Page 47 of Calling Frank O'Hare

Frank was thinking about Doogie, a city boy and party animal through and through, from what Netta had told him. How had he ended up in this remote place? He’d been looking out for him ever since he’d got here. Although he wasn’t sure he’d recognise him if their paths did cross, since he’d only seen him once in a photo from back in the late eighties. He was hoping Doogie had aged badly.

He didn’t want to kill the mood but he needed to talk about the call he’d had with Siobhan. ‘I spoke to Siobhan earlier. Bronagh didn’t tell her she’d thrown you out.’

‘You think I’m lying?’ Martin’s expression was half astounded, half amused. When they’d been younger, it had been his go-to face when he was trying to bluff his way out of something. Frank hated it back then. He still hated it now.

‘I didn’t say that.’

Martin turned back to the horizon. ‘Yep, I’d be willing to give this place a try.’

Frank was up early the next morning. He had the van to himself again and while it was nice to have the space, he kind of missed the other two. He bought some fresh eggs from the farm’s honesty box and made them scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast.

‘You’re really getting into this,’ said Finn.

‘I am. I wouldn’t mind doing this trip again some time.’

Finn and Martin’s jaws did a collective drop. Martin was the first to recover from the shock: ‘We could make it an annual trip.’

‘Yeah, maybe. As long as Finn was with us to save us from disaster,’ said Frank.

Martin nodded in agreement. ‘Finn’s the man.’

‘Finn is the man.’

‘Aw, you guys.’ Finn put on a phoney American accent, but if they’d been in a room, he’d have been bouncing off the ceiling right now.

Martin starting singing ‘I’m Waiting for the Man’ with a very poor impersonation of Lou Reed.

‘You know that song’s about drugs, right?’ said Frank.

‘Yeah but you know … it seemed appropriate.’

Frank shook his head. ‘As my daughter would say, it is so not appropriate. Not anymore.’

‘How is wee Robyn? I heard she was in Edinburgh now,’ said Finn.

‘She’s not so wee now. But yes, she lives there with her boyfriend. A nice fella from home.’

‘Belfast?’ said Martin.

Frank frowned. Belfast had never been Robyn’s home. It had stopped being his home over forty years ago. ‘Birmingham. I could give her your address Finn. I’m sure she’d like to look you up.’

Finn’s eyes went glossy. For a minute, it looked like he was going to cry. ‘I’d like that. Does she still look like Ellen?’

‘Even more so.’

Martin scooped up the empty breakfast plates and threw them into the washing-up bowl. ‘Her boyfriend’s a lucky man then. Ellen was a beautiful woman.’

Finn caught Frank’s eye. He looked like he was waiting for Frank to say or do something, but Frank wasn’t ready for that conversation. He steered the subject back to the trip. ‘I could drag Adrian along, if we did this again next year.’

‘Adrian? Are you still in touch with that ould reprobate?’ Martin laughed and Ellen was forgotten.

‘I see him most weeks. What about you? Do you still see Billy Mac?’ There, he’d done it. He’d asked the question that had been on his lips for days.

Martin stopped laughing. ‘Not in a long time.’

‘What about Eve?’

‘Occasionally.’

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