Page 14 of Calling Frank O'Hare

Frank gulped and told himself staying cool was the key to success. ‘Two pints of lager.’

‘Which lager?’

Which? Bollocks, he hadn’t thought of that. Frank’s eyes shot across the taps in a panic. ‘Er, Harp.’

The barman gave him the beady eye, but he still poured out two pints and took his money.

Puffed up and triumphant, Frank took the drinks back to the others. When he reached them, he found Martin and Finn had their own pints. ‘Where’d you get them from?’

‘They were left on the bar. Will we get some more?’ said Finn.

Frank stopped him before he headed back. ‘Fuck no. You’ll get us killed. I mean, really killed. Proper dead.’

Martin supped on his stolen beer. ‘Suit yourself.’

Billy took his drink from Frank. ‘No one’s gonna kill them and at least we all get our own pints.’

Frank shook his head. Sometimes Billy was worse than the other two, and they were bad enough.

The record shop fella came back on stage and announced a band from Derry. Everyone was bouncing up and down to their first song, except for one person. Frank stood, open-mouthed. It was the most perfect song he’d ever heard in his life. Too perfect to do anything other than stop and listen, and take it in. He was grinning, that much he was aware of. He was probably the only one in the room not moving, but Frank couldn’t care less. Nor did he care about stolen drinks, or getting his head kicked in by some angry fellas looking for their pints. Nothing mattered now that he’d heard ‘Teenage Kicks.’ Nothing.

The band seemed to be on the stage for just minutes and then they were gone.

Billy’s eyes were popping out of his head. ‘What were they called again?’

Frank stared at the stage. ‘The Undertones.’

‘Are they really one of us?’

‘They must be. They said they were from Derry.’

Billy grabbed hold of him. ‘We have to get that record.’

On the way home, they were stopped twice by the soldiers and narrowly missed getting locked up, thanks to Finn who’d managed to get drunk on hardly more than a sniff of lager. By the time they got to Billy Mac’s, it was getting on for midnight.

‘Ma said you can stay at ours if you want to,’ said Frank.

Billy snorted. ‘You must be joking. I don’t wanna be around when your ma blows a gasket. Anyway, I have to help get the wee ones to school in the morning.’

Shit. Frank had forgotten about the curfew. The parents would be going up the wall with worry by now. Ma probably had the search parties out as soon as the clock ticked past nine. And the ould man wouldn’t be much better. Frank was going to be in so much trouble when they got home, but it didn’t matter anymore. He walked the rest of the way with ‘Teenage Kicks’ running through his head. So what if he was going to get battered. He’d just had the best night of his life.

10

FB and Yoda get cosy

They’d been on the road for several hours since they’d left Rebel. Frank had lost track of time so it was difficult to tell exactly how long. On top of that, he had no idea where they were. He could ask Finn but the answer would mean nothing to him. All he knew was that it must be time for them to stop for the night. He checked. It was eight-thirty, although it was so bright you’d never guess it. His back ached and he had cramp in his legs. In the morning, he’d be sure to readjust that seat but for tonight, he just wanted to stretch out on a comfortable bed. ‘Will we be stopping soon?’ he said.

Finn looked startled, as if he’d forgotten Frank was there. ‘There’s a place just up the road here with facilities. We’ll stay there tonight, as we’ve no facilities of our own.’

‘So long as it’s got a comfortable bed, a shower and a toilet.’

‘Well it has toilets. One out of three ain’t bad.’ Finn turned off the main road, up a side road towards what looked like nothing more than a toilet block.

Frank looked at him, aghast. ‘You’re kidding me?’

Finn pulled up next to a motorhome and cut the engine. ‘Nope. We’re pitching up here tonight.’

‘Pitching? In a–’

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