Page 73 of Calling Frank O'Hare

Frank didn’t answer. He figured Finn probably didn’t want to know how bad he thought Martin was.

‘I wonder if he’s okay,’ said Finn.

Again, Frank didn’t answer.

‘I’ll go look for him. It’ll be dark soon. It’s easy to get lost when you’re not used to it.’ He gave Frank a pointed look.

It took him a while to catch Finn’s drift. He was, of course, referring to Frank’s own storming off, when Martin had rescued him and for a short while, they sat together like proper brothers. He should help find him. Martin was infuriating, but he was his brother. Besides, Ma and Siobhan would be incandescent with rage if anything happened to him. ‘You’re right. Let’s go and find the dozy prick.’

It didn’t actually take them very long to find him. Once they followed his path for a few hundred metres, they practically fell over him. He was sitting near a lochan watching the sun go down. ‘It’s so tranquil. It gets you right here, doesn’t it?’ He punched his heart.

‘Aye, it does,’ said Finn. ‘Sometimes it’s all you need.’

‘I know you don’t think much of me, Frank but I have never cheated on Bronagh. The other two, yes, but never Bronagh,’ said Martin.

‘You need to go back home and tell her that. You can’t just run away, Marty,’ said Finn.

‘I will.’

‘Siobhan’s booked your plane ticket for the day after tomorrow,’ said Frank.

‘So soon.’ Martin looked defeated.

Finn put his hand on Martin’s shoulder. ‘They’re all worried about you, Marty. They want to help you.’

‘They don’t need to worry about me.’

‘Bronagh might think otherwise,’ said Frank, sounding more sympathetic than he actually felt. ‘Even if she’s wrong about you and Eve, she can’t have been wrong about the moods.’

Martin put his head in his heads. ‘She is wrong about me and Eve. It’s true I’ve been seeing her, but not in that way. She came to me to help fix up her parents’ house. Her ould fella’s moved into a care home.’

‘There you go then,’ said Finn. ‘That explains it.’

‘And she needed someone to talk to. A shoulder to cry on. That’s it. We’re friends. And none of that friends with benefits shit either. Proper friends.’

‘Has she left Billy then?’ said Frank.

Martin shook his head. ‘Billy’s dead.’

Frank’s mouth dropped open. Billy, dead?

‘Not Billy?’ Finn’s voice cracked. ‘How?’

Martin sniffed. Great tears ran down his face and dropped onto his hands. ‘He killed himself. Eight months ago.’

Frank’s stomach twisted. He staggered up and ran for the water. It twisted again and this time, he threw up. Still reeling, he stumbled on. Everything was swirling and bending out of shape and he thought he was going to black out. He sank to his knees. Billy Mac was gone. He was dead. How could that be?

47

Who told you?

Darkness was taking hold of the day and they were yet to make a move. Martin was still weeping. Frank was in shock. Both were paralysed. Frank, on hearing those words. Martin, on saying them out loud.

‘We have to go back to the van. Get up and follow me.’ Finn spoke with the calm authority they needed to jolt them into action. They did as he said and he led them through the heavy mist that had begun to surround and settle on them. All was quiet, save for the occasional call of a wild animal and the sound of Martin’s sobs.

When they reached the van, Finn made them sit down. He wrapped a blanket around each of them, lit a fire and poured them whisky. Finn, the one-time waster, was saving them from themselves. He’d come good again.

The flames crackled, Martin wept on, and no one said anything. The fire began to die. Finn rebuilt it, refilled their glasses and Martin’s tears finally dried up.

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