Page 4 of Calling Frank O'Hare

Frank worked on. Next came fire red, slicing through the deep azure lines at the bottom of the canvas. Bit by bit, he built them up, until they met the golden yellow and merged into a delicious blood red orange. He could almost taste it, that moment, that place. He’d go up there one day and see that sunset himself. For sure. One day.

His headache was lifting now. As he’d guessed, working had helped. He was going to be all right. Netta would be home tomorrow and they’d have some time together before the rest of her family returned from their trips. His brother would turn up in Belfast, all apologetic, and everyone would just shake their heads and say: ‘That Martin. What is he like?’ Everything would be back to normal and he’d be comfortable again. That was all he wanted.

The shrill ring of his phone startled him. He hoped it was Netta. A glance at the screen told him it wasn’t. ‘Feck.’ He could just ignore it. No, she’d only keep calling. Frank put down his brush. ‘Siobhan.’

‘Frank.’

‘Here we are again.’

‘We are. He’s at Cousin Finn’s.’ At least she didn’t mention last night’s messages. That was something to be grateful for.

‘I take it you mean Martin? So everything’s in hand then. Finn’s taking care of him. Nothing to worry about.’

A hysterical giggle flew down the line and almost shattered his eardrums. ‘In hand. Are you mad? In what universe would Finn taking care of Martin mean everything was in hand? Hang on. Ma wants a word.’

Frank put his hand over his eyes. His headache was back. Not Ma as well.

‘Hello Francis. Is that yourself?’

‘It is, Ma. How are yer?’

‘How do you think I am? I’m sick with worry.’

‘Ma, he’s nearly sixty. He can look after himself.’

‘Oh Francis. If only I had your faith. Now listen, son. Could you not do me, your mother, this one favour and get your brother home before he goes completely off the rails?’

‘It’s not that simple, Ma. Netta’s away. I’m looking after her dogs and mine. And I have a lot of work on.’

‘Netta. I take it that’s his new life-partner?’ shouted Siobhan in the background.

‘Actually, we’ve been together a few years, so she’s not that new,’ said Frank, defensively.

‘That’s nice,’ said Ma. ‘I’m glad you’ve someone else at last. After all that Ellen business. When is she back?’

‘Not sure. Tomorrow maybe.’ He winced at his falseness and wondered whether Ma could tell he was lying.

‘Oh good. I’ll hand you back over to Siobhan and she’ll give you Finn’s number. You can go and get your brother when Venetta gets home. God willing, he won’t have killed himself by then.’

‘Netta, Ma. Her name’s Netta.’

‘Netta. Foreign, is she?’

‘She’s English.’

‘That’s what I said. Maybe I’ll be fortunate enough to meet her before I die.’

Frank sighed. There was that feeling again. Something catastrophic was on its way.

4

A cup half empty

‘All sorted, Siobhan. Francis will be going up to Scotland tomorrow,’ said Ma, obviously not realising that the phone was turned up so loud, Siobhan would have been able to ascertain that fact if she’d been halfway up the road instead of a few feet away. ‘Give him Finn’s details. I’ll put the kettle on.’

Siobhan took the phone and put it to her ear in time to hear a deep sigh at the other end. It made her smile. Maybe a touch too wickedly but she took her fun where she could get it these days. ‘So that’s you away to Glasgow, is it?’ she said, stifling a snigger.

‘Looks like it.’ There was a tightness to Frank’s voice that made her smile again. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance she’ll be talked round?’