Page 70 of Calling Frank O'Hare

‘Let’s go to that Chinese you like. I can get home easily from there,’ said Eve.

They took the Victoria line from Euston and then the overground. As they approached Dalston, she said: ‘I’m shattered. Why don’t we go back to mine instead? There’s a decent takeaway up the road and I’ve beers in the fridge.’

What was she suggesting? Her eyes lingered on him again and straight away he knew exactly what she was suggesting. ‘Is that a good idea?’

‘I think so. Don’t you?’

A memory of Billy telling him to embrace the danger burned into him. Billy, the top dog. Billy, the best mate who thought he’d been a grass. Billy, the guy who stole his girl. ‘Yes, I do.’

45

Hello, my love – 1992

Frank was an adulterer. Or was he? If your wife had already left you, were you still classed as an adulterer? He didn’t know. If you were having an affair with your oldest friend’s wife, were you a dirty, lying, cheating bastard? That was a question he did know the answer to. Yes he was. How had it come to this? How had he stooped so low? More questions he couldn’t answer.

Ellen’s continued absence and Billy’s frequent trips to America made it easy for him and Eve to have their illicit meet ups. The hard part was behaving as if nothing was going on when Billy was around. It was almost impossible not to steal a kiss when they thought they might get away with it. Even when they were trying to behave normally, the slightest touch, deliberate or otherwise, would set Frank’s pulse racing. They daren’t even look at each other, in case the wrong kind of glance gave away their secret. It was immoral, so very wrong. Frank appalled himself. And yet he couldn’t walk away.

Back in Belfast, when Eve had been his girlfriend, he’d spent a lot of time imagining what sex with her would be like. It turned out his imagination was way off. Sex with Eve was sometimes glorious and abandoned and other times, tender and loving. Crucially, it was nothing like it was with Ellen. Most of the time with Ellen, he was putting in a performance that she was in control of. But with Eve, it was just two people enjoying each other and doing whatever they pleased. It was liberating, and unusually comfortable.

He’d given up on Ellen returning now. It was almost a year to the day he’d come home and found her gone. He’d been desperate to have her back, even after the beginning of his affair with Eve. But lately, he was starting to consider the possibility of a permanent life without her and whether that life might include Eve. Tonight he was going to bring the subject up. They were at his flat. The evening had started well with an hour in bed. Now, Eve was in the shower and he was cooking dinner. The table was set for a romantic meal for two and Frank was mentally rehearsing his speech.

Eve walked in wearing Ellen’s turquoise silk robe. He tried not to think about the last time he’d seen Ellen wearing it. She snuggled up against the back of him. ‘It’s nice, you cooking for me. I’m not used to it.’ She hardly ever mentioned Billy by name when they were together these days, just as Ellen rarely dropped from Frank’s lips. It wasn’t a pre-agreed rule but they did it all the same.

The intercom buzzed and mild panic invaded their domestic bliss. ‘Ignore it. Probably just someone got locked out,’ he said.

It buzzed again.

Eve was on her way to the bedroom. ‘I’ll get dressed. Just in case.’

He pressed the intercom button. ‘Hello.’

‘It’s Gavin. Let me in. I have news.’

Frank closed the dining room door before he let Gavin in.

Gavin breezed straight past him, grumbling about the lack of parking and only stopped when he saw Eve. ‘Ah. Gavin Montague. I don’t believe we’ve met.’

Eve shook his hand, very businesslike. It was a side of her that Frank hadn’t seen before. ‘Eve Macintyre. You might know my husband, Billy. Frank’s an old friend to both of us.’

‘I think I’ve heard the name, but I’m not familiar. Apologies.’

‘Well, if you stick around you might meet him,’ she said, cool as a cucumber.

‘Alas, I can’t.’

‘Are you sure, Gavin? There’s enough food to go round. I even have decent wine,’ said Frank, putting on a good show of pretending his presence was welcome.

‘Thank you, no. Roger’s waiting in the car.’

‘Roger?’

‘My lodger.’

Frank’s face contorted into an enormous smirk.

Gavin arched an eyebrow. ‘What?’

‘Your lodger is called Roger?’

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