26. The portrait of Colin Grey
26
THE PORTRAIT OF COLIN GREY
Colin had been having a nice dream about him and Netta on their wedding day. Or Annette as she’d been to him then. The vicar was just about to pronounce them man and wife when he woke up and found her looming over him. Maybe looming was an overstatement, but she was in his room which came as a shock. ‘Could you not have knocked?’
‘I did, but you didn’t answer.’
‘So you just barged in.’
‘Pretty much, yes. You look as bad as Frank. Were you two on the pop last night?’
‘In a manner of speaking, yes. Is there something I can do for you?’
‘The others have taken the dogs for the Sunday morning walk. I thought we’d have a chat.’
Colin put his head in his hands. ‘Oh God no, not a chat.’
The corners of Netta’s mouth twitched. ‘I’ll make you a strong coffee.’
He threw on some clothes and went down to the kitchen where coffee was waiting for him. The little dog, Maud, was with her. Thanks to his hangover, the room seemed brighter this morning. Brighter in the sunny sense of the word that this. The kitchen itself was rather dull and tired and in need of a good revamp, much like the rest of this house. If there was one thing Colin had learned about Frank O’Hare during his stay here, it was that he was not a man who cared too much about appearances. Especially when it came to his home. Shabby chic it was not.
Dust particles floated before his eyes. It made him think of the shed he’d spent the last few days cleaning. Ursula had already gone by the time he’d finished yesterday which was disappointing because he wanted to see her face when she first went in.
‘We can sit outside if you like. There’s no one else at home.’ She meant Will. It was safe to go out there because Will wasn’t at home. In truth, Colin was feeling a bit too delicate to face the sunshine, but he should take the opportunity while he was able to. And anyway, the smell of stale curry was making him feel sick.
‘No one? Has Doogie gone for the walk as well then?’ He was thinking of Frank, imagining how hard that would be for him. Frank hadn’t admitted it last night, but Colin could tell, Chambers was stirring up all sorts of emotions in him too. And like he said last night, he understood. Frank had obviously thought he was making trouble. If it had been a year or so ago, his assumption would probably have been spot on. But a lot had happened since then and frankly, Colin didn’t have the energy for trouble. He’d actually been trying to show a bit of empathy, but it was lost on Frank. Naturally. Like everyone else, Frank had long ago formed an opinion of him that was not for changing.
‘Doogie had something else to do. It’s just us. Shall we?’ Netta had clearly decided not to wait for his answer and already had the back door open.
They sat on a bench in the shade. It was nice to be out here in the fresh air, not worrying that he was going to offend someone’s sensibilities by simply being here. He let his hand slip down to Maud and she pushed her head against it.
Netta smiled, more at the dog than him. ‘She has a sense for people who are struggling. She must think you need a friend.’
He had a sudden flashback from last night, that portrait of Liza’s, and took his hand away. It was bad enough that his daughter pitied him. He didn’t need it from a fucking dog as well. Not taking the hint, the dog leaned against his leg. Colin considered pushing it away, but Netta caught his eye and he thought the better of it.
‘I was doing a market in Moseley yesterday. I saw Arianne again.’
‘Oh.’ He supposed it had to happen. Netta was always doing markets in the area and Arianne, with her obsession for so-called natural foods, was bound to bump into her at some point. ‘Was she on her own?’
‘No. Someone was with her.’
‘A big guy? Name of Shelley?’
‘Byron. Wrong romantic poet.’
‘Right. English was never my strongest subject.’
‘You know about him then?’
‘Only recently found out about him.’
‘When, Tuesday?’ She was putting two and two together and was about to make five.
‘No. She told me about him the last time we spoke. Right before she blocked my number.’
‘How did you know he was a big guy?’
Bugger. He’d given too much away. Stupid of him. No point trying to backtrack now. He’d only dig a hole for himself. ‘I’ve seen him.’
‘On Tuesday?’
He let out a short sigh. It came out like a huff. ‘Yes.’
‘Colin, did he assault you?’
He thought about letting her think it was Byron but knowing Netta, she’d be all for calling the police and then he’d have to admit the truth. ‘No. Can we just drop this?’
‘It was Arianne, wasn’t it?’
He was about to get up and walk away but the little dog jumped onto his lap. ‘Can you tell your dog to get off me, please?’
‘I’m afraid she has a mind of her own. I can’t make her do anything.’
‘She’s a dog. They’re supposed to be able to obey simple commands.’
Netta shrugged. ‘Try telling her that. So, it was Arianne who did that to your face then.’
‘It was an accident.’
‘And the other bruises on your body, were they accidents as well?’
‘Yes. I told you, I tripped on the stairs.’ Colin’s throat tightened. Invisible walls were closing in on him and taking the air away.
He felt her hand on his arm, her touch making the walls retreat. He could breathe again. ‘How long have you been having panic attacks?’
‘I don’t have panic attacks. It’s just a touch of hay fever.’
‘Your heart’s pounding. You feel like your chest and throat are shrinking, and there’s no air left.’
‘It’s not like that at all,’ he said but the walls were already closing again.
‘I understand what it feels like.’
He moved his arm away. No she didn’t. How could she?
‘Shall we just sit here quietly?’ she said.
‘Yes, please.’
He let her take his hand. The little dog leaned up against his chest. Colin stroked its fur and listened to the sound of the world turning around him. He rested his head on Netta’s shoulder and closed his eyes. How long was it since he’d been this close to her? Close enough to breathe in the scent of her. Close enough to feel her strong, steady heartbeat. Too long. Far too long.
He didn’t know how many minutes or hours they’d stayed there on that bench. Time had stopped. All he knew was that his peace had been broken by the noise coming from Netta’s house. The dog walkers were back. Maud slipped off his lap and he stood up. ‘I’d better go back inside. Don’t want to upset Will.’
Netta still had his hand. ‘He’s going away at the end of the week. If you want to, you can come back to stay until he gets back.’
‘I think I’m good staying with Frank, if he doesn’t mind. But I’d like to come over sometimes, if that’s acceptable.’
‘Yes, it is. You know I’m here when you’re ready to talk?’
He nodded and went back into the house before he did something stupid like try to kiss her.
The stale curry odour hit him again as soon as he returned to the kitchen. Last night he’d been salivating at the thought of it. It didn’t smell quite so tasty now. He scraped the dried-up leftovers into a bag and took them straight out to the bin at the front of the house.
A pretty girl with long blonde hair was going through Netta’s gate. She waved at him as she walked down the path, and then he realised who she was. It was Belle, Will’s girlfriend. He’d only seen her once before, about a year ago. Coincidentally, that had been the last time he and Arianne had been to the Rajdoot. Frank’s daughter had come down with some friends from Edinburgh and there was a big party of them taking up the back of the restaurant. That girl had been there too. Kelly. Colin struggled to understand the hold that young woman had over his ex-wife and children. He’d tried his utmost to sow seeds of doubt in Liza’s head about her, but all it got him was a warning to back off and a label. Snob. Apparently, he was a nasty snob. It was the only time he thought Liza might fall out with him.
He gave Belle a little wave back, threw the bag into the bin and scurried off before Will opened the door to her. Back inside, he tackled the dirty dishes, wiped round the worktops, and opened the windows to get rid of the remaining smells. He’d enjoyed talking to Frank last night. He’d probably said too much though. He didn’t have any male friends. He didn’t have any friends at all really. Arianne had been his friend once. They’d met at an art class not long after the second coming. He’d gone there for something to take his mind off Netta and Chambers. He’d always been good at drawing and painting, but it was just a hobby, until it became something to be. Something Netta might respect. What a waste of time that had been.
He looked through the open door to Frank’s studio. Last night, he’d made it across the threshold, gone in there and seen Liza’s painting. And what a painting. Frank had said it was inspired and it was. But it was also devastating. He needed to see it again. He needed to feel it.
He forced himself into the room, closed his eyes and breathed in. No curry smells here. Just paint, layer upon layer of it filling the room, filling his nostrils, reminding him of the person he used to be. Underneath it all, there was a different smell lingering in the air. White spirit.
The last time he’d set foot in his own studio, the day he finally gave in, was nearly three months ago. There’d been an argument because he’d turned down his usual summer residency at Lake Como. He’d known there’d be hell to pay: Arianne loved those retreats, but he’d had no choice. What good was an art teacher whose hands shook every time he got close to a canvas? She was in a rage, knocking over his paints, throwing things. And then she saw a glass jar filled with white spirit. When she’d done with venting her anger. Colin cleaned the room up, closed the door and didn’t go in again.
He reopened his eyes and looked around Frank’s studio. It was a small room, but Frank had managed to cram in three easels, a bench for his paints and a little café style table with two chairs. The easels each had canvases and there were another four finished paintings leaning against the wall. Frank occasionally exhibited at the same gallery as him, so he was familiar with his work. It was impressive. Wild and natural. Nothing like Colin’s style.
He stopped in front of Liza’s portrait. Now that he was looking at it sober, he could appreciate it properly. It was good. More than good. It was amazing. His daughter was an amazingly talented artist. How had he not known this? If anything, she was too good, because she’d captured the real Colin Grey. Not the one he wanted to be but the one he truly was. A sad, and angry man with a broken past and no future. Nasty and bitter, with all the kindness emptied out of him. That’s what they’d done to him, his ex-wife and her lover. He needed to remember that instead of getting all sentimental.
Colin backed away. He had to get out of there. Away from this room, this house and the one next door. He needed to be with someone who didn’t know him.