Page 54 of Calling Frank O'Hare

After yet another unsuccessful attempt to get hold of Frank, Siobhan tapped out a message to let him know she’d talked to Bronagh about their wayward brother. Although talked was putting it mildly. Yes, there had been some talking, along with some crying and a hell of a lot of drinking. It was a good job Martin was in another country, because if he wasn’t, he’d be screaming for Ma to come and protect him, absolute shite that he was. And no doubt Ma would come to his rescue. She was always soft on him. Maybe one day, Siobhan would tell her that. Maybe one day she’d say: ‘Look where all that softness got him. Look where it’s got us, running around after him like he was still a helpless kid.’ But no. She wouldn’t say any such thing. Ma already knew she was guilty of turning the odd blind eye when it came to Martin. Why else would she have them all making such an effort to save his marriage? The woman was covering her tracks.

Bronagh was the other reason too, of course. Ma knew, as much as any of them, that it was Bronagh who kept Martin grounded. But that was only the half of it. The parents were always going on about how Martin had done so well with his business, but that was all down to Bronagh. If it wasn’t for her, Da would still be looking for favours from old friends to give Martin another job to screw up. Bronagh had saved Martin, and she’d also saved them all a lot of stress. No wonder Martin had run for the hills when she dumped him. No wonder Ma was half mad with worry. That’s where softness gets you, Ma. In the end, it bites back.

She stretched out on the sofa and rubbed her sick stomach. She felt ill. More than ill. Wrecked was what she was. Absolutely wrecked. There was a time when she and Bronagh could down a few bottles of wine, dance the night away and still get up early next morning to take the kids to football, ballet practice or whatever the fuck it was they had on. Happy days. Happy, happy days. She’d kill for those days again.

It was late. She should go to bed, but she had papers to read for work and no appetite to read them.

Her phone went. She snatched it up quick in case it was Frank. It wasn’t. It was a name and number she hadn’t seen in a few years. What could he want?

‘Hello, is that Siobhan?’

‘Adrian? It’s been a while.’ She tried to remember the last time they’d spoken. Probably five or six years ago. After Ellen died, they’d had quite a few secret calls about Frank.

‘Yeah. I kept your number from when you used to ring me before. In case of emergencies. I hope you don’t mind.’

‘Not at all. Is there an emergency?’

‘I don’t know really. I feel a bit daft calling, all panicky like, but it’s Frank. Did you know he’s gone to see Martin and Finn?’

Adrian in a panic? She couldn’t imagine it. He was so laid back, he was practically horizontal. ‘In Scotland, yes. We sent him there. Martin’s run off. Frank’s gone to get him back.’

‘So I heard. So Frank’s okay with it, is he?’

‘Not exactly okay, but needs must.’

‘It’s just that I only found out about it today from Netta. I thought he might have let me know he was going.’

‘Netta? You know Netta? How well?’

‘Well enough.’

‘What’s she like?’

‘Great.’

Great? What kind of an answer was that? Typical man. ‘Great can mean anything, Adrian.’

‘Okay. She’s lovely.’

‘Lovely as in not like Ellen?’

‘Nothing like Ellen.’ She could tell he was smiling. Adrian had the kind of voice that reflected exactly what was going on with his mouth. ‘Netta’s just what he needed. She’s brought him out of himself. You’d like her. You’d get on well.’

‘Would we now? I think I’ll be the judge of that.’

He laughed. ‘Same old Siobhan. You should relax and let go a bit, you know. The world won’t end tomorrow if you do.’

And he was the same old Adrian. Siobhan felt herself soften. ‘Less of the old, Mister. And don’t be so bloody cheeky. I’m relaxed as fuck.’

‘Yeah, I bet. So he’s all right then, Frank? I don’t have to do an emergency dash up north with a defibrillator and a therapist?’

‘I think you’re good there, but it’s nice that you care.’

‘Well you know, we’d be a man down in the darts team if he croaked it. He’s a bit crap at darts to be honest but he makes up the numbers. And what about you, are you all right?’

Inexplicably, Siobhan’s bottom lip began to tremble. ‘Oh I’m fine. You know me. Bulletproof.’

‘You sure? You’re not letting things get on top of you, are you?’

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