Page 56 of Calling Frank O'Hare

Outside, Gavin buzzed the intercom. He was here to pick Ellen up. She was staying at his tonight. They carried her bags out to meet him. Gavin made some joke about how much she was bringing with her then turned to Frank and said: ‘It’s not too late to run for the hills you know.’

Frank laughed to give the impression he found it funny. He liked Gavin but his constant attempts to get Frank “off the hook” were beginning to grate. At the stag night, even Adrian who was really easy going had had enough. He’d taken Gavin off to a quiet corner and had a word. Frank didn’t ask what the word was. It was enough that Gavin got the message. And yet here he was again, with the same tired old joke.

Ellen opened the passenger door. ‘Shut up, Gavin. You’ll give him ideas.’ She was smiling, but then she walked back to Frank. ‘You will be there, won’t you? You won’t leave me.’

He let out another laugh, then realised she wasn’t joking.

‘Say it, Frank. Say you won’t leave me.’

‘Of course I won’t leave you. I’ll be there.’

She threw her arms around him. ‘I love you so much. You’re my anchor. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Whatever happens with us, I want you to remember that.’

Frank waited, confused and mildly turned on, while she got in the car. Gavin closed the door behind her and mouthed: ‘Last chance’ at him.

He mouthed: ‘Fuck off’ in return.

Ironically, it was Frank who thought he was going to be left at the altar in the end. Ellen was more than fashionably late. She was so late, the registrar was beginning to look at his watch. Then, just as Frank was about to give up, she made her entrance. Her white dress looked medieval with its long pointed sleeves and gold braiding. Her only other adornment was a simple floral wreath in her hair which hung loosely down to her waist. The Lady of Shalott had come to life. There was a collective intake of breath as everyone took in the radiance of her. She walked past them all, their faces awestruck, then she turned her huge grey-gold eyes on Frank. She was ethereal. She was exquisite. She was also high as a kite.

Amazingly, they got through the ceremony without incident. How Ellen had been able to speak her lines, let alone remember them, was a mystery, but she did. As they stood outside the register office posing for photographs he leaned in and whispered: ‘What have you taken?’

‘Just something to calm my nerves. I’ve still got some if you want it.’

‘No, I do not want it. My parents are here.’

‘When you’re ready,’ said the photographer. He was a friend of Ellen’s, a fashion photographer who was doing her a favour. ‘Look into each other’s eyes. You’ve just got married for Christ’s sake. Let’s have some romance.’

Ellen was the life and soul of the wedding party, and why wouldn’t she be? Her performance was enhanced. Frank had to rely on his natural charm and charisma to get him through, and it was currently in short supply.

Somebody whose charm and charisma was even more sparse was Siobhan. She was never one for a happy disposition but for once, she had reason to be pissed off. She was heavily pregnant, too tired to move, and couldn’t have a drink. Whereas Dermot, her husband, had no such constraints. He was having a great go at drinking the bar dry and dancing with as many beautiful girls as would accept him.

Frank sat down next to her. He felt unusually sorry for her but also, it was a good place to watch Ellen and Martin who were dancing together. He still didn’t trust Martin. ‘How are yer, Siobhan?’

Siobhan yawned. ‘Tired, bored and fat, since you ask. Where’s Billy Mac? After the fuss you made at my wedding, I thought he’d be the guest of honour.’

‘We’ve lost touch.’

‘Really? I heard they were living here now.’

‘England?’

‘London. So, you’ve fallen on your feet here. She must be worth a few bob. That brother of hers sounds like he’s got a gob full of plums.’ Trust Siobhan to notice the money. And trust her to mention it.

‘I’ve told her to keep it to herself.’

‘Oh I see. So it’s your money’s paying for that fancy flat, is it? Jeez, the dole’s a good craic over here, so it is.’

‘Obviously, I’ve had to make some compromises on that. Until I get a job.’

Siobhan snorted. ‘Good for you. Glad to see you’re sticking to your principles there, Francis.’

‘And how’s married life working out for you, Siobhan?’

That wiped the smile of her face. ‘Pretty shite actually. But at least my husband’s not a drug addict.’

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Probably not. My experience is pretty limited. Help me up, I’m away to my bed.’ She nodded at Dermot. ‘And when that twat’s finished making a fool of himself, tell him I’m locking the door at twelve on the dot.’

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