Page 81 of Calling Frank O'Hare

‘What? Kill me? You haven’t got the guts. You’ve always been soft. Don’t you be worrying yourself about Eve. I wouldn’t lay a hand on her. But I’ll tell you what, FB. If you go near her again, I’ll have you gone just like that.’ He snapped his fingers. ‘I know people. You know what I’m saying? I could make you disappear, and not even your da would know where to find you.’

To Frank’s relief, the Head came out of the building. ‘We’ve called the police. They’re on their way.’

‘And there was me just gonna knock his head off.’ Billy turned to leave. ‘I’m not done with you yet, Frank. Keep looking over your shoulder. Because one day, I’ll be behind you.’

Frank had been given the rest of the week off. He’d managed to persuade the Head not to pursue things any further, but they’d both agreed it was a good thing he was moving on. He lay on the sofa, bruised and tender but otherwise still intact.

Eve had called him earlier to say it was over between them. ‘We can’t do this anymore. It’s killing Billy.’

If anyone was close to being killed it was Frank, not Billy. He hadn’t told her that, but he had asked how Billy had found out. Eve said Ellen had told him. It hadn’t come as a surprise.

Ellen let herself in. Gavin had phoned to warn him she was on her way, so Frank was expecting her. She sat down in an armchair. ‘Well you look dreadful.’

‘Thanks. It turns out Billy’s quite handy with the baseball bat.’

‘Oh. I’m sorry about that, but he had a right to know.’

‘Well he knows now, so good job you.’

‘Aren’t you going to ask me why I came back early?’

He shook his head. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to hear it. He’d waited for her to come just so he could tell her to her face how much he hated her. Because right now, that was exactly how he felt. Once he’d adored her, worshipped her even. But she’d beaten anything resembling love out of him and now he loathed her. His bags were packed. He was going to tell her exactly that and then he was leaving.

‘I wanted to give you some news personally. I’m pregnant.’

Frank’s need for vengeance came to an abrupt halt. Had she just said she was pregnant? ‘But you’re on the pill.’

‘I haven’t bothered for a while. It didn’t seem necessary as we weren’t doing anything. It was that night in Paris.’

‘I got that job. I’m moving back to Birmingham.’ It was a stupid response, but it was the shock. They were having a baby. What the hell was he going to do now?

52

You’ve still got me

When Martin was a kid he used to have nightmares about men doing bad things to him. Sometimes those men were the soldiers. Sometimes they were the Balaclavas. When it happened, he’d come into Frank’s bed and cling to him until a peaceful sleep claimed him. Frank had forgotten that until now, forgotten how he used to soothe his wee brother to sleep with tales of big adventures they’d have together when they were older. They’d go over the water and catch criminals, just like the Famous Five. Or go the other way, to America, and be like the Hardy Boys. Always one for the reading, Frank had been very into those sort of books at the time. Martin’s main concern was whether their adventures came with a four-legged friend. ‘And will we have a dog like Timmy, Frank?’ he’d say. It always seemed to be important to him.

‘We will.’

‘What would he be like, Frank?’

‘Big. With lots of hair. A bit dopey, but loyal and steadfast.’ The reply was always the same, because that was what Martin wanted to hear. Funny. He could have been describing Fred, the dog he finally did get. Perhaps that’s why he and Fred clicked. It was destiny.

From behind him, Martin sniffed. They were sharing the bed in the campervan. Finn had suggested it, although he had sensibly opted for the tent.

‘Do you remember how you used to come into my bed after a bad dream, Marty?’ said Frank.

Another sniff. ‘Aye. We’d make up stories until I fell asleep.’

Not quite how Frank remembered Martin’s input, but it wasn’t the time to split hairs. Although, now that he thought about it, it was Martin who came up with the name Balaclavas in the first place. ‘Do you remember how you’d always ask for a dog?’

‘I do. I was mad for dogs. I thought I’d have a dozen of them when I grew up.’

‘I have one. His name’s Fred.’

‘No. Really? What’s he like Frank?’

‘Big. With lots of hair. A bit dopey, but loyal and steadfast.’

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