Page 40 of Calling Frank O'Hare

Frank, the condemned man – 1981

Ellen Montague was crazy. Crazy and completely unpredictable. One minute she couldn’t get enough of Frank and the next she’d take off for days without telling him. Sometimes she could party like no other. Even Finn wouldn’t have kept up with her. Other times, she’d drag Frank off to some relative’s cottage in the countryside for long walks where they’d talk about the futility of life. Well, she’d talk. Frank would just make the right noises in the appropriate places.

It was the kind of craziness that Frank found irresistible. It would be easy to say it was because she was so very different to anyone he’d ever known, but there was more to it than that. At first he’d been attracted by her beauty. If he was honest, he’d always be drawn to that, but he was not so shallow that he couldn’t distinguish between physical attraction and a deeper feeling. Even if he couldn’t put a name to that feeling. Ellen was exotic. She was strange. She was an adventure. She was an expedition into the unknown. Other girls didn’t come close to her and although she didn’t seem to care if he was seeing anyone else, he had no interest in it. It could only end badly for him but Frank was falling for her.

It was obvious he was punching above his weight and she’d soon drop him, just like she’d done with the cockney. He kept reminding himself it was only ever going to be one of those encounters you remember with fondness when you’re old and grey. Eventually, she’d settle down with a public school twat who played polo and every now and then, he’d recall the time he caught the attention of a high class girl who had a weakness for lower class boys. Or, as Adrian put it, a bit of rough. Frank was Ellen’s bit of rough. He found that ridiculously thrilling.

It was the summer break that helped to get her out of his system a little, and put things into perspective. Frank and Adrian had spent the holiday bumming around Europe. It had given him the time and space to think about his future. Too much of his first year had been taken up with Ellen, and his end of year ratings had suffered because of it. He’d have to work harder for the next two years if he wanted to get a good job and stay in England. That was his plan now. He’d tasted too much freedom to go back home.

When the break was over, he’d been surprised to find that while he’d cooled off, Ellen had gone the other way. No more taking off. She was stuck to him like glue. It was kind of flattering, but he needed to knuckle down so he had to lay down some rules. She said he was boring but she stuck around.

Then her grandmother died, and she was in pieces. Frank was good with death. He’d seen enough of it to know how to behave. If there was one thing he’d learned from Ma, it was how to take care of the grieving. He held Ellen for hours while she cried herself out. He washed her clothes, washed her, cooked for her and made sure she ate.

On the day of the funeral, Adrian borrowed his dad’s car and they drove Ellen to Surrey. She looked stunning in black, and Frank was ashamed of the stirrings in his groin. On the way to her grandmother’s village, they drove along leafy lanes with cosy cottages and houses that looked like they were dripping with money. When they reached it, Ellen asked them to stop up the road from the church. ‘I’ll walk it from here. I’ll have to go home afterwards for a few days, so don’t wait.’ She kissed Adrian on the cheek. ‘Thank you. You’re the kindest friend.’

Frank got out of the car with her. ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right?’

She threw her arms around him. ‘I think I may be in love with you.’

He watched her striding off. There was a strange jitteriness in his chest. Did she just say she loved him? He got back in the car and caught Adrian wiping his eyes. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Well you know, it’s sad isn’t it?’

Yes it was, and yet Frank was the happiest he’d ever been.

So they were a proper couple now. Ellen had a flat she shared with two other girls, but she preferred to be in the house Frank and Adrian shared with their mates. She said it was because her flatmates were prim about sex. Ellen was not prim about sex. She loved it any which way, but most of all she liked to climb on top of Frank and ride him like he was one of her daddy’s stallions. She’d only said her father kept horses, but the more Frank found out about Brigadier Hugh Montague, the more he assumed they’d be stallions. Maybe it was because he was big in the show jumping world. That was his hobby, making horses leap over poles and do silly walks, something called dressage, apparently. His job was killing people. Or at least it had been until he retired from the army. He worked the land now. That was what she called it. Somehow, Frank didn’t think that meant he ploughed the fields and scattered, or milked the cows. His other assumption about the Brigadier was that he had people to do that sort of thing for him. They were loose assumptions based entirely on what Ellen had told him, but university was breaking up for Christmas and Frank was about to find out if his assumptions were correct. He was going to meet the parents.

The first shock for Frank was that someone met them at the station who was not a family member or friend. They were staff, or Ray, as he was officially called. To Frank’s relief, Ray called Ellen by her first name. If he’d called her Miss, he wasn’t sure his working class sensibilities would be able to stand it.

Ray was maybe in his forties. He wasn’t a big man but he was muscular. He had short, neat hair. His clothes were casual but pressed. Everything about him screamed off-duty soldier. When Ellen introduced them, he nodded, his face blank. Frank did the same. They both knew how to play the game, even though they both also knew Ray had already noted every single detail about Frank as soon as he’d stepped off the train.

They got into the back of a Land Rover that was as clean and tidy as its driver. It cruised through Weybridge and out into the countryside.

Ellen wound the window down, the wind blowing her hair in Frank’s face as the car picked up speed. ‘Who’s at home?’

‘Everyone. Gavin got back yesterday,’ said Ray.

‘That’s my darling brother,’ she informed Frank. ‘You’ll meet them all straight away.’

‘Looking forward to it,’ he lied. ‘Do you think they’ll like me?’

She looked at him as if he was mad. ‘God no. They’ll hate you.’

Ray’s eyes wrinkled as he glanced at them through the rear-view mirror.

If the news that he was about to be despised wasn’t enough to make him crap himself, then the sight of the Montagues’ farm was. It was nothing like any farm Frank had ever seen, not that he’d seen many. It was a massive mansion that was nearly as big as his old school. The entrance hall was probably the same size as his parents’ house. Its walls were covered in portraits that dated back a century or two. The middle of it was dominated by an ornately carved staircase that shone so much there was light bouncing off it. This was no backwater retreat. It was practically a country seat.

Mrs Montague was waiting for them in the sitting room. She didn’t embrace Ellen. She didn’t even look pleased to see her. As soon as Frank spoke, her face dropped. ‘You’re from Northern Ireland.’

It wasn’t a question, but Frank felt he should answer: ‘That’s correct.’

She sighed. ‘Tea?’

Taking tea with Mrs Montague was a feat in itself. Before then, Frank had no idea that the task of drinking a cup of tea and eating tiny cakes could be so hellish. When they eventually escaped, Ellen showed him to his room where he found that another member of staff had not only taken up his bag, but had also unpacked it. Jesus Christ. Even Ma wouldn’t have the brass to go through his private things. He hoped it was the last straw, but he had a horrible feeling there was worse to come.

Ellen pulled him onto the bed. ‘Poor baby. We’re disgustingly rich, aren’t we? Try to let it wash over you. Maybe this will help.’ She unzipped his flies and within minutes, all that mattered was that she was on top of him, riding him like one of her daddy’s stallions.

They avoided the family until dinner which was being taken in the relatively smaller breakfast room as there were only four of them because Gavin, the brother, had gone out. Mr and Mrs Montague were waiting for them in the sitting room.

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