Page 84 of Calling Frank O'Hare

‘What was it about then?’ said Martin.

‘It doesn’t matter now.’

‘You’ll come then?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe.’

‘Please come. Eve would like it. She wants to get the boys together again to scatter Billy’s ashes. You will come, won’t you?’

‘They’re calling your flight.’

Martin picked up his bag. ‘You didn’t answer me.’

Frank gave his brother a clumsy hug. ‘Go on now. The plane’s waiting.’

He watched Martin walk to the gate and join the queue. A message pinged on his phone from Siobhan, checking all was going to plan. He tapped out a quick reply to say Martin was on the plane. When he looked up, the queue was gone. That was it then. He was on his way to Belfast. Siobhan would be meeting him at the other end, no doubt with their parents in tow in case he needed further persuasion. Poor Martin.

It came as a shock to realise it had been a long time since he’d had any sympathy for his brother. Back in those days when he made up stories to get rid of Martin’s bogeymen, he’d been fierce in love with the wee man and would have done anything to protect him. Something changed as he got older. Something that made him fall out of love with his brother. It was the teenage years to some extent, but there was more to it than that. Billy didn’t want Martin hanging around. He wanted it to be just the two of them.

Frank looked around him. His plane wasn’t due in for over an hour. He needed a distraction. Some mindless retail therapy maybe.

Frank closed his front door behind him. He was home at last. He did a quick reccy of each room, noticing someone had tidied up his records. It could only have been Netta. His canvases were just as he’d left them a week and a half ago, although it felt longer. Maybe not a lifetime, but certainly months or years. He got freshened up and changed. He didn’t have a lot of clothes but he was sick of the sight of the few he’d taken with him, and he wanted to look his best for Netta. Best for a man with a body like his anyway. There was no denying he’d let himself go, but he was determined to change now that he was new man Frank.

He unlocked Netta’s door. She was still at work but he wanted to see his doggy pal. Fred leapt up at him, whining with excitement. Betty followed suit. Maud less so. He rattled their leads. ‘Will we go walkies, dogs?’

They were soon at the park. Thankfully, there was no sign of that former pupil. Frank would have been quite new at the college then. It had been a necessary move, fitting in well with looking after Robyn. The place had been good to him. He’d be sad to leave, but it was time to let go. He’d been in denial about it before the trip but Rebel had helped him come to the decision. Rebel, the quiet man at peace with himself. Frank was not at peace with himself. That was the truth of it. He had never been at peace with himself. He just hadn’t seen it until now. It wasn’t the Troubles. They’d been hard times to live through but they hadn’t beaten him. It was Ellen. But she was dead and so was Billy. Robyn was all grown up and happy, and while he was out of shape and a bit too inclined to inaction, he wasn’t exactly ancient. Surely his time was now? Surely it was his turn to do what he wanted?

He checked his phone for messages, but there were none. They were probably too busy fussing around Martin, trying to put his life back on track. He hadn’t been to Belfast in thirteen years? He’d tried to keep going after Ellen left but the anger was too much for him. Ma and Da did their best to get him over there but eventually they stopped asking. Frank wondered if they knew the reason for the anger that even now sometimes threatened to boil over.

Fred dropped a stick at his feet. Loyal, steadfast and somewhat dopey Fred. Without thinking, he’d got himself a Timmy. ‘Last one, then we go home.’ He hurled the stick and the two dogs flew off in hot pursuit. Robyn would be back from her holidays soon. He’d go up and see her. Maybe take her over to see Finn and ask her to keep an eye on him. He tapped out a message and sent it to her:

‘Hello darling girl. I hope you’re having a great time. Give me a call when you get back xx.’

A message came back from his darling girl, just as Frank and the dogs were leaving the park.

‘Hi Dad. Will do. We’re having the best time. Everyone sends their love. Especially me.’

Frank smiled. He loved his daughter with a ferocity that was incomparable to any other emotion, and he always would. Was that normal for a father, he wondered, or was it just because of the way they’d been thrown together?

55

A fuzzy red-topped miracle – 1997

It was love at first sight. Frank held his newborn daughter in his arms, tears running down his cheeks. This tiny, mewling thing, this fuzzy red-topped miracle was his little girl and he would rather die than let anything bad happen to her.

‘Why are you crying?’ Ellen had just given birth and yet there was no emotion in her voice. She seemed genuinely puzzled.

‘Because we have a baby, and she’s wonderful.’

‘I suppose she is, but I didn’t expect you to be quite so emotional about it.’

Frank laughed. ‘Well if a man can’t get emotional when he’s welcoming his beautiful daughter into the world, when can he?’

‘I do hope you’re not going to be like this all the time, Frank. You’ll be no use whatsoever.’

He ignored the look that passed between the midwife and the nurse. ‘Can’t make any promises. She has your hair, but she has my stamp on her too. Did you notice the birthmark on her back?’

‘Yes I did. But hers is a heart shape. Yours is more like a squashed tomato.’

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