Page 46 of Calling Frank O'Hare

‘Is there anything I can do?’

Imbecile. The man was actually an imbecile. ‘Yes there’s something you can do. You can get that slippery fecker back home, pronto.’

‘Right you are then. I’ll leave you to it.’

Siobhan stared at her phone in disbelief and not for the first time wished she was an only child.

Darcy, her PA, opened the door. ‘Coffee?’

Siobhan adjusted her expression to serene but businesslike. She couldn’t have the team seeing her with her demented face on, although that was getting increasingly difficult to hide lately. ‘Yes please. How long before my next meeting?’

‘Half an hour.’

Just enough time to try Bronagh. She waited until Darcy closed the door and got straight on the phone.

‘How are yer, Bronagh?’

‘I’m holding up. Have you any more news on the road trip?’

‘They’re in Fort William, wherever that is. Frank’s just called me. He said it was you that threw Martin out. Is that right?’

‘It is.’

Darcy brought in the coffee. Siobhan mouthed a thank you and waited for her to leave. ‘Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place?’

‘I thought you’d be cross.’

‘Why would I be cross with you? You’re my best friend.’

‘I know. I’m sorry, love. I’m just not thinking straight.’

Siobhan pinched the top of her nose. She’d known Bronagh for years. If she hadn’t introduced her to Martin in the first place, none of this would be happening right now. Although calling it an introduction probably wouldn’t have held water under the Trade Descriptions Act. A more accurate depiction was that Martin happened to be drinking in the same pub she and Bronagh had chosen for a night out. One look at the gorgeousness of Bronagh and he’d zoomed in on them like an Exocet missile seeking its target. All the same, Siobhan felt responsible for this mess. If only because she’d been slow in spotting Martin on that fateful night and didn’t get Bronagh out of the pub before he’d had a chance to come at her, all guns blazing with the charms and the sparkling smile. She sighed. ‘It’s okay. Do you want to tell me why?’

‘Not now. Can you come over later?’

She smiled at the prospect of an evening with Bronagh, even if it was listening to her pouring her heart out. At least it was better than sitting in your jammies and screaming at the TV. ‘You bet. I’ll bring a bottle.’

‘Bring two. It’s a long story.’

30

Frank asks the question

The place they were heading to was only about sixty miles away, but the journey involved a short ferry ride and mostly single track road that took them through scenery Frank could only describe as breathtaking. When Netta had told him about her journey to Doogie’s cottage, he’d mentally sketched out the colours and the immenseness of the mountains, the sprawl of the lochs, and the vast expanse of the skies. Now that he was here, he could see he’d underestimated all of those things. Yes, it was breathtaking. No doubt about it.

By the time they reached the farm where they were staying, Frank had a strong feeling that it could be the place where Doogie lived. When he met the farmer, any remaining doubts were erased. Netta had mentioned the name before so when she introduced herself as Grace Buchanan, it was pretty cut and dry. Netta had also told him that Grace and Doogie were in a relationship. Five minutes in her company and Frank could see why. Grace Buchanan was like a horsier version of Netta, with a Scottish accent.

They got showered and changed, washed their clothes in the rudimentary washing facilities and then walked down to the nearby beach before they lost the day. The light was already fading into mauves and purples that would soon be blue-black. Even at this time of day, the sand was a silvery white. Before Robyn was born, he and Ellen had holidayed in the Caribbean and the Far East. Paid for by Ellen, naturally. One of his compromises. They saw some of the most stunning beaches in the world. He’d never expected to see anything like them in the north-west of Scotland.

‘I’m going to paint this tomorrow.’

He said it more to himself than anything. In fact, he hadn’t realised he’d said it out loud until Finn replied: ‘Okay. But tonight let’s just make a fire and eat here. Grace said it’s okay, if we make sure we put it out when we’re done.’

They ate their food and looked out to the horizon without speaking. Words weren’t necessary. When Martin eventually broke their silence it was almost in a whisper: ‘Imagine living here.’

‘Sure, you’d be bored after a month,’ said Finn. ‘You’re too fond of the bright lights, Marty.’

Martin let out a long, contented sigh. ‘Maybe. I’d be willing to give it a try though.’

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