Page 97 of Calling Frank O'Hare

Frank dropped down onto the bed. Gone at last. Enormous relief flooded him and unable to hold it back any longer, he buried his face in his hands and wept.

He heard the door open and tried to bring the sobs to a halt. Robyn lifted his arm and sat under it. ‘Has she gone again?’

He wiped his eyes. ‘Yes, Baba. I don’t think she’s coming back this time.’

‘Good. I don’t want her to. I hate her.’

Frank blew his nose. ‘Hate’s a strong word, darling. Are you sure that’s how you feel?’

‘Yes. She’s horrible to you. Now that she’s gone, can my friends come round?’

‘Of course they can. Mum didn’t stop your friends from coming round, did she?’

‘She was spiteful about them. It was embarrassing.’

‘I didn’t know that. I’m so sorry, darling.’ Another sob found its way out of Frank.

Robyn squeezed her arms against him. ‘Don’t cry, Dad. I’ll look after you.’

Frank held on tight to his darling girl. ‘I know you will, Baba. And I’ll look after you, I promise.’ The first thing he’d do after Robyn went to bed was call Gavin and tell him to make it clear to Ellen not to come back. Then he’d think about divorce.

Robyn looked up at him, her eyes pleading. ‘Does this mean we can go to see Granny and Grandda at Christmas?’

‘We’ll see.’ He didn’t want to let her down after all she’d been through but before he could go over the water he’d have to admit to his parents what was really going on. The other thing he’d have to do was face Martin, and that was going to be the hardest thing, because right now all he wanted to do was batter him.

64

The scales have fallen

Frank was balanced on the edge of the sofa. His right knee was jiggling and no matter how hard he gripped it, he couldn’t make it stop. That, along with the flashing eyes and the hard, heavy breathing probably made him look like an angry old grizzly bear, but he couldn’t care less, because that’s exactly how he felt. After all those years of suppressing it, he’d finally blown. And in the heat of his rage, he’d put a voice to his suspicions and told Martin exactly what he thought had happened in the summer of 2007.

Martin paced up and down in front of him. ‘I can’t believe you’d think that of me.’

‘Well one of you feckers slept with my wife, and since she pointed the finger at you and Finn could barely stand most of the time, I’m guessing it was you.’

‘I did not sleep with Ellen, you crazy bastard.’

Frank jumped up and slapped him. ‘You did. You know you did. Admit it.’ He gave him another slap for good measure. It felt good. Not as good as beating the living daylights out of him would have felt back in 2007, but near enough.

‘Ow. Would you cut out the slapping.’

He hit Martin again.

Martin jabbed him in the chest. ‘Do that again and I’m gonna slap you back.’

Well that was an invite right there. Frank gave him another smack, even harder this time.

‘Right. You asked for it.’ Martin’s hand landed on the side of Frank’s face. It was so light, he hardly felt it.

‘You call that a slap? You big wuss.’

‘I was trying not to hurt you. Ow. You did it again! That’s it now, Frank. Gloves off. Prepare to be whacked.’

Frank was not having that. He was the injured party here. If anyone was going to be doing any whacking, it was him. He pulled up both hands and boxed Martin’s ears.

Martin jumped back in shock. A split second later he lashed out, but Frank ducked down and shouldered him in the stomach. Winded but not immobilised, Martin got Frank in an armlock. But Frank would not be bested. He grappled Martin to the ground. They rolled around the floor, arms, legs and heads tangled together. It wasn’t long before he was hot, sweaty, and out of breath but he wasn’t going to admit it so he carried on rolling, slapping and punching.

‘Frank, can we stop now. I’ve the stitch something bad,’ panted Martin.

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