Page 19 of Calling Frank O'Hare

Eve laughed. ‘Yeah! That’s your job this week, Martin. Think of a name for me.’

Martin blushed. ‘Anything for you, Evie.’

Frank waited for Eve to look the other way before eyeballing him. Martin’s face was all innocence, as usual, but Frank wasn’t fooled. That sneaky fecker was up to something, and it had better not have anything to do with Eve.

13

John Lennon’s auntie

Frank had been awake for twenty minutes. He’d woken up alone. Finn had probably gone to climb a mountain or something equally fit and healthy. He, on the other hand was struggling to move. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he was physically unable to. His back was gone. But full bladders paid no heed to broken backs and he was a man with a bladder that lacked the retention capacity of youth. He had to get up before he embarrassed himself.

Unzipping the sleeping bag didn’t pose a problem. Rolling onto his side, no matter how carefully he did it, sent a pain shooting up his left buttock. He pressed on through it and forced himself onto all fours, then manoeuvred round to face the front of the tent. He managed to open it, relatively pain free, and crawled outside. Renegade’s van was still there but the man himself was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Finn, although it was fair to say Frank’s area of vision was somewhat restricted, what with him being on his hands and knees. What was in sight was the toilet block. He considered crawling over there, but he’d have to get up some time. Bit by bit, he brought his hands closer to his legs, and eased himself up, first into a kneeling position, then onto his feet. Somehow he managed to stand, put one foot in front of the other, and get to the toilet.

When he came out, he was still alone. He walked slowly around the parking area until he felt muscle and bone loosen a little. Then he did another lap and took in the colours this Scottish morning had gifted him. Last night’s fiery sky had given way to thick gunmetal cloud and a mist hung over the water. It could have been a Turner painting.

He heard the sound of something moving behind him and gingerly turned his whole body towards it. Just a few yards away, at the foot of a winding path leading up the mountain, a stag was watching him. Frank held his breath, not sure what to do. Did stags charge like bulls? He was a city man and had no idea.

They remained like this for some time, neither seeming to want to turn away from each other, until the sight of Finn and Renegade further along the path broke both their concentration. The stag dipped its head, then turned and climbed up the mountain. Frank saw then that the rest of the herd were up there behind the vegetation and once again, the stag had been keeping guard.

‘He’s a fine looking fella,’ said Finn. ‘That’s more than I can say for you though, FB. You look like shit.’

‘It’s the back. It plays up sometimes.’ Since he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get back in that Mini, there was no point in trying to hide it.

‘Well why didn’t you have Ren’s camp bed, you stupid fecker? Where does it hurt?’

‘Just here. No, don’t touch it. Finn, I said don’t. What are you… Oh!’ Frank had no idea what the hell Finn had done but whatever it was, it worked. The pain had gone.

Finn shrugged. ‘My pleasure. C’mon let’s get some breakfast.’

They were back on the road again straight after breakfast. The car had been repacked to give Frank more legroom. Finn said they’d make more stops so he could stretch but they’d still make Balnakeil before nightfall. ‘I think that’s where Martin is.’

‘Oh right. That’s good then.’ Frank was only half-listening. He was thinking about that stag protecting his family, and for some reason it made him think of Eve’s dad.

‘What made you ask about the Battle of the Bands last night?’ said Finn.

‘I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it. Only since coming up here, mind. I haven’t thought about it in years.’

‘I think about that time a lot. I used to believe they were great years. The best.’

‘Used to?’

‘Aye. Then I realised they were the worst of my life. Don’t get me wrong, I loved being with you and the boys but I drank myself stupid. I tried anything going. It was a way of coping with all that fucked-up-ness. I know that now. You did the right thing getting out. The others blamed you for breaking the gang up, but I never did.’

‘They blamed me? I never knew that.’

Finn nodded. ‘They blamed Eve too, but I didn’t see it that way.’

‘It wasn’t her fault.’ Frank checked his phone, suddenly desperate for a message from Netta. Still no signal. That’s what he got for hanging onto such an old knacker. The first thing he was going to do when he got home was purchase a fancy new one with a signal you could pick up from Mars.

They’d reached the coast. Finn found the last spot in a small car park sandwiched in between a graveyard and the beach. ‘I’ll ask around, see if anyone’s seen the van. You should take a look in the graveyard. John Lennon’s auntie’s buried in there.’

‘Really? Are you messing with me, Finn Boy?’

‘I am not. Take a look. The walk’ll do your back good.’

A memory resurfaced of him carrying Finn home because he’d passed out. Another came. Him and Martin stopping Finn from throwing himself off a balcony because he was stoned and was convinced he could fly. Now Finn was fixing his back and telling him to take walks for the sake of his health. What had the world come to? Still, John Lennon’s auntie? That was worth a look. Just to see if it was true.

He walked up and down reading the gravestones, then realised he didn’t actually know the name of John Lennon’s auntie, so unless it was obvious, he had no way of finding her. But it was a nice, solitary place to heal your body and be alone with your thoughts. He remembered what Finn had said that morning about Billy and Martin blaming him for going away. He’d always had a sneaking suspicion. But then he’d had suspicions about many things. Perhaps some of them were true and perhaps they weren’t. He’d probably never find out. But blaming him for breaking up their gang, that wasn’t fair.

---