Page 2 of Calling Frank O'Hare
‘Dogs?’ An incredulous laugh told Frank exactly what she thought of his responsibilities. ‘And they’re more important than your brother, are they?’
Yes they were, but he knew better than to say so. It would cause an awful fuss. ‘I’m home alone, in charge of three dogs.’
‘Three dogs? Well aren’t you the big man, so? I’ll tell Ma. She’ll be over the moon.’
‘It’s just–’
Too late. She left Frank hanging in mid-air, wondering what he would have said if he’d had the chance to finish. It’s just that Netta’s away. It’s just that I’m about to start work on something that means a lot to me. It’s just that I really don’t want to see my brother if I can help it. All of those statements were true, but he probably wouldn’t have admitted that last one to anyone, especially Siobhan.
He stared at the phone, wondering if he should call her back and explain further. No point. She’d only ridicule him. Best to get on and pretend nothing had happened. He shifted his gaze to the blank canvas. Suddenly it didn’t seem so appealing.
2
The past is never far away
Even though his heart wasn’t in it, Frank picked up his brush and began sketching an outline. What was it about his sister that always managed to wind him up? They hardly spoke these days but whenever they did, he was always left feeling both idiotic and angry. Did that make him an angry idiot? Almost certainly, from Siobhan’s point of view. His thoughts strayed to Cousin Finn. So he was in Glasgow now. No wonder Martin had turned up there. Those two were always hanging onto each other’s coat tails, and neither of them had an ounce of sense between them.
The dogs came in from the garden. His own dog, Fred, lay at Frank’s feet, as he always did when Frank was painting. Fred’s sister, Betty, flopped down in front of the French windows, leaving no option but to step over her if you wanted to go outside. Their mother, Maud, pottered into the kitchen.
Frank put down his brush. He needed a coffee. ‘Will we have a biscuit, dogs?’
Betty and Fred shot up and followed him into the kitchen. Maud was waiting by the cupboard where the biscuits were kept. Frank gave each one a pat and a biscuit, took a couple for himself, made a good strong cup of coffee, and went back to the easel.
He compared the photo he was working from with the strokes he’d already made on the canvas, satisfied he’d caught the outline correctly. It put him back in the right frame of mind and soon he was lost to everything but the paint. Not because that was the way he worked, he wasn’t one of those sort of wankers, but because he refused to let any thoughts of his bossy sister and his imbecilic brother ruin his day.
Frank’s second call of the day came as he was finishing up. Netta’s name flashed up on the screen. She was in Brighton, visiting her friend, Claire.
‘How’s it going? I hope the dogs are behaving.’
‘All good. We’ve settled into a nice cosy domesticity. Maud’s keeping us all in check.’
Her laugh tinkled down the line like fairy dust, spreading warmth and love as it passed through his ear and went straight to his heart. God, how he loved that laugh.
‘You’re not getting too lonely then?’ she said.
He glanced at the half-finished painting he’d spent the day creating. He’d managed to get a fair bit done in the end. ‘Just about coping. I’m keeping myself busy.’
‘Good. Only I might stay an extra day, if you can manage a bit longer. Doogie’s come down to see Merrie, and it’s been ages…’
Damn. He’d booked a table for tomorrow night. Just the two of them, all nice and romantic in a cosy little place in Harborne. ‘No problem. You stay. It’ll be good for you to catch up. We’re all fine here.’
‘Okay, thanks. No other news?’
‘No. All very quiet.’
‘Not too bored?’
‘Never.’
‘Good. I have to go. We’re out on the razz tonight. I’ll try to ring you later.’
Frank was on his second lap of the park with Fred and Betty. Maud had elected to stay at home. She knew her own mind, that one. His stomach rumbled. It was too late to cook now. He’d stop off for fish and chips on the way home. He should have taken the healthy option and made dinner before the walk, but it was too much effort when it was just him. Although that never stopped him before he met Netta. He was a dab hand at meals for one back then, and he’d fully intended to cook for himself tonight. It was just that he’d been put off.
It was the lying, for one thing. Okay, so it wasn’t a big lie but still, he didn’t know why he’d said there was no news when clearly there was. His fool of a brother had upped and left his wife. Presumably. Siobhan didn’t say he’d left the wife behind, but the clue was in the word “missing”. And if Cousin Finn was to be relied upon, which was something of an imagination leap, Martin was on this side of the water. A bit too close to home for Frank’s liking, and even closer to Robyn’s home. Luckily, Robyn had just gone on holiday.
Then there was the old boyfriend, Doogie, to be thinking about. Old boyfriend to both Netta and Claire, mind you, albeit not at the same time. Jesus, the man had even impregnated them both. Sadly, Netta had lost her baby, but Claire’s daughter, Merrie, was twenty now. Amazingly, the three of them were still really tight. He couldn’t understand how Doogie had pulled that one off.
Frank had yet to work out how he felt about Doogie. He was almost certain he wasn’t jealous, but if he had to pinpoint his feelings, it would probably boil down to curious but uneasy. There was some part of him that wanted to know more about the man that everybody seemed to love, come what may, but uneasiness always held him back. A Pandora’s box kind of uneasiness. Consequently, he’d resisted meeting the guy. Perhaps when they did finally meet, they’d get along just grand and all this unease would disappear. Then again, perhaps he was just kidding himself.