Page 25 of Calling Frank O'Hare

Siobhan was about to get her roots done when her phone rang.

Shayne stopped stirring a pot of brownish black gunk and raised one eyebrow at her reflection in the mirror. ‘Do you want to get that?’

‘No, I’ll leave it.’

‘Are you sure now? We both know what you’re like.’

‘Yes, I’m sure. Or maybe I should. Do you think I should, Shayne?’

He put the pot down. ‘Are you really asking me whether you should answer your phone? For feck’s sake, Siobhan.’

‘All right, I’ll answer it.’ But it was too late, the ringing had stopped. ‘It’s Ma. I’ll call her back later.’

Shayne did the one eyebrow raise again. ‘She won’t have left a message?’

‘This is Ma we’re talking about.’

‘Fair point. You don’t want to call her back then?’

‘Shayne, just slap that shit on my head and stop probing, will yer?’ Siobhan threw him a no nonsense look. One of the plus points of having a hairdresser who was also one of your oldest friends was that you didn’t have to do the small talk. But sometimes it had its drawbacks. Right now it would have been nice to talk about what she had planned for the rest of the day or where she was going on holiday this year, even if the answers were nothing and nowhere.

Shayne’s lips pinched together as he picked up the pot again. ‘I wasn’t probing. I just know it’ll be playing on your mind and you won’t be able to relax. Look at you, you’re all tensed up.’

She eased her shoulders away from her ears which was harder than it should be, thanks to the knots in between her shoulder blades. ‘I’m sorry I shouted. I’m just so, yer know.’

‘You need a relaxing massage. Glenda upstairs is quiet today. Will I ask one of the girls to pop up and book you in?’

She wasn’t too sure about that. The last time she’d had a relaxing massage from Glenda, it was a week before she could walk straight again. ‘I don’t think I have the time.’

‘You’ve just said you have the day off.’

‘Yeah but… Okay then. But tell her, just a gentle massage.’

Siobhan inched her aching body into the car. Never. Ever. Again. Fecking Glenda didn’t know the meaning of the word gentle. And God only knows where she got her so-called qualifications from. One of those joke places off of the internet probably. People like her should be banned from laying their hands on another living body.

Ma rang for the fourth time in the last two hours. She considered ignoring it, just as she’d done the others, but decided it might actually be something important.

‘Where have you been? Have you not seen my calls?’ Ma started before Siobhan had even said hello.

‘I couldn’t come to the phone. What is it?’

‘They’ve gone on a road trip, whatever that’s supposed to mean.’

‘A what? Never mind, I’m on my way.’

Da opened the door to her. That should have raised alarm bells in itself. Ma was usually like one of those troll gatekeepers when it came to the front door. Now Siobhan had knots in her stomach to go with her aching back. ‘What’s going on?’

Ma was in the hall in an instant. ‘They phoned while I was at the shops. A road trip. That’s what Martin called it, wasn’t it Gerry?’

‘It was.’ Da put his arm around Ma. ‘Come on now, Clodagh, it’s not that bad. It’s only a week. Martin gave me his word that he’d come home and sort things out with Bronagh after that.’

‘Daddy, you do know Martin’s word is worth diddly-squat?’ said Siobhan.

‘Let’s give him a chance to prove us wrong. Anyways, it’ll do them good to spend some time together. Give them a chance to clear the air.’ Da smiled. It was the kind of smile that had been enough to make everything all right when she was a girl. But she was a mature woman now and a patronising fatherly smile didn’t quite cut it.

Ma looked pained. Like she wanted to believe him but something was stopping her. Not that she would admit it, because that would mean she’d have to contradict him which was something she never did. Not in public anyway.

‘Well I’m away upstairs,’ he said.

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