38. A fool and his choices
38
A FOOL AND HIS CHOICES
Doogie parked the car some distance from his destination and walked the rest of the way. He was still smiling at Netta’s reaction to that air fryer. He knew it was a mistake to buy it but the kids had ganged up on him as soon as he mentioned he’d like to get her something. It was so funny to see her pretending to like it. When they were together, she’d have told him straight out it was a shit present. But she was different now. More considered. Staying in her house with her family had opened his eyes to a different side of her that he was still getting used to. She’d gone over to Frank’s for the night now that they were back on speaking terms. They’d wanted to spend some time on their own, but they were also waiting for Colin the Wanker to come back. Doogie hadn’t fancied staying in with the kids. There was only so much bollocks TV you could take. Besides, he had a need to be alone for a while. All that people interaction was doing his head in.
The bars and cafés in Moseley were loud and busy. You’d have thought a Wednesday night would have been quieter. And there were so many cars. Before he moved to Scotland, he loved loud, buzzy places like this. But there was no space here. It was all so claustrophobic, and he was beginning to go stir crazy. Why else would he be doing mad things like running errands and gardening for a crabby old girl who reminded him of Monique, his dad’s nasty bitch of a wife? And why else would he be tramping the streets looking for Colin the Wanker?
He cut across the road while there was a lull in the traffic and followed the same route he’d taken that morning. Liza had given him the address. It was something they’d cooked up between them, seeing as Colin’s ex didn’t know him. He’d watched the house, just to see what she was up to, if she had any patterns, went out at certain times. That sort of thing. This morning, he’d seen a big guy, who was carrying too much weight to be a threat, leaving and coming back a couple of hours later. He'd made a note of the times. The woman hadn’t shown her face, but he saw her moving about inside. He’d do the same thing tomorrow before he went to see Priscilla Sweeting. She had more jobs for him.
He was here on a hunch tonight. Frank had said Colin the Wanker had been out late for the last few nights. To Doogie’s mind there weren’t many places he’d be likely to go to. He’d already tried the allotment, and Liza said he wasn’t all that into pubs. So now that it was dark, Doogie was guessing there was only one place he’d be.
He kept to the opposite side of the road to the house, his eyes searching leafy bushes and the kind of dark places a man could hide in. He’d done it himself once, after Netta had ended their affair. He hated that word, affair. It sounded seedy. Dirty. Netta had lived with Colin in a different house then, but Doogie had hidden away in one of those dark places watching her. He’d been fully intent on knocking the door and begging her to come away with him, but something had stopped him. So instead he’d stayed there watching and wanting. It had been seeing her kids, Liza and Will. He couldn’t take her away from them. He knew what it was like to have a distant parent, and Colin the Wanker had looked like he was a good dad. Better than he could ever be anyway. So he’d decided Netta was better off without him and walked away. If only he’d gone through with it. If only he’d had the courage to be a different man. Because even from across the road and through glass, he’d seen that Netta was hurting. And he’d known that Colin was just another version of Monique, so it was obvious he’d want to hurt her some more.
He thought about what Geraldine had said to him a couple of weeks ago, about how he felt he’d let Netta down. If she’d said he was ashamed of himself for being a coward and walking away without fighting for her, that would have been closer to the truth. He had no way of knowing if he’d have convinced Net to go with him, or if she had, that things would have worked out, but at least he’d have tried. If nothing else, he’d have saved her from Colin. And it was fine for Geraldine to say there was no need for him to protect her but try telling that to his conscience. Try telling it to his gut instinct. And try telling it to his heart.
A figure stumbled out from a gap between two houses. He remembered from this morning that it had been a gully of some sort. Sure enough it was Colin the Wanker, and he was doing his flies up. He was obviously pissed because he fell over a bin. If he carried on like that, he was going to either get himself arrested or beaten up again. Doogie considered rescuing him and taking him home. But then he remembered the way Netta had looked when she came back down from the bathroom earlier on. The wanker had called her, and she’d been crying. Fuck it. The guy was a bastard. Whatever happened, he had it coming to him. He went to find a park where he could lie down, look at the stars and imagine he was in Scotland where he belonged.
He was up and out before anyone else came down. Netta’s car was outside, so he assumed she was still next door. Doogie couldn’t decide how he felt about Frank. He seemed like an all-right kind of guy, but all that sulking shit was pretty childish. If you had a problem, you should either say it or let it go. That’s how it worked with him and Netta. Him and Claire as well. Actually, that was how it worked with him and Grace. Had worked. Until he’d fucked things up. Yeah, right. And there was him calling Frank childish.
But it wasn’t the sulking that was his main problem with Frank. It was the thing he’d said about Grace. In Doogie’s opinion it was low and below the belt. The kind of thing he’d expect from Colin the Wanker, not the man Netta chose to be with. Either her judgement was way off, or Frank’s decency had been skewed by recent events. Both of those scenarios were possible.
It niggled him though, because it was true that Grace bore a passing resemblance to Netta, which was exactly why he’d resisted getting involved with her at first. She’d been the one to make the first move. And the second, and the third. In fact, she’d made all the moves. Doogie had been like a nervous animal, scared of human attachment. Initially, it had just been about the sexual release for both of them. He didn’t ask but he guessed she’d exhausted all the other available options, there weren’t many in that small and remote community. In the warmer months when the tourists came, she’d sometimes hook up with a passer-through. But she kept coming back to him. He rarely slept with anyone other than her. Not because he had particularly strong feelings for her but because he didn’t want the contact.
As they got to know each other better he found that aside from the slight similarity in looks, Grace was nothing at all like Netta. She was straightforward, blunt to the point of rudeness sometimes. You only had to be with her for a while to get how connected she was to the land and her roots. It was impossible to pull them apart. Doogie liked that about her. But the thing he liked most about Grace was that she didn’t understand him at all, and she made no effort to change that. She didn’t care what made him tick. For her, it was all about his actions. The whys behind them weren’t important. It was a refreshing change, and he came to love the way it made him feel like a new and different person with nothing to hide.
Two summers ago she announced that she was his alone. He said it was the same for him. He didn’t one hundred percent mean it, but she wouldn’t have known that because she couldn’t see into his soul. Unlike Netta who could do it with one look.
It was raining this morning, so he parked the car near enough to the house to be able to see it from inside without being noticed. Colin the Wanker wasn’t there anymore, so he’d either gone back to Frank’s or he was sleeping it off in a cell or a hospital bed. Doogie didn’t care which.
After a while, the guy came out of the house and followed the same route he’d taken yesterday. An hour later, a woman with big blonde hair and big everything else came out and walked past the car. Doogie smiled to himself. There was no way anyone was going to accuse Colin of having a partner who reminded them of Netta.
The woman came back not long after with a bag of shopping, and the guy returned at about the same time as yesterday. So a pattern was beginning to emerge. Doogie stayed until around midday. Priscilla was expecting him in half an hour, and he didn’t want to keep her waiting.
The old woman opened the door. ‘You’re late.’
‘Only five minutes. The traffic was bad,’ said Doogie.
‘That don’t make you any less late.’
‘You got somewhere to be?’
She scowled at him for a minute then her face wrinkled into a smile. ‘Cheeky monkey.’
Mary used to call him that when he was a kid. He felt a snag from somewhere deep inside, a feeling that was long buried. He’d loved that old lady as much as he loved his mum. Possibly more so when he was little, seeing as she was the one who let him get away with anything and kept him topped up with fig rolls. He still liked a fig roll to this day.
‘I suppose you’ve been wasting your time at that allotment again.’ Priscilla had her arms folded and one eyebrow arched. Doogie half-expected her to slip into a rant, until he realised, she was teasing him.
‘Not today. We’ve finished the project now. Samuel’s patch is cleared and the shed’s tidied up, ready for someone else to take it on.’
‘I tek it you’ve removed all trace of him.’
‘Nah. Ursula said the shed’s exactly as it was when he was there.’
He saw a flash of hesitation in her eyes when he said Ursula’s name. He shouldn’t have mentioned her, but it was too late to take it back. Priscilla’s jaw was already set. Her playful teasing eyes had narrowed. ‘Well she would know.’
‘I can take you there if you like. So you can see it before someone else takes over.’
‘What makes you think me want to waste me precious time going there?’
‘I dunno. Closure I suppose.’
‘You believe in all that claptrap?’ Priscilla looked him up and down like he’d just walked something disgusting into the house and once again he was reminded of Monique. Although in Monique’s eyes, he would have been the thing that was disgusting.
‘Not really, but?—’
‘Well don’t say it then, fool. You want a sandwich?’
‘Go on then. I’m starving.’
‘Wait in the living room. I’ll bring it in.’
Doogie noticed Samuel’s letter was still on the mantelpiece. The sound of clattering crockery told him it was safe to go in for a closer look, so he checked to see if it had been opened. It hadn’t. No great surprise there.
The crockery fell silent, and the kettle had finished boiling. He moved some of the cushions away from his place on the sofa, sat down, and pulled out his phone as if he’d been occupying himself with it the whole time. There was a message waiting for him from Merrie:
Hey D, I’m on my way to Birmingham. Probably see you tomorrow, if you’re around.
He never knew whether the D stood for Doogie or Dad. Doogie, probably. It was unlikely she thought of him as her actual dad. That honour would have gone to Claire’s husband, Dom. He was okay with that. It was just his mum he felt bad for. Another act of cowardice on his part had left her without the official title she would have loved.
Priscilla brought in a tray of sandwiches and tea. She glanced at the letter before giving him the once over. ‘You look happy. Got some good news?’
‘My daughter. She’s coming to see me.’
‘You got kids?’ She seemed surprised.
‘Just the one.’
‘She don’t live with you?’
‘Nah. I kept away until a few years ago.’
‘What you do that for?’
‘I thought she’d be better off without me.’
‘What kind of damn fool thing is that to say? Are you completely stupid?’
‘Yeah, I think I must be.’ Trust Priscilla to say it like it was.
‘You know what I think, Dougal? I think you’ve made some very bad choices.’
Doogie grinned. She was so right. Pity it took till now to have it pointed out to him. ‘Oh Priscilla, I really wish I’d met you twenty years ago.’
‘I would have scared the life out of you.’
‘I know.’
She eyed him over her teacup for what seemed like longer than it probably was. ‘Fetch it over here.’
‘Fetch what?’
‘The letter. You think I don’t know you check it every time you come in here? If you want to see it so bad, go and get it.’
Doogie sighed and fetched the letter. He held it out for her. Priscilla stared at it like it was a thing from outer space. ‘Read it.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes, you. Read it.’
He opened the envelope. Inside was a single sheet of paper. It looked like it had been torn out of an exercise book and someone had tried to tidy the rough edge with scissors but had made a bad job of it. He cleared his throat:
My dear Priscilla,
I should have been a better husband and father. I tried, but I gave up too quick.
I’m sorry.
Samuel x
Priscilla still had the teacup in her hand. ‘That’s it? Not one single mention of love or forgiveness?’
Doogie turned the letter around for her to see. ‘He’s put a kiss on there.’
‘Sixty years of marriage and that’s all I get? One kiss and I coulda been better.’
‘I think by saying sorry he’s implying he’s asking for forgiveness.’
She put the cup down. ‘Oh you do, do you? And what would you know?’