Page 83 of Calling Frank O'Hare

Her mum and dad had been keen to hear all about Frank’s trip, and Netta had dredged her memory banks for information she’d gleaned from Frank in an effort to give them as much detail as possible. That was when she realised just how scant the information was. The calls had been few and far between. He’d sent messages and photos too but even when pieced together, they didn’t add up to a fat lot. For an English teacher, Frank was extremely brief with his prose. Not that she was expecting a travelogue or anything, but it would have been nice to have had a little more material to work with. And if she was being really picky, a little more honesty wouldn’t go amiss.

It had been a funny week. With the kids off doing their own things, she’d started it thinking she was going to be spending a quiet week with Frank. In her mind’s eye, she’d have been coming home from work, or the foodbank where she volunteered, to romantic meals lovingly prepared by her man. They’d have shared a bottle of wine and talked about their day. They might even have had sex. She’d been looking forward to it. Although, she reminded herself, not enough to return from Brighton when she was supposed to.

When she’d gone to Claire’s, Netta had known Doogie might be there too. As usual with Doogie, there was a will he-won’t he element involved. Although, to be fair, this time it was because he was helping Grace with the lambing season. Quite a change from the excuses he used back when they were a couple.

She’d like to think it was the lack of certainty that had stopped her mentioning Doogie’s possible visit to Frank beforehand. But while she was thinking about honesty, she might as well be honest with herself. It was because she felt a bit uneasy talking to Frank about Doogie. In the present tense anyway. When it came to conversations about Doogie in her past, Frank was there all the way with her. When she mentioned him in the here and now, Frank made the right noises, but there was something in the way his body tensed slightly that gave away his true feelings. Not jealousy. Frank wasn’t like that. Vulnerability. That was it. Netta sensed vulnerability. So she didn’t say anything to him, and when Doogie did actually turn up, she pretended it was a surprise. She hadn’t exactly lied, just skewed the truth a little.

To her shame, not only had she stretched the facts, she’d also decided to stay on for an extra day, and the reason for that was probably the hardest shame to deal with. It was because she still got a thrill from being with the man who had been her first love. They were great friends now and that was all, but you never really lost that buzz when you loved someone intensely, did you? And so she’d weighed up one more day with Doogie against an extra one with Frank, and Doogie won. It had been an easy choice because things had got a bit too comfortable of late. She liked comfortable. She liked that she didn’t have to be anything other than herself with Frank. But there was a fine line between comfortable and boring, and lately she’d begun to wonder if they weren’t a little too – dare she say it – boring. Besides, she’d been expecting to spend the rest of the week with Frank. Unfortunately, Frank had raced off to Scotland, leaving her alone in the middle of England with her guilt and regrets. More fool her. That would teach her to go for the cheap thrill. And anyway, Frank didn’t seem quite so boring now.

She listened to the message he’d left her while she’d been driving home: ‘Just letting you know we’re back in Glasgow. We’ll be putting Martin on the plane home tomorrow, and I’ll get one a bit later. I’ll be back in the afternoon.’

Back in the afternoon? All was not lost then. There was still time for a little relationship jazzing up and for easing her guilty conscience. She replayed the message. She loved to hear his voice, and if she wasn’t mistaken, his accent was stronger than normal. It was actually quite sexy. Being with his family must have brought it out. Tomorrow suddenly seemed a long way off and she longed to hear him say something other than I’ll be back in the afternoon.

He answered after a few rings. ‘Hello, gorgeous woman.’

Yes that was the kind of thing she wanted to hear. ‘Hello. I was driving when you called. I thought I’d try you.’

‘I’m glad you did. It’s so good to hear your voice. I’ve missed it. I’ve missed you.’

‘I’ve missed you too, Frank. I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.’ The word ‘boring’ popped into her head, bizarrely in a weird American accent. ‘Sorry, I appear to have turned into Miss Jean Brodie. What I meant to say was, I can’t wait to see you tomorrow. No one else is here so it’ll be just the two of us. I may even buy some frilly knickers.’

‘Wow! Now there’s a treat I’ll be holding you to. Hang on a minute. I’m just committing to memory an image of you in nothing but frilly knickers. It might just keep me going until tomorrow.’

‘You naughty man. How has your trip been anyway?’

‘Eventful.’

‘Good eventful or bad eventful?’

‘Haven’t worked that out yet. I’ll tell you more about it tomorrow. There are some things I’d like to share with you.’

‘Should I be worried?’

‘No, it’s nothing like that. Honestly, it’s … oh the taxi’s here. We’re going out for a meal and a quiet drink. All very grown-up. Finn’s orders. Sorry about the Adrian thing, by the way. I thought I mentioned we were old uni friends. Stupid of me. Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow. Looking forward to those knickers.’

Netta sat in the breakfast room with a cottage pie for one that her mother had insisted on making for her, musing on what Frank might want to talk about. Had something happened on the trip that had triggered this need to share, or could it be about them? He could have been doing some thinking of his own and decided he was bored too. She momentarily entertained the idea that Frank was going cold on their relationship, then dismissed it as rubbish.

It could just be that he was going to tell her he went to the place where Doogie lived. She’d recognised the photos he’d sent her. She had some very similar ones on her phone from the time she’d been up that way. But just to be sure, she’d called Doogie. She hadn’t asked him directly, instead choosing to amble around gathering this fact and that until her loose questioning led to one conclusion. Yes, there had been three Irishmen staying at Grace’s campsite at around that time. Doogie had seen one of them painting on the beach. They’d even spoken.

Netta could understand why they’d want to go there. The place was stunning. What she couldn’t understand was why Frank was hiding it. Perhaps she’d find out when he did his sharing. In the meantime, she had to work out where she was going to get some frilly knickers from before tomorrow afternoon.

54

Home at last

The Mini would have been too tight a squeeze, so Finn took them to the airport in the campervan. It was a fitting end to their trip.

Frank and Martin left it as long as they could to go through to departures. Finn gave them each a manly hug. ‘We should definitely do this again next year. With better planning and less drama.’

‘Agreed,’ said Frank. Despite his keenness to get home, a sense of loss was already creeping over him.

‘I’m up for it. Sorry again for stealing your van there, Finn,’ said Martin.

‘That’s okay. You take care of yourself, big fella. I’ll be in touch with both of youse.’

‘Will you come back over, now that Billy’s dead?’ said Martin, after they’d gone through.

‘I’ll see. It was never about Billy.’ Well maybe part of it was about Billy, or at least the worry that his contacts had more chance of doing away with him on their home turf. Although, Billy had never actually said where his so-called contacts were, and Frank was beginning to question whether they ever actually existed.

---