9. A reputation shot to pieces
9
A REPUTATION SHOT TO PIECES
‘I don’t like it any more than you do, Colin, but we don’t have a choice.’ Arthur pulled up in the allotment car park which turned out to be not too far from Netta’s house.
Colin was still not convinced that his choices were that limited. ‘We could just say I came with you. I could make myself scarce for the day.’
‘I don’t tell lies. Especially to my wife. That would be disrespectful. And anyway, she’d see right through me. And through you too for that matter. She’s no fool. You’d do well to remember that.’
‘Why, what’s she going to do to me?’ If Arthur thought he was frightened of a little old woman like Geraldine, he was very wrong. The only reason he was here was because he wanted Liza to think he was doing something positive.
‘Hopefully we’ll never find out.’ Arthur got out of the car and let his dog out of the back.
Colin remained in his seat. This was all very stupid. He was a grown man who could make his own decisions. And he was definitely not scared of Geraldine Wilde.
Arthur opened the passenger door. ‘Stop acting like a pranny and just accept we’re stuck with each other. Come on, I’ll show you around.’
Colin huffed the loudest possible huff, just to let the ex-father-in-law know that he was not happy, either about being here, or about being called a pranny. His huff had no impact whatsoever on Arthur who remained in the same spot, his arm resting on top of the door. For fear that his resistance was now beginning to make him look like an actual pranny, Colin exited the car and followed Arthur along a path that circled all around the site.
As they walked along, Arthur pointed out the highlights. There weren’t many. The place wasn’t exactly bustling which was lucky because the old sod insisted on stopping to talk to every person they passed, each conversation as tedious as the next. After what seemed like an interminable time, they stopped at an allotment that was full of green stuff. Vegetables presumably. ‘This is my pride and joy. We hardly ever buy veg in the shops now.’
His pride and joy? What a small world Arthur lived in. If he’d painted something good, or even made something with his hands, Colin could understand the pride. But this? This was just a few rows of stuff you could pick up for a couple of quid in the supermarket. Where was the pride and joy in that? Arthur was looking at him, obviously waiting for him to say something. Colin felt obliged to respond but didn’t want to encourage the old man too much. You never knew where that could lead to. ‘Very nice. What do you want me to do?’
‘Nothing here. We’re only stopping off to pick up some tools. There’s another patch we’re helping to tidy up. You’re all right with some digging, are you? Won’t be too much for your delicate hands?’
‘I’m an artist, Arthur, not a pianist. I can manage a bit of digging.’
‘That’s all right then. Only I heard you employed a gardener these days.’
Colin didn’t like the way the old git made it sound like he was in some way less of a man, just because he didn’t do his own gardening. ‘I have more important things to do with my time. I’ve got a living to earn.’
‘I see. I suppose it’s a lot harder for you since Netta put an end to your sponging.’
‘I wasn’t sponging.’
‘Well I was going to say embezzling, but I was trying to be polite.’
‘I wasn’t embezzling either. I was just…’ No, the words wouldn’t come. Anyway, what was the point? ‘Shall we just get on?’
Armed with an assortment of gardening tools, they went back on the main path towards the far end of the site. A narrower track veered off to the left, just before the path began to curve round. They followed it through an overgrown thicket with just enough space for them to get through without being scratched.
‘That needs cutting right back,’ said Arthur. ‘I don’t believe anyone’s bothered with it in years.’
When they squeezed through the bush, it quickly became obvious there was more needed doing than a bit of digging, but it was impossible to tell exactly how much because the entire area was overgrown and thick with weeds and bushes.
‘This way.’ Arthur went ahead along another makeshift trail that had been beaten out of the mass of tall greenery surrounding them.
It wasn’t too long before the dense forest of weeds came to a sudden end and Colin was able to see a small piece of land that had been chopped down to stubble. ‘Wouldn’t it have been better to start from the hedge?’
‘Probably, but the others wanted to begin with that one. It has sentimental value. It used to belong to a chap they were friends with. He died a few years back, I think. When he went, the council decided they were going to turn this part into a car park for the leisure centre on the other side. That’s why it’s been left. The council changed their mind, and we got the allotments back, but they need an overhaul before they can be offered out.’ Arthur gestured to a rickety shed in front of an eight-foot wall. ‘It’s a good sun trap. Nice and quiet too. Right. You start digging out the cleared patch. Take out anything that’s not dirt and stick it in that wheelbarrow. When the barrow’s full, take it to the composting area.’
Many years ago, when Colin was at school, his history teacher had been inordinately fond of the Victorians. There was nothing about that era he didn’t relish lecturing them on endlessly. But there was one particular aspect of Victorian society that he delighted in more than any: the penal system. It occurred to Colin that this allotment would have had the Victorians, with their fondness for pointless hard labour, rubbing their thighs with glee. It also occurred to him that he was being punished for the way things had turned out with him and Netta, and that when Arthur relayed the story of their day to Geraldine later, the two of them would also be rubbing their thighs with glee.
‘Can you manage that?’ Arthur’s face was straight, but Colin was in no doubt that in his head, he was turning cartwheels of joy.
‘Yes. What will you be doing?’
Arthur pointed in the direction of the jungle of overgrowth. ‘I’m going to start on that. Minnie, lie down and stay. I don’t want to be slicing your head off.’
The dog lay down in front of the shed with her head on her paws. She was a big thing, although not as big as the other three of Maud’s puppies. Aside from colouring and a wiry coat, none of them looked like little Maud. The father must have been a size.
Colin began digging, determined to prove to Arthur that he would not be broken. One hour in and his resolve was beginning to fade. He’d spent most of that time removing weeds and the odd root vegetable. The wheelbarrow was full but there was very little earth that was weed free. All the same, it was a good enough excuse to give his sore hands a rest.
The dog, Minnie, got up and followed him, giving Arthur a mournful look as they reached him. He stopped scything and wiped his brow. ‘Okay, you can go, but don’t wander off. Keep an eye on her, Colin.’
So his enforced labour had been extended to babysitting dogs now? Colin tutted and set off with Minnie at his side. With some effort he shoved the wheelbarrow through the gap in the thicket and kept it upright enough not to lose its contents. A year or two ago, when he’d had a bit more about him, this kind of thing wouldn’t have been quite so hard. Bloody Arianne. This was all her fault.
Halfway along the main path, he realised he didn’t know where the composting area was. Arthur must have pointed it out to him on the highlights tour, but he hadn’t been listening. He stopped and looked around. Where the hell was it?
‘You lost?’ An elderly man appeared from behind a row of tall, leafy canes. He wore overalls and a straw trilby.
‘I’m looking for the composting area.’
‘It’s over there.’ He nodded at Minnie. ‘She not with you then?’ His accent sounded Caribbean.
‘Sort of. I’m helping her owner out.’
‘Okay. I thought you’d come to see your daddy.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
The man ignored him. ‘Colonel, your girl’s here. Colonel.’ A big hairy black and grey monster of a dog came out from behind a shed and ambled towards Minnie. ‘That’s her daddy, yer know. Where’s Arthur?’
‘Other side of that hedge.’
‘He started without me? I’ll get my tools.’
‘Over there you said?’ Colin pointed in the direction the man had vaguely indicated but he didn’t get an answer. The man was already disappearing into his shed. Colin walked on, then remembered Minnie. He turned back in time to see her forcing a new hole through the thicket, aided and abetted by the monster dog. Well, it was one way of getting it down, he supposed.
When he returned, he found the man and Arthur standing over the patch he’d dug so far. He heard Arthur say: ‘He’s not much of a gardener.’
The man pushed back his trilby and scanned Colin. ‘I can see that. Clyde Wilson.’
‘Colin Grey,’ he said, rising above the insult.
‘Colin is Netta’s ex-husband,’ said Arthur.
Clyde Wilson looked Colin up and down extremely slowly and whistled through his teeth. It would seem his reputation had gone before him and had already been shot to pieces.