Page 103 of Calling Frank O'Hare

Her housemate answered the door but Rob wasn’t far behind: she’d heard him asking for her. ‘What is it?’

‘It’s Ellen.’

Rob’s hand shot to her throat. ‘She’s dead, isn’t she?’

Frank flew in to Charles de Gaulle airport. Robyn was coming in separately from Edinburgh in a few days. There were things he needed to do before that, papers to sign, that sort of thing, because he was still Ellen’s next of kin.

Gavin had organised the funeral which would be in Saint-Germain-en-Laye, a small town about an hour away from Paris. Ellen had lived there for years. A few months ago, she’d been in a French restaurant in Birmingham with Frank, very much alive, when she’d told him all about Saint-Germain-en-Laye and how she’d found contentment there. He’d taken that to be a sign that she was ready to give him up. He hadn’t realised at the time she was ready to give everything else up too.

Two days after his dash to Edinburgh, he’d received a letter from Ellen. There were actually two letters inside. One for him and one for Robyn. His was short, typical Ellen. She said she loved him and asked for his forgiveness for what she was about to do.

Frank had gone back up to Edinburgh to deliver Robyn’s letter personally. Rob had read it and shown it to him. It was pages long and talked mostly about the future. Ellen had left a lifetime of love and advice in that letter. All the things she hadn’t been able to do when she was alive.

‘Do you think if I’d been nicer to her, she’d still be alive?’ said Robyn.

Frank put his arm around her. ‘No, Baba, I don’t. This had nothing to do with you. Ellen understood why you didn’t trust her. For what it’s worth, she didn’t trust herself either. I think she’d planned it before she came back. She just came home to make peace with us.’

Gavin was waiting for him in arrivals. He looked tired and much less polished than usual. He met Frank with a grim nod. ‘How’s Robyn?’

‘Hard to say. She seems okay. I don’t think she ever felt close to Ellen.’

‘Sadly, I think you’re right. I’ve put you up in a hotel near our apartment. It’s not far from Ellen’s house. I would have you stay with us, but Mother’s there. I thought you’d prefer the distance.’

‘Yes, that would be best. You’re not staying in Ellen’s house then?’

Gavin shook his head. ‘There are complications in that regard. I’ll explain later.’

It must be old lady Montague. It must be too upsetting for her to be near Ellen’s things, thought Frank. ‘How’s your mother doing?’

Gavin gave him a faint smile. ‘Mother has always had what Roger likes to call attachment issues. I have no idea what’s going on underneath the bonnet but on the surface, she is as she always is.’

Poor Gavin. Poor, poor Ellen. Frank was so glad he had a mother like his own. She might have been hard on him as a kid, she might be a huge pain in the arse sometimes, but he was in no doubt she loved him.

They got into Gavin’s car. Gavin didn’t switch the engine on straight away. ‘I hope you didn’t mind about the funeral. As her executor, I have to make sure I carry out her final instructions.’

He put his hand on Gavin’s arm. ‘I know. It’s fine. She loved this place. She had everything she wanted here.’

Gavin sighed. ‘Perhaps not quite everything. You did your best, Frank. No one could have asked you to do more.’

‘Thank you.’ Frank knew that, but it was good of him to say it.

‘She seemed so happy over Christmas. I’d thought she’d found some comfort at last.’

‘I think she had. She was the happiest and most content I’ve ever known her to be. Perhaps that was enough.’

Gavin smiled another faint smile. ‘Leaving on a high.’

‘Exactly.’

‘Frank, there’s something I have to tell you. Ellen was living with someone here. A chap called Benoit. From what I can make out, they’d had something of an on-off relationship until the last time she left you and she moved to France permanently.’

Ah. So those were the complications. ‘You didn’t know?’

He grimaced. ‘I knew about him. I didn’t know it was as serious as it was. Benoit was the one who found her. He’s taken it rather badly, as you can imagine.’

‘Can I meet him?’

‘I was hoping you’d say that. Better to get it over with before the funeral.’

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