Page 63 of Calling Frank O'Hare

‘How long are we supposed to stay in here?’ howled Martin.

‘Just until you can’t take it any longer,’ said Frank.

Martin got out first, then Finn. Much to Frank’s delight, he lasted the longest. ‘I am the champion,’ he roared.

‘Okay, you win. Must be all that blubber. You’re like a fucking beached whale,’ said Martin. But nothing could take away Frank’s pride.

‘Remember when we used to go to Ballycastle in the summer holidays? I’m sure the water was just as cold then. How did we not get hypothermia when we were kids?’ said Martin.

‘I miss those holidays when we were wee, don’t you?’ said Finn. ‘Long days on the beach. Just the three of us and Siobhan.’

41

Frank goes all “can do”

Siobhan looked at the photos Frank had sent to her yesterday. Why he thought she’d be interested in pictures of a fecking beach was anybody’s guess. But that was her brother. Always in his own little headspace. People could be falling apart around him and Frank would keep soldiering on in his own little universe. Actually, that was in poor taste now that she thought about it. It was true though.

By her reckoning they were on day five of their littleBoy’s Ownadventure. In two more days, Martin would be on the plane home and Ma would have someone else to harangue. Perhaps she should book the ticket. That way he couldn’t get out of it.

It was five-thirty. Ma called at exactly five-forty every day. She stayed on the phone for ten minutes, tops. That left just enough time for her to make a pot of tea and settle down ready for the six o’clock news. The six o’clock news was sacrosanct as far as the parents were concerned. Siobhan provided the family news update. The six o’clock news provided everything else. It was like a religious thing for them. They didn’t go to church more than once or twice a decade, but they never missed that news programme. Before Martin’s so-called disappearance, Ma wanted to know all about what was going on with Siobhan and the kids. Not anymore. These days it was all about Martin.

She checked the time. Another seven minutes to go. She had stuff to do tonight. Lots of stuff. She was going on a date with some fella off a dating site and she needed to prepare. Every minute counted. Siobhan seized the initiative and called Ma.

‘What are you doing calling me at this time? Has something happened?’ Ma wasn’t used to having the initiative seized from her.

‘Nothing’s happened. I have to go out, so I thought I’d call you a few minutes early.’

‘Where are you going at this time of night?’

‘Ma, it’s twenty to six.’

‘Exactly.’

‘I’m going for a cervical smear test.’

‘Oh.’ That shut her up. If there was one thing Ma hated talking about it was medical things, especially medical things that involved down below. ‘Have you any news?’

‘Not really. Frank sent me some pictures of a beach. Looks like they’re having a good time. I’m still waiting on him calling me.’

Ma tutted. ‘I spoke to poor Bronagh again. When I get my hands on Martin I’ll wring his neck, so I will.’

Ma would have to stand on a table to reach Martin’s neck but Siobhan wouldn’t put it past her. Not with the mood she was in, now that she’d heard the full story. There were some things even Ma couldn’t turn a blind eye to.

Her phone started to vibrate. ‘Ma, it’s Frank. I better go. He’s got this crappy ould phone that keeps losing the signal. I might not get another chance. I’ll call you back.’

‘Wait until after the ne–’

Siobhan cut the call before Ma had a chance to finish her instruction and picked up on Frank. ‘Thanks for the pictures of the beach. I’m thrilled to hear you’re having a great time.’

‘I knew you’d appreciate them,’ said Frank, back with the sarcasm again. ‘You’ve spoken to Bronagh then?’

‘I have and yes, she did throw him out.’

‘Did she say why?’

‘Where do you want me to start? There were so many reasons, we got through two bottles of wine and she was still going. But I think I can boil it down to two definitive complaints. To start with, he’s been in a foul mood for about six months non-stop.’

‘Ah come on, nobody can be in a foul mood for six months non-stop.’

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