34. There were always two sides to a story
34
THERE WERE ALWAYS TWO SIDES TO A STORY
Shits, the pair of them. Thick as bloody thieves. Foolishly, Colin had thought he and Frank were getting along just fine. Saturday night, when they’d got drunk together, had felt like a turning point. Not that he could remember everything that was said, owing to the huge amount of alcohol he’d drunk, but he was fairly sure they’d reached an understanding. And while living with your ex-wife’s new partner, being banned from seeing your oldest child, and having to put up with snide remarks from your ex-parents-in-law wasn’t ideal, Colin was actually beginning to enjoy the camaraderie of sharing with another guy. It was almost like being back at uni. Although the guys he shared with then weren’t really the kind of people he’d wanted to spend time with. Needless to say, he’d dropped them as soon as he left Manchester. But Frank was different. He actually liked Frank. Frank would have been the kind of housemate Colin would have given good money to share with at uni. Trust Chambers to take it all away from him. Again.
He was heading for the allotments. He should be shopping to replace all the things he’d used up really but fuck that. Frank could do his own shopping. He could take his new best mate with him. Bastards.
A retired couple who had an allotment near Ursula’s let him in. He couldn’t for the life of him remember their names, but they knew his. He wondered what else they knew about him. Had Arthur and Clyde spread the word that he was a nasty piece of work? Hah! If they wanted to see a nasty piece of work, look no further than Doogie Chambers. There was absolutely no way that man hadn’t committed GBH on some poor unfortunate sod at least once in his life. No way. Colin had never actually seen Chambers lay a finger on anyone but there’d been rumours at uni. Which was why he’d kept well clear of him. The only time he and Chambers had ever spoken was the same night that Colin spoke to Netta for the first time. Chambers had been at that party too, looking for her. He’d said one thing to Colin: ‘Don’t even try, mate. You couldn’t handle her.’ Well, look who proved you wrong, Chambers. Look who got to live the dream. For a while, anyway.
It was the worst day of his life when he found out about their affair, even though he’d already guessed she was being unfaithful to him. Like he’d said to Frank, you can spot these things. When they told him at the hospital she’d lost the baby, he actually felt gutted for her. Not that she was the most maternal woman you could hope to meet. She’d only had Liza and Will because he’d nagged her to death. He’d wanted children. He’d really, really wanted children. So when he found out about the miscarriage, he felt bad for her, and he’d been convinced he’d have taken that child on and raised it as his own. Because he loved her. He loved her so much the weight of it nearly crushed him sometimes. He’d have forgiven her. He’d have done anything to have her love him. But then she told him who the father was, and everything changed. The love was gone, at least he thought so at the time. In its place was anger. More anger than he could deal with. It was like he’d fallen into a black hole of vengeance.
Colin passed Ursula’s allotment, went through the gap in the hedge and sat down in front of Samuel Sweeting’s shed. If it had been anyone else but Chambers, they might have stood a chance. But it wasn’t and sometimes even now, Colin felt that weight coming back to crush him. Arianne picked up on it soon enough, which is why she sometimes lashed out. Perfectly understandable. Hadn’t he done the same when he’d been hurt? Except he’d taken a more subtle approach.
He saw a flash of electric blue. Ursula. She was wearing that dress again. ‘I thought it was you. I wasn’t expecting anyone here today.’
‘I just needed to get out of the house.’
‘Do you want to borrow a spade?’
He surveyed the remaining patch of tangled weed. One more day and it would all be clear. He’d have no excuse to come back. What would he do then? ‘No. I’ll leave it for today. I’ll just sit here for a while, if you don’t mind.’
‘No problem. I was about to go home. I have some jobs that need doing.’
‘Anything I can help with?’ He didn’t know why he’d said that. All he really wanted to do was sit here on his own and be still.
She let her head drop to one side and frowned slightly. ‘I have to take some things to the tip. I suppose I could use an extra hand.’
Ursula’s house was like a big white square box with large, black-framed windows and a flat roof. Although he didn’t know a lot about architecture, Colin knew of a style that was similar to this. It was called Bauhaus. It was the kind of house he’d dreamed of living in before everything had gone pear-shaped. It was not the kind of house he’d expected to find Ursula in. He’d imagined her living in a little terraced villa or a cottage, possibly with roses around the door.
She seemed to read his thoughts. ‘It was built by my late husband.’
‘He was a builder?’
‘An architect.’
The interior took his breath away. The downstairs was a wide expansive room that was partially divided by screens. A wall of glass overlooked a large garden. The space inside seemed vast and every bit of it was filled with light. Plain white walls were accentuated by modern artwork that looked like genuine originals. Every piece of furniture was in the classic modernist style. Expensive, stylish, but not necessarily comfortable.
‘I like your house,’ he said.
‘All my husband’s design. I can’t take any credit for it. He died six years ago. It’s still as he left it.’
Colin looked out onto the garden. It was immaculate. ‘How do you manage to keep it so tidy?’
‘I have a gardener. I’ve no interest in it. It’s just window dressing to me. I prefer my allotment.’
‘So gardening was your husband’s thing?’
She gazed out of the window. ‘No. Order was his thing. Order and control. Everything in its place. If you look closely, you’ll see each tree and plant in the garden has been placed where it is for visual effect. It’s not really a garden. It’s a beautifully landscaped prison.’
‘You don’t like it?’
‘I can’t stand the garden or the house. That’s why I’m selling up.’
‘You’re moving?’
‘The board’s going up tomorrow. Which is why I need to go to the tip. I’ve been clearing out a lot of baggage.’
Ursula showed him to the garage which was set apart from the house. Inside was an old Volvo estate and a lot of boxes and bags. ‘Everything on the left is to go to the tip. Everything on the right is for the charity shop.’
They did the tip first and then cleared out the charity shop donations in a couple of trips. Ursula parked the Volvo back up in the garage and locked it up. Normally she drove a newer car, one of those little Fiats, but Colin thought the Volvo suited her better. ‘Nice old car,’ he said.
‘It was my husband’s pride and joy. He’d spend hours polishing it and tinkering with it, refusing to let it give in to age. A car should be allowed some scruffiness as it gets older, don’t you think? I’ve helped it along a bit since he went. I like to think of it as small acts of defiance. Are you hungry?’
‘Er, yes, I suppose so.’ He was still trying to work Ursula out and the sudden change of subject caught him off guard.
‘How about lunch? There’s a nice Italian restaurant nearby.’
‘That sounds great.’ For a few seconds, Colin entertained the idea that she might be suggesting something other than a friendly lunch, but that was as long as it took to dismiss it as fanciful. In his heart, he knew a woman like her wouldn’t be interested in an ugly, skinny arse no-hoper like him. He was quoting Arianne there. It was one of her favourite quips if ever he was stupid enough to mention Netta. Still, he was glad he’d spent so long in the shower that morning. It was important to be presentable. It was important to be positive too, which was exactly what he’d said to himself last night as he lurked in the shadows watching Arianne and Wordsworth, or Byron, or whatever the fuck his name was, smooching up on his sofa, in his lounge, in his house. Bastards. The world was full of them.
They went for the fixed-price menu, both opting for spaghetti bolognese for their main course. It was perfectly adequate. In times gone by, Colin would have been a bit disappointed by it but these days, even adequate was enough to set his taste buds off like fireworks.
The bottle of Sauvignon Blanc they shared wasn’t bad for the price and they both agreed, it was definitely a step up from the last bottle they’d shared. Ursula was good company but then, he already knew that. It seemed she could talk about anything, but she could also listen. She asked about Colin’s art. He replied, falteringly at first, then gradually opening up. For the first time in months, he felt connected to it. Not enough to want to paint again, but at least enough for him to feel some nostalgia for it.
It was hard to recall when he’d last spent time over a bottle of wine and a meal, just talking to somebody who didn’t abhor him. And it had been such a long time since he’d actually enjoyed the company of others. Such a long time since he’d wanted to know more about a person. ‘Do you mind if I ask about your marriage?’ he said.
‘That depends on what you’re about to ask,’ she replied.
‘Forgive me if I’m prying, but was it happy?’
She sighed. ‘It was neither happy nor unhappy. It was just empty. I take it your marriage to Arthur’s daughter was unhappy?’
‘Ah well, that’s a long story. Suffice to say, one of us was ecstatically happy until they found out the other was very much not.’
Ursula both frowned and smiled at him. ‘That’s very cryptic.’
‘Sorry. I suppose I’m still bitter about it. But Arianne was there when I needed someone. She looked after me.’ Up to a point, but Ursula didn’t need to hear about that. No one did.
‘I had my allotment friends. They filled the emptiness.’
‘Especially Samuel? Sorry I didn’t mean to imply anything was going on between you.’
She laughed. ‘I know. Shall we go? I have a few more jobs to do at home.’
They crossed the road, towards Ursula’s house. Once over, she turned to him. ‘Thank you for today. I’d forgotten how nice it was to have company.’
‘Me too. I’ve enjoyed it. I can come and help some more, if you want.’
She shook her head. ‘These are personal jobs I need to take care of.’
He smiled to mask his disappointment. ‘I understand.’
‘What I said about my marriage. It wasn’t the only thing that was empty. So was I. Perhaps if I hadn’t been, I would have realised how unhappy I was. But it’s hard to feel anything when you’ve been completely broken. You see my husband’s need for control wasn’t just over the garden, or the house, or the car. It was over everything, including me. He had ways of shaping people. Such ways. I think you know a bit about that too.’
‘What do you mean?’ So he’d been right. Arthur had been telling her about him and as usual, it would only be one side of the story.
‘I thought… Arianne.’
‘Oh Arianne. She has her moments but not that. No.’
Her eyes narrowed a little, but her face soon softened. ‘Then it’s my turn to apologise. I was mistaken. See you tomorrow?’
‘For sure, yes.’
He waited at the bus stop and kept his eyes on her as she walked down the busy street. To his surprise, Arthur’s words popped up into his head, the ones about how he’d broken Netta. It was true, he had wanted to crush her but he’d never wanted her dead. He’d just wanted her to see him.
Ursula finally disappeared into the distance. Such a lovely lady. He wondered how she’d managed to saddle herself with a husband like that. Although, there were always two sides to a story, weren’t there? And then it occurred to him that there was only one side that mattered. It just depended whose side you were on when it came to which one that was.