12. Weren’t there always conditions?
12
WEREN’T THERE ALWAYS CONDITIONS?
Colin stopped digging and stretched his back. It was aching but the strange thing was, he didn’t care, because he’d just realised something. He hadn’t given any real thought to Arianne since he’d left Netta’s that morning. She’d popped up in his mind every now and then, but he’d been too busy breaking soil and banishing weeds to stop and think about her. He hated to admit it but the Victorians might have been on to something with their hard labour theories. He hadn’t enjoyed a single minute of it. That went without saying. But, and it was a tiny but, there was something very, very slightly satisfying about tidying up a plot of land. Obviously, it was nowhere near on a par with painting. At least it wouldn’t have been, once upon a time.
He reminded himself again to get in touch with the clients who were waiting for him to finish their commissions. Maybe if he asked Arianne nicely, she’d let him have the ones he’d already started, along with his brushes and paints. Now that she’d blocked him, he’d have to go to the house. He could do that. He could face her. Absolutely he could. But why put himself through all that torture when he already knew what the answer would be? She was punishing him, and she couldn’t do that by giving him the only thing he poured his heart and soul into. Not quite the only thing he loved, but definitely the only thing he loved doing. Once, anyway. He’d lost it. He couldn’t say when exactly. One thing was certain though. It had already started long before Arianne had tricked him out of his home. So even if he did pluck up the courage to ask her and in a rare moment of common decency she said yes, he doubted very much if he’d actually be able to lay paint down on the canvas.
‘Brew’s up.’ Arthur called him over and handed him a cup of tea. He’d brought a camping stove and kettle down from his allotment shed along with some fold up chairs when they’d stopped for lunch. Geraldine seemed to have made enough sandwiches for everyone on the allotments. Clearly, she knew Clyde would be helping to eat them. Although it had to be said, it had been so long since Colin had eaten proper food, he’d made quite a pig of himself. In fact, since he’d moved in with Netta, his stomach had come out of hibernation and become something of a bottomless barrel.
He took a sip of tea and winced. It was so full-bodied you could stand a spoon up in it.
Clyde laughed. ‘Arthur does like his tea strong. I’m more of an Earl Grey man myself. I like it delicate. I would say just like my women but there was nothing delicate about my wife, except her heart.’
‘Clyde’s wife died of a heart attack,’ said Arthur.
‘Yes, I got that Arthur, thank you.’ For Christ’s sake, there was no need to spell it out. Did the man think he was an idiot?
Arthur snapped open a plastic container. ‘Geraldine’s made us some cake. Fruit.’
Clyde rubbed his hands together. ‘You’re a lucky man, Arthur. Married to a beautiful woman who can cook like an angel. Isn’t that right, Colin?’
Colin forced a smile, aware that it would look as forced as it truly was. He had never thought of Geraldine as anything other than an awkward old bitch and he was loathe to change that opinion. Although he had to admit, she did make good cakes.
‘Here’s Ursula.’ Clyde waved to a tall, slender woman with long grey hair and a golden tan who was picking through the roughly hewn path. In a loose bright blue dress, she looked out of place, unless you looked downwards and saw the sturdy walking boots on her feet.
‘You’re just in time for tea and cake,’ said Arthur.
‘Oh I can’t stop, I just popped over to tell you there’s someone at the gate asking for you, Arthur. Frank?’
Arthur jumped up. ‘Ah yes. I’ll be right back.’
Colin watched Arthur and the woman, Ursula, shoot off through the hedge. What was Frank doing here? It seemed he couldn’t get away from the man.
‘You’re getting the hang of the digging now. Getting into your rhythm,’ said Clyde.
‘I guess I was out of practice.’
‘It used to belong to a friend, this patch. Samuel Sweeting. He was a good man. Much loved. Much loved. Died right on this spot.’ He pointed to Colin’s feet.
‘What, this spot here, where I’m sitting?’ Colin shifted his chair further back.
‘That’s right. It was very peaceful. He was sitting right there, listening to the cricket on the radio, and he just nodded off. Shame he didn’t stick around to the end. West Indies hammered the English. He’d have been happy about that. He loved his cricket and his allotment. He died in the place he loved best. Doing the things he loved best. Yer can’t say fairer than that.’
‘Didn’t he have any family?’
‘Yes. Ah, here’s Frank. Right, I’m done for the day. I’m going home for a decent cup of tea and a shower, then I’m away to my club. It’s dominoes night tonight. Come on, Colonel.’
The big dog hauled himself up and took his place at the old man’s side. It was hard to believe this was the father of little Maud’s pups, although the evidence couldn’t be denied.
Frank sat down in Clyde’s vacant seat. ‘Colin.’
‘Frank.’
‘There’s been a development. Will’s home.’
‘I thought he wasn’t due back until next week.’ Colin’s insides took a giant leap. This could be his chance to talk to Will. Maybe they’d be able to find some common ground. But then reality hit and he remembered the condition of his stay. When Will got home, he was out the door. Crap. He was homeless again.
‘He surprised us and came back early.’
He didn’t like the way Frank included himself in the surprise, as if Will was his family. ‘Can I see him?’
‘No, he’s gone to his girlfriend’s for the night. The thing is, Colin, you’re going to have to move out of Netta’s. You can move into mine. For now. But there are conditions.’
Colin screwed up his eyes. Of course there were conditions. Weren’t there always conditions? What was it with these people and their fucking conditions? ‘What conditions?’
‘You can’t go over to Netta’s, and you mustn’t try to interact with Will. He doesn’t want to engage with you. I’m sorry.’
But was he though? Was Frank genuinely sorry, or was he enjoying Colin’s humiliation as much as the rest of them? ‘I’m not sure I like those conditions.’
‘I’m not sure I like having you in my house, to be honest, but we are where we are. If I were you, I’d take the offer before I change my mind. The alternative is either a hotel, your own family, or Geraldine and Arthur’s.’
Geraldine and Arthur’s? Colin shuddered. Somehow, living with his parents or his sanctimonious sister didn’t have a ring to it either. And hotels were expensive, unless you went to one of those really seedy ones. He might have given up accountancy long ago but he still knew a poor financial decision when he saw one.
‘Or you could try to get back into your own house,’ said Frank.
Colin gritted his teeth. ‘I’m not ready for that yet. I accept your offer.’
‘And you’ll stick to the conditions?’
‘Yes, I’ll stick to the conditions,’ he said, much as he wanted to tell Frank O’Hare where to shove his bastard conditions.