49. There are more ways to be unfaithful
49
THERE ARE MORE WAYS TO BE UNFAITHFUL
Priscilla was dressed up in what looked like her Sunday church outfit. She always looked smart, but today’s extra effort was noticeable. She was wearing a wig. What with that and the make-up, she looked younger.
Doogie held out his arm for her. ‘You’re looking mighty fine today, Priscilla.’ He hadn’t meant to sound like he’d just stepped out of a cheesy seventies TV series. It wasn’t the kind of thing he’d say in real life, more the kind of thing his dad used to say to his mum, back in the day. He’d been thinking a lot about him since Merrie brought him up. That was probably why it had slipped out.
Priscilla fixed him with a stern glare. ‘Don’t think that gives you the right to flirt with me, young man. I’m very particular about who I receive amorous remarks from.’
He winked. ‘Does that mean you’ve got someone you’re less particular with then?’
Her face creased. ‘There might be a certain widower at church I exchange pleasantries with. And no, it is not Clyde Wilson before you start getting ideas into that thick head of yours. That man hasn’t seen the inside of God’s house since him buried his wife. This gentleman is cut from much finer cloth.’
‘No chance for me then?’
She slapped his hand. ‘Absolutely none. I got very high standards these days. Are we going, or are we going to talk nonsense on my doorstep all morning?’
‘We’re going.’ He offered his arm up to her again.
She batted him away like she was swatting a fly. ‘I’m not an invalid. I can walk down my own garden path without falling over.’
She waited while he opened the passenger door for her, then sat in the seat and put her handbag on her lap. Doogie gave her time to do the seatbelt up before closing the door. When he got inside the car himself, he noticed how very upright she was. She was holding the handbag so tight he could see her knuckle bones through her skin.
‘I’m not that bad a driver,’ he joked.
‘Shut up your foolish mouth and drive,’ she said without looking at him.
By the time they pulled up outside the allotment gates, beads of sweat were showing on Priscilla’s forehead. She wiped them away with a tissue.
‘Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have your son or daughters with you?’ said Doogie.
She shook her head. ‘They’d make too much of a fuss. I’d rather do it with you.’
‘Okay. When you’re ready, I’ll call Clyde. He’s going to let us in.’
She took a compact out of her bag and began to powder her face. ‘Will she be in there?’
‘I don’t know. Probably. I think she’s there most days. Are you sure?—?’
‘Stop asking me if I’m sure.’
‘I don’t know if this helps but according to Clyde, Ursula and Samuel were just friends. They didn’t, you know?—’
‘Have sexual intercourse? No, it does not help.’
No, he didn’t think it would, but it was worth a try.
‘There are more ways to be unfaithful than sex. Sex is just the tip of the iceberg. Remember that, Dougal. It might help you make better choices in the future. You can call Clyde now.’
Well that was him told off then. Doogie stepped out of the car to make the call.
Clyde came to get them straight away, his dog Colonel a few paces behind him. He was wearing his usual straw trilby, but he looked neater than he usually did. He must have dressed up for the occasion as well. Even Colonel looked as if he’d been given a brush.
Clyde pushed his hat back. ‘Hello, Priscilla. Nice to see you again. How you doing?’
She acknowledged him with a tight nod. ‘Surviving, Clyde. What about you?’
‘Surviving, Priscilla. I’ll take you up there.’
‘No.’ She pointed to Doogie. ‘He can do that.’
Doogie could see the sweat beads had returned. He offered her his arm again. This time she took it.
Ursula wasn’t on her allotment. It would have been awkward if she had been. Presumably the same thought had occurred to her. The path that ran through the gap in the fence had been cleared properly now so it was an easier walk up to Samuel’s shed. They stopped outside. ‘This one was his,’ he said.
‘I know.’
‘Sorry, I thought you hadn’t been here before.’
‘I haven’t. His old dada used to have a shed just like this one.’ She touched the battered old wicker chair that had been left outside. ‘He even had one of these. The family had a bit a land back home in Jamaica. Not much, but enough to grow a few crops. Samuel used to help him. He missed it when we came here.’
‘It’s not locked, if you want to go inside.’
‘In a bit.’ She let go of his arm. ‘Leave me now.’
‘Okay. I’ll come back in half an hour. I won’t be far away if you need me though.’
‘If you see her, tell her come.’
Doogie nodded and walked back up the path. When he got to the hedge, he looked back. Priscilla was still standing facing the shed, her hand on the old wicker chair.
There was a bench on Ursula’s allotment. He sat down on it and pulled out his phone. Merrie had left a message to say she and Claire were coming over to Netta’s tonight for dinner. Doogie thought about Colin facing his demons, his emotions running wild. He thought about boxes, and his own demons, and what Priscilla had said about there being more ways to be unfaithful than sex. He needed to call Grace.
‘Hello.’ Her voice was sharp. She often sounded that way on the phone, even when she didn’t mean to be, but Doogie reckoned this time, she meant to be.
‘Are you in the middle of something?’
‘I’m always in the middle of something, and I’m a bit shorthanded at the moment.’ It was a dig at him not being there to help her out.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Believe it or not, I’m in your garden trying to keep the weeds down.’
‘There’s no need to do that.’
‘Why? Are you coming back to do it yourself?’
‘Yeah. Soon.’
‘How soon?’
‘Not sure yet. I have a couple of things I need to finish off. I’ll explain when I get back.’
‘Explain? That’ll be a first.’
‘Yeah well, I’m unboxing.’
‘I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.’ Her voice softened. That was a good sign.
‘It’ll make sense, I promise. Have you tried the sweetcorn yet?’
‘I barbecued some for our campers on Saturday. It would have been better with your special marinade, but they loved it as it was.’
‘Yeah? That’s good.’
‘I’m gonna go now. Unless there’s anything else you want to say?’
He had loads of things he wanted to say, but not here on the other end of a line. Not in this alien city. He wanted to sit down on an empty beach with her, watching waves crashing on white sands. He wanted to look up at vast blue skies and talk until his voice was hoarse and the heavy load of unspoken words had lifted. ‘No. I just wanted to…’ Say it. Say you just wanted to hear her voice.
‘Okay. Let me know when you’re done down there. Don’t take too long.’
‘I miss you, Gracie.’ Fuck. She’d gone.
He was aware of being watched. Ursula was on the pathway. She was wearing that bright blue dress that looked so good on her.
‘I hope you don’t mind me taking a seat. Priscilla wanted some time alone,’ he said.
‘Not at all. Is she all right?’
‘I think so. She’d like to speak to you.’
‘I see. I suppose it’s about time. I have a little stove inside if you’d like to brew up some tea. We may as well make it civilised.’ She handed him the key to her shed then went off towards the hedge.
Doogie left it a while before making the tea, to give them time to talk. Clyde turned up as the kettle was boiling. ‘Got enough water in there for one more?’
‘Don’t know if there’s enough cups.’
Clyde opened up a cabinet at the back of the shed. ‘Ursula keeps extra in here. Everybody comes to her for tea and sympathy. I don’t know who we’ll go to when she leaves us.’
They carried the tea through the hedge, along with a tub of biscuits that Clyde had supplied. Priscilla and Ursula were sitting talking. Priscilla was in the old wicker chair. When they saw Doogie and Clyde, they stopped.
Doogie handed Priscilla a china mug that he’d found in the cabinet. Geraldine had told him tea tasted better in a china cup. He couldn’t tell the difference himself, but he thought Priscilla would appreciate it. ‘We can go away again,’ he said.
The old woman eyed the cup and frowned. ‘Stay.’
He held the tub out to her. ‘Tek a biscuit.’
She arched one eyebrow. ‘That’s a terrible accent. Didn’t your father teach you nothing?’
Doogie grinned. ‘Not really, no. I can do a better Scottish accent though. Do you wanna hear it?’
‘No, I do not. Fool.’ She was smiling now.
Clyde laughed. ‘I knew you’d like him.’
She turned to Clyde. ‘Oh did you? I thought you’d just sent him to vex me.’