24. A woman with options
24
A WOMAN WITH OPTIONS
Netta was managing a stall at a private market today. They didn’t usually do these little markets anymore. Now that they had enough regular orders, they didn’t need to. But this was a special favour to their longest and most loyal customer who was trying out a new venture, a Saturday morning market at the back of his café and deli in Moseley. It was a showcase of the producers that supplied his small empire of delis around the Midlands. They weren’t expecting much from it, so she and Neil had agreed to split the day between them. She was doing the first shift. Neil was pencilled in to take over later. She wasn’t entirely on her own though. Will had offered to keep her company, although he’d spent most of the time on his phone. ‘It’s quieter than I thought it would be,’ he said, while still scrolling.
‘It’s new, and it’s still early. People will probably start drifting in soon. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to though.’
‘No, I want to stay. Just saying, that’s all.’
‘At least it gives us a chance for a chat. We haven’t had much time for that since you got back. I’ve been meaning to ask how you feel about Doogie being here.’
Will put his phone away. ‘Dunno, I haven’t really thought about it. Fine, I guess. I like him. Does that count?’
‘Yes it does.’
‘I like Frank too, by the way. He’s great.’
‘Okay. That’s good to know.’
‘Yeah, I mean, he really is great. I wouldn’t mind if you two decided to move in together or get married or anything. Just so you know. I mean, that’s entirely your decision. Obviously. And if you decided you preferred Doogie, that’s absolutely fine too.’
‘Well, it’s nice to know I have your blessing should I decide to opt for either of them as my live in lover or husband, but I feel duty bound to tell you that I’m quite happy with my current situation.’ Not exactly true, she had been happy with her current situation until her current situation changed and unleashed all sorts of mayhem. ‘Do you want to serve this lady?’
‘Sure,’ said Will, looking ever so slightly sheepish.
Thankfully, a flurry of newly arrived customers put paid to any further discussion of options with regard to Netta’s love life. She didn’t normally subscribe to conspiracy theories, but she was beginning to think that the younger generation of her family and Frank’s, were definitely conspiring to get them hitched. But if there had been any possibility of that before all this madness, and she wasn’t sure there had been, then there wasn’t now. Although it would appear that Doogie wasn’t entirely off the cards as an alternative. From Will’s point of view anyway.
The flurry soon died down and by the looks of Will, he was building himself up to another revolutionary suggestion on the marriage front. In classic Will style he looked at his feet, then up and out into the distance. Here we go. She readied herself. But her preparations were unnecessary. His expression changed to a frown. ‘Arianne’s over there.’
Netta looked across the room and there was Arianne in an unusually pink and frothy ensemble. This was a new look for her. Usually, she wore spray on jeans and a tight T-shirt. Quite often, it was a Clash T-shirt, just like one Netta had worn back in her student days which, to Netta’s mind, was always a bit suspicious. Not today though. Today she looked like an ageing ballerina who’d let herself go rather badly. Arianne hadn’t noticed them. She was too pre-occupied making doe-eyes at the man whose hand she was holding. He was a big man. Big and round with a big, round, bald head and a shaggy beard. But, give the woman her due, he was at least fifteen years younger than her.
They were almost on top of the stall before she noticed Netta and Will, and unfortunately for Arianne, her new man was showing an interest in Neil’s speciality Caribbean pickle. She grabbed his T-shirt and tried to pull him away. ‘Leave it, Byron.’
But it seemed Byron had a mind of his own. Far from leaving it, he picked up a jar to read the ingredients.
‘It’s an old recipe from my partner’s husband’s family.’ Netta put a spoonful on some crackers. ‘Would you like to try it?’
‘I would,’ said Byron with an enthusiastic nod. Clearly his taste in pickle was better than his taste in women.
She held out the plate of crackers for him. ‘And how are things with you, Arianne? Still living illegally in my ex-husband’s house?’
Byron almost spat out his cracker. ‘Oh. You’re?—’
‘Yes, that’s me. The woman who’s having to put her ex-husband up because your lady friend seems to think it’s okay to steal his property.’
Other than swallowing the remains of his cracker loudly, Byron seemed lost for words. Sadly, Arianne wasn’t: ‘I’ve put a lot of love into that house. That’s worth a lot.’
Will stood up to his full height. ‘Not in the eyes of the law.’
‘Who the fuck are you?’ Byron had found his voice.
‘I’m Will Grey. Colin’s son. I’m also a lawyer.’
Arianne grabbed Byron’s arm. ‘What about the abuse I’ve had to put up with? You can’t put a price on that either, I suppose.’
‘What kind of abuse are you alleging has been meted out to you?’ said Will.
‘Domestic.’
‘Can you be more specific?’
‘Not at this moment. Tell Colin, he’ll be hearing from my solicitor.’
Netta let out a heavy sigh. ‘So you keep saying.’
‘Well this time I mean it. And tell him I don’t appreciate him threatening me on my own doorstep either, and nor does Byron.’
‘Don’t you mean his own doorstep?’ said Netta.
‘No, I do not. Leave the chutney, Byron. We’re going.’
They watched Arianne storm off, dragging Byron behind her. Netta rubbed Will’s arm. ‘You put the wind up them with that legal speak. Well done you.’
‘It was all bluff. I mean, I’m not actually a lawyer. Just someone who’s studied law.’
‘I think you got away with it. It was very good of you to stand up for your dad like that.’
‘I don’t like to see people taken advantage of. I don’t buy that domestic abuse line either. I guess you do though?’
‘I don’t know. I want to think he’s changed but, you know.’
‘I get it, and I understand why you think it’s a possibility. But from what I saw when I was living there, I’d say it’s more likely to be the other way round. And I’ve seen Dad a couple of times this week from a distance. He looks terrible. Can you imagine him threatening Arianne and that guy?’
Of course, it had been a good while since Will had spent any time with Colin and Arianne so he could be mistaken, but Netta remembered Liza had said pretty much the same thing. Perhaps there was something in it. ‘Not really. But something has just occurred to me. I wonder if he went there on Tuesday night. That’s when he got his black eye, according to Grandad’s friend, Ursula.’
‘You think Byron might have hit him? Do you believe in karma?’
‘No. Do you?’
‘Nah. Although, I guess some people might think Dad deserves it.’
A few names immediately sprung to mind. Not hers though. ‘No one deserves to be treated like that. Not even your dad.’
When Neil came to take over, Will went into town to meet Belle and do some shopping for their impending holiday. Netta took a slightly circuitous route home via Colin’s road and a brief stop outside his house. It had been just over two weeks since she’d been here last, and she was curious to see if anything had changed. The only obvious difference were some purple voile curtains covering the lounge windows. Colin would be horrified if he saw them. Perhaps he already had.
Frank pulled up in his car just as she arrived home. They hadn’t spoken since Thursday evening. Not even a message had crossed between them. That wasn’t normal.
He took some tins of paint from the boot of his car. She took a food shop out of hers. They met in the middle of both cars.
‘You’re decorating again,’ she said, unable to think of anything better.
‘Yep. The small bedroom this time. Working my way up to the bigger rooms.’
‘Good plan.’ She wanted to invite him in for coffee or even to invite herself over to his but for once in the entire time she’d known him, there was a barrier that she didn’t know how to cross. It might have helped if she knew what the barrier was or why it was there, but she could only speculate on both of those things because the barrier wasn’t hers. It was his.
‘I’d better get these in.’ He smiled but it wasn’t Frank’s smile. Someone had snatched her Frank away and left this silly, proud idiot in his place.
‘Are you coming over to dinner tonight?’
‘I thought I’d stay in with Colin. Got to do my bit to help with his recovery.’
‘Right. Okay. See you tomorrow morning then.’
‘Sure.’
She let herself into her empty house and put her shopping away. Then she poured a glass of chilled wine, put her feet up in the garden with her phone and started a ranting message trail with her old friend Claire. She would have called her, but she didn’t want to be overheard by whoever was in Frank’s house.
Her message rant concluded, and her wine finished, she fetched herself another glass and put her feet back up. If Frank wanted to be an arse, let him be one. She had better things to do than worry about him. She was a woman with options. All kinds of options. According to Will anyway.