Page 20 of Calling Frank O'Hare

Suddenly his phone pinged. He pulled it out of his pocket with all the excitement of a kid who’d just been given a bike for Christmas. He’d had several messages and at least six missed calls from Siobhan. More importantly, there were a couple of messages from Netta. Nothing earth shattering, just asking if he was okay. She’d left him a voicemail message too. He tapped out the number, cursing his fat fingers for pressing the wrong ones. He got through and heard her voice, her sweet, lovely voice: ‘Hi Frank. Just saying hello. I hope you’re looking after yourself. No real news here. The dogs are fine. The kids are fine. Speak to you soon. Have you found Martin yet?’

He checked the time. He might just catch her before she left work.

‘Well hello. I guess I can stop worrying that you’re stuck up a mountain somewhere now,’ she said.

‘I’m at the seaside actually, in a graveyard.’

‘Oh. You go to all the best places. Are you okay?’

‘I had a bit of back trouble this morning but Finn put me right. I’m still coming to terms with his drift from debauchery to sainthood but other than that, I’m doing all right. Sorry I haven’t been in touch. This phone is useless. It can’t seem to cope with all this Highland scenery.’

‘That’s okay. I had the same problem when I visited Doogie and my phone’s a lot newer than yours. Have you found your brother?’

‘Almost. We’re hot on his trail.’

‘Where are you?’

‘Right at the top. A place called Balnakeil.’

‘Not sure where that is but I think it might be quite a way from Doogie.’

Doogie again. She’d mentioned him twice and they’d only been talking for a few minutes. He changed the subject: ‘It’s wonderful up here, Net. The colours.’

‘I knew you’d like it. We should go up together sometime. You can paint and I’ll stand behind you and say how wonderful it is.’

‘I’d like that.’

‘Hang on, I’m losing you. Are you there? Fra…’

Gone. She was gone. Frank looked at his phone in disbelief. ‘Fucking piece of shit.’ There was so much he had left to say. He wanted to tell her about the stag and the mist on the water. He wanted to tell her he was missing her. He just wanted to talk to her.

Desperate, he ran around the graveyard trying for a signal. Nothing. It was useless. He looked up to the sky, cursing the god he didn’t believe in. And then he saw him, standing by the church ruins. The big gormless eejit was grinning from ear to ear. Martin, sneaky fecker, O’Hare.

14

The absence of brotherly love

Martin opened his arms out as if he was waiting for Frank to run into them, a big, stupid grin still plastered across his big, stupid face. Frank took deliberately slow steps towards the ruins, all the while refusing to look at him. He didn’t deserve a look. And if he thought Frank was going to let him throw his arms around him, he’d better think again. There’d be none of that brotherly love stuff here. That ran out a long time ago. If it ever existed in the first place.

‘Frankie Boy!’ Martin took a step towards him, looking ready for a full-on bear hug.

Frank swerved in the nick of time. ‘Does Finn know you’re here?’

‘Aye. He’s waiting on the beach for us. Sure, you’re looking great Frank.’

No he was not looking great. He was looking like a dog’s arse, and if Martin wasn’t such a bullshitter, he’d have said it. ‘C’mon. Let’s find Finn.’

Frank left the graveyard, none the wiser on John Lennon’s auntie. Martin danced around him and jabbered on like a daft fool: ‘This is some place, huh? Beats city life, what? Did yer see the deer, did yer?’

They got down to the beach, a stretch of long white sand that was deserted except for a couple of walkers and Finn, sitting watching the turquoise waters crashing into foaming white waves. Martin dropped down next to Finn. Frank eased himself carefully onto his backside. Finn kept his eyes on the sea and stayed silent. He didn’t appear to be angry. In fact he seemed completely devoid of emotion. It was like looking at a blank canvas that some other artist was about to fill in. He let out a single long breath and blinked, then he was with them. ‘You found each other then. Good.’

Martin leaned back on his elbows. ‘Aye, we did. So how are yer, Frank?’

How was he? The cheek of him. The fecking cheek of him. Frank had been trying to keep a lid on it but that was the limit. ‘How do you think I am? I’ve got Ma and Siobhan calling me non-stop, insisting I come after you. I’ve lost valuable work time, and my back is probably fucked. But hey, it’s not all about me. How’ve you been Martin?’

‘Me? Oh I’m grand.’ Martin smirked. It was pure wickedness, and it took Frank right back to their childhood.

‘Of course you are. Why wouldn’t you be? Never mind that you’ve left your wife and kids, taken advantage of Finn, and had everyone in the family worried about you. And don’t even trouble yourself that you’ve got me up here on a wild goose chase. You’re grand. That’s all that matters.’

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