Minding Frankie

by Maeve Binchy

  Declan shrugged. “I’ve no idea,” he said. Let Noel sweat a bit. Let him think that Moira was on the case.

  “Oh, my God …,” Noel said. His face had almost dissolved in grief.

  Declan took pity on him. “Well, no one else turned up, so I suppose I was the only one,” he said.

  “I’m so sorry,” Noel began.

  “Why?” Declan cut across him.

  “I can’t remember. I really can’t. I felt a bit uptight and I thought one or two drinks might help and wouldn’t matter. I didn’t know it was going to end like this.…”

  Declan said nothing and Malachy was silent too. Noel couldn’t bear it.

  “Malachy, why didn’t you stop me?” he asked.

  “Because I was at home doing a jigsaw with my ten-year-old son. I didn’t hear from you that you were going out—that’s why.” Malachy hadn’t spoken such a long sentence before.

  “But, Malachy, I thought you were meant to …”

  “I am meant to come when there’s a danger that you might be about to go back to drinking. I am not meant to be inspired by the Holy Ghost as to when you decide this kind of activity all on your own,” Malachy said.

  “I didn’t know it was going to turn out like this,” Noel said piteously.

  “No, you thought it would be lovely and easy like the movies. And I bet you wondered what we were all doing at those meetings.”

  Noel’s face showed that this is exactly what he had wondered.

  Declan Carroll suddenly felt very tired. “Where do we go from here?” he asked both men.

  “It’s up to Noel,” Malachy said.

  “Why is it up to me?” Noel cried.

  “If you want to try to kick it again, I’ll try to help you. But it’s going to be hell on earth.”

  “Of course I want to,” Noel said.

  “It’s no use if you are just waiting for me to get out of your hair so that you can sneak off and stick your face into it again.”

  “I won’t do that,” Noel wailed. “From tomorrow on it will be back just the same as it was up to now.”

  “What do you mean tomorrow? What’s wrong with today?” Malachy asked.

  “Well, tomorrow, fresh start and everything.”

  “Today, fresh start and everything,” Malachy said.

  “But just a couple of vodkas to straighten me up and then we can start with a clean slate?” Noel was almost begging now.

  “Grow up, Noel,” Malachy said.

  Declan spoke. “I can’t let you look after our son anymore, Noel. Johnny won’t come here again unless we know you’re off the sauce,” he said slowly and deliberately.

  “Ah, Declan, don’t hit me when I’m down. I wouldn’t hurt a hair of that child’s head.” Noel had tears in his eyes.

  “You left your own daughter with Dingo Duggan for hour after hour. No, Noel, I wouldn’t risk it. And even if I did, Fiona wouldn’t.”

  “Does she have to know?”

  “I think so, yes.” Declan hated doing it, but it was the truth. They couldn’t trust Noel anymore. And if he felt like that, what would Moira feel?

  It didn’t bear thinking about.

  “We have to tell Aidan and Signora,” Declan said.

  “Why?” Noel asked, worried. “I’m over it now. I hate them knowing I’m so weak.”

  “You’re not weak, Noel—you’re very strong. It’s not easy for you doing what you do. I know. Believe me.”

  “No, I don’t believe you, Declan. You were always a social drinker, a pint in the evening and no more. That’s balance and moderation—two things I was never any good at.”

  “You took on more than most men would have done. I admire you a lot,” Declan said simply.

  “I don’t admire myself. I disgust myself,” Noel said.

  “And what help will that be to Frankie as she grows up? Come on, Noel—it’s her first Christmas coming up. The whole street is going to celebrate. You’ve got to get yourself into good form for it. No self-pity.”

  “But Signora and Aidan?”

  “They know something is wrong. We mustn’t play games with them. They can cope with it, Noel. They’ve coped with a lot in their lives.”

  “Anyone else I should tell?” Noel looked defensive and hurt by it all.

  “Yes, Lisa, of course, and Emily.” Declan was very definite.

  “No, please. Please, not Emily.”

  “No need to tell your parents or my parents or anyone like that, but Emily and Lisa need to know.”

  “I thought it was over,” Noel said sadly.

  Declan forced himself to be cheerful. “It will be over soon and meanwhile the more help you can get, the better.”

  “Go back to the real world and heal the sick, Declan. Don’t bother with me and my addictions.”

  “What could be more real than the man whose daughter is going to be best friends with our son—remember? We arranged it with Stella.”

  “Thank God she doesn’t know how it all turned out,” Noel said fervently.

  “It turned out very well until now and it will again. Anyway, according to people like your parents and mine, Stella does know, and she understands it all perfectly.”

  “You don’t believe any of that claptrap, Declan, do you?”

  “Not exactly, but you know …” Declan ended it vaguely.

  “No, I don’t know, I don’t know at all. But if I have to tell Aidan and Signora then I will. Is that okay?”

  “Thanks, Noel.”

  Declan had, of course, already told Fiona all about Noel. She had been, as usual, practical and optimistic.

  “He sounds shocked by what he did,” she said.

  “Yes, but I wish I knew why he did it,” Declan said, worried.

  “You said yourself he was in bad form.”

  “But he must have been in bad form a hundred times during the last few months and he never went out on the town. He loves that child. You should see him with her. He’s as good as any mother.”

  “I know, I have seen him … everyone has. That child has a dozen families round here who’ll all do a bit more at the moment.”

  “Noel’s very sensitive about not letting people know, but he has to tell them. Until he does, don’t say anything.”

  “Quiet as the grave,” Fiona said.

  Declan Carroll took his morning surgery. He had been two hours late, so Dr. Hat had been called in to help.

  “Muttie Scarlet rang a couple of times. He said you’d have some results for him today.”

  “And I do,” Declan said glumly.

  “I thought you might.” Dr. Hat was sympathetic.

  “Isn’t it a shit life, Hat?” Declan said.

  “It is indeed, but I’m usually the one who says that and you always say it’s not so bad.”

  “I’m not saying that today. I’m off out to Muttie’s house. Can you stay a bit longer?”

  “I’ll stay as long as you like. They don’t want me, though; they’ll ask when the real doctor will be back,” Dr. Hat said.

  “I bet they do! They still ask me was I born when they got their first twinge of whatever they have and the answer is always that I wasn’t.”

  “Ah, Declan, any news yet?” Muttie answered the door. He spoke in a low voice. He didn’t want his wife, Lizzie, to hear the conversation.

  “You know how they are,” Declan said. “They’re so laid-back up there in the hospital they give a new urgency to the word mañana.…”

  “So?” Muttie asked.

  “So I was wondering would we go and have a pint?” Declan said.

  “I’ll go and get Hooves,” Muttie suggested.

  “No, let’s go to Casey’s instead of Dad’s and your pub—too many Associates there … we’d get nothing said.”

  Declan saw from Muttie’s face that he realized immediately that the news wasn’t good.

  Old Man Casey served them and, since there was no response to his conversation about the weather, the neighborhood and the reces
sion, he left them alone.

  “Give it to me straight, Declan,” Muttie said.

  “It’s only early days yet, Muttie.”

  “It’s bad enough for a drink in the middle of the day, lad. Will you tell me or do I have to beat it out of you?”

  “They saw a shadow on the X-ray; the scan showed a small tumor.”

  “Tumor?”

  “You know … a lump. I’ve made an appointment for you with a specialist next month.”

  “Next month?”

  “The sooner we deal with it, the better, Muttie.”

  “But how in the name of God did you get an appointment so soon? I thought there was a waiting list as long as your arm?”

  “I went private,” Declan said.

  “But I’m a workingman, Declan, I can’t afford these fancy fees.…”

  “You won a fortune a few years back on some horse. You’ve got money in the bank—you told me.”

  “But that’s for emergencies and rainy days.…”

  “This is a rainy day, Muttie.” Declan blew his nose very loudly. This was more than he could bear at the moment. He heard himself lying as he felt he had been lying all day.

  “The thing is, Muttie, once this appointment is made you can’t cancel it. You have to pay for it anyway.”

  “Isn’t that disgraceful!” Muttie was outraged. “Aren’t they very greedy, these people?”

  “It’s the system,” Declan said wearily.

  “It shouldn’t be allowed.” Muttie shook his head in disapproval.

  “But you’ll go, won’t you? Tell me you’ll go?”

  “I’ll go because you can’t get me out of it. But it’s very highhanded of you, Declan. But if he suggests some mad, expensive treatment, he’s not getting another cent out of me!” Muttie vowed.

  “No, it’s just to know the treatment that he would advise. One visit …”

  “All right then,” Muttie grumbled.

  “You never asked me one single thing about the whole business,” Declan said. “I mean, there are a lot of options: chemotherapy, radiotherapy, surgery …”

  Muttie looked at him with the air of a man who has seen it all and heard it all. “Won’t I hear all about it from the fellow whose Rolls-Royce I’m paying for? No point in thinking about it until I have to. Okay?”

  “Okay,” agreed Declan, who was beginning to wonder would this day ever end.

  By the time that Moira called at Chestnut Court, things had settled down a lot.

  Noel had agreed not to drink today. Malachy had taken him to an AA meeting, where nobody had blamed him but everyone had congratulated him on turning up that day.

  Halfway through the meeting, Noel remembered that he had not let them know in Hall’s that he wouldn’t be in today.

  “Declan did that ages ago,” Malachy said.

  “What did he say?”

  “That he was your doctor and you weren’t able to go in. That he was telephoning from your flat.”

  “I wonder how Mr. Hall took that?” Noel was full of anxiety.

  “Oh, Declan would have reassured him. You’d believe anything he said. Anyway, it was all true. You weren’t able to go in and he was at your flat.”

  “He looked very put out about everything,” Noel said. “I hope he won’t turn against me.”

  “No, I think he was put out about something else.” Malachy knew when there was a time to be very firm and a time to be more generous.

  Moira viewed the presence of Malachy in the house with no great pleasure.

  “Are you a babysitter?” she asked.

  “No, Ms. Tierney, I am from Alcoholics Anonymous. That’s how I know Noel.”

  “Oh, really …” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Any reason for the visit?”

  “We were at a meeting together up the road and I came back for some tea with Noel. That’s permitted, isn’t it?”

  “Of course—you mustn’t make me into some kind of a monster. I’m merely here for Frankie’s sake. It’s just that we had a full and frank exchange of views yesterday and I suppose, well, when I saw you here, I thought that you might … that Noel could possibly … that all was not well.”

  “And so now you are reassured?” Malachy asked silkily.

  “Frankie will be coming back shortly. We want to get things ready for her … unless there’s anything else?” Noel spoke politely.

  Moira left.

  Malachy turned to Noel. “One ball-breaker,” he said, and for the first time that day Noel smiled.

  Everyone had been planning a Christmas party for Frankie and Johnny. Balloons and paper decorations had been discussed at length and in detail. It was going to be held in Chestnut Court: the apartment block had a big communal room that could be rented for such occasions. Lisa and Noel had reserved it weeks back. Was it to go ahead or was Noel too frail to be part of it?

  “We’ve got to go for it,” Lisa encouraged him. “Otherwise when she looks back on her album she’ll wonder why there was no celebration for her first Christmas.”

  “She won’t be looking back on any album with us,” Noel said grimly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “They’ll take her from me, and rightly so. Who would leave a child with me?”

  “Well, thank you very much from the rest of us who are doing our best to make a home for her,” Lisa said tartly. “We are not going to give up so easily. Get her into the pram, Noel, and we’ll head off and look at this room.”

  Just then the phone rang.

  “Noel, it’s Declan. Can we leave Johnny with you for an hour or so—it would be a great help.” This was the first time since Noel’s drinking incident that Johnny had been offered.

  Noel knew it was a peace offering and an olive branch. But he also knew it was a vote of confidence. He stood a bit taller now.

  “Sure, Declan, we’ll take him off to see the room where he’s having his first Christmas party,” he said. And he felt that Declan was pleased too, glad to know the party was going ahead.

  Having a party for the children three days before Christmas was a great opportunity for the families to get together. Most of them celebrated the actual day quietly, eating too much of their own turkeys and sitting with family in front of the television. But this was an excuse to get together and wear paper hats and pretend that it was all for the children, two small babies who would sleep through most of it.

  Lisa was in charge of decorating the hall, and she did it in scarlet and silver. Emily helped her to drape huge red curtains borrowed from the church hall, Dingo Duggan had brought a van full of holly from what he described vaguely as the countryside, Aidan and Signora had decorated a tree that would be left in the big room over the Christmas season. They were going to bring their own grandson, Joseph Edward, to the party as a guest, and Thomas Muttance Feather, Muttie’s grandson, was coming on the assurance that he wouldn’t have to talk to babies or sit at a children’s table.

  Josie and Charles were wondering if a picture of St. Jarlath would be appropriate in the decorations, and tactfully, Lisa found a place for it. Somewhere it wouldn’t look utterly ludicrous.

  Simon and Maud had a job doing a house party, so they couldn’t do the catering, but Emily had arranged a supper where all the women would bring a chicken or vegetable dish of some sort, and all the men would bring wine and beer or soft drinks and a dessert. The desserts had of course turned out to be an immense number of chocolate ones bought in supermarkets. They were arranged artistically on paper plates on a separate table to be wheeled in after the main course was finished.

  Noel showed Frankie all the Christmas decorations and smiled at her adoringly as she squealed with pleasure and sucked her fingers. Dressed in a red Babygro and with a little red pixie hat keeping her head warm, she was passed around from one doting adult to another, and featured in a hundred photographs along with Johnny. Even Thomas was persuaded to join in and posed for pictures with the three youngsters and a plate of mince pies.

  Fa
ther Flynn had brought a Czech trio to play. They had been lonely in Dublin and missed their homeland, so he arranged a number of outings like this, which they enjoyed doing while they got a good meal and their bus money, and an audience cheering them on.

  They sang Christmas songs and carols in Czech and in English. And when it came to

  Away in a manger

  No crib for His bed

  The little Lord Jesus

  Laid down His sweet head

  a hush fell on family and friends as they looked at the two sleeping babies. Then they all joined in the singing for the next bit:

  The stars in the bright sky

  Looked down where He lay

  The little Lord Jesus

  Asleep on the hay

  and everyone in the room, believers or nonbelievers, felt some sense of Christmas that they had not felt before.

  “You’re very good giving Muttie a lift,” Lizzie said when Declan called at the Scarlet house on a cold, gray January morning. “He hates going to the bank—it makes him feel uneasy. He’s dressed himself up likes a dog’s dinner, but he’s been like a caged lion all morning.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, Lizzie—I’m going there anyway and I’d enjoy the company.”

  Declan realized that Muttie had told Lizzie nothing whatsoever about his appointment with the specialist. He looked at Muttie, dressed in his best suit and tie, and couldn’t help noticing how thin the older man had become. It was a wonder Lizzie hadn’t seen it.

  They drove in silence while Muttie drummed his fingers and Declan rehearsed what he was going to say when Dr. Harris delivered the news that was staring at Declan from X-rays, scans and reports. They called first at the bank, where Declan cashed a check just to prove that he had business there. Muttie withdrew 500 euros from his savings.

  “Even Scrooge Harris can’t charge that much,” he said, nervously putting it in his wallet. Muttie Scarlet wasn’t happy about carrying huge sums of money like this, but he was even less happy still about handing it over it to this greedy man.

  As it turned out, Dr. Harris turned out to be a kindly man. He was more than pleased to have Declan join them for the consultation.