Minding Frankie

by Maeve Binchy

  Paddy Carroll and his wife, Molly, were going to a butchers’ dinner. It took place every year; the wives dressed up and it was held in a smart hotel. It was an occasion where Paddy Carroll had been known to over-imbibe, so Declan would drive them there and a taxi would be ordered to take them home.

  Fiona waved them off as they left in a flurry, then she sat down with a big mug of tea to watch over the two little ones crawling around the floor before she had to settle them in their cribs. They were both a bit restless this evening and she was going to have to separate them if they were going to go to sleep. She was wondering if she might possibly be pregnant again. If she was, it would be great and Declan would be so pleased, but it would mean that they would have to stir themselves and make sure the house was ready for them to move into before the baby was born. They couldn’t put Paddy and Molly through all that business of a crying baby again.

  Finally, along with the second bottle of wine, Moira broached the subject of Eddie Kennedy. Lisa thought she understood the situation, but she didn’t really see the problem.

  “Of course you don’t have to do anything for him,” she said. “It was the luck of the draw that he got you as a social worker. You don’t have to tell him about the cozy little homestead down there.”

  “But he bought that house before he got addled with drink. He’s entitled to live there.”

  “Nonsense. He gave up all rights and entitlements when he went off to England. He chose to opt out of this life. He can’t expect you to turf your father out and get his wife to take him back. She probably wouldn’t want him anyway.…”

  “But is he to die in a hostel because I don’t want to disturb things?”

  “He chose that route.” Lisa was firm.

  “If it was your father …,” Moira began.

  “I hate my father. I wouldn’t spit on him if he was on fire!”

  “I feel guilty. I’ve always given my clients the best. I’m not doing this with Eddie Kennedy,” Moira said bleakly.

  “Suppose you made it up to him in other ways? You know, went to see him in the hostel, took him out for the odd afternoon.”

  Moira looked at her in disbelief. How could this be doing her duty? It would be crossing the thin line that divided professionalism from friendship. Entirely unsuitable.

  Lisa shrugged. “Well, that’s what I’d do, anyway.” She caught Marco’s eye, and in thirty seconds a little cake with one candle came from the kitchen. The waiters sang “Happy Birthday” and everyone in the restaurant clapped.

  Moira was pink and flustered. She tried to cut the cake and all the filling oozed out of one side. Lisa took the knife from her.

  “Happy birthday, Moira,” she said, putting as much warmth into it as she could. To her amazement she saw the tears falling down Moira’s face.

  Thirty-five and this was probably the only birthday party she had ever had.

  Up in Chestnut Court the dinner was going very well.

  “Aren’t you a dark horse, being able to cook like this!” Faith said appreciatively. She was easy to talk to—not garrulous, but she talked engagingly of her background.

  She spoke briefly about the accident that had killed her fiancé, but she didn’t dwell on it. Terrible things happened to a lot of people. They had to pick themselves up.

  “Do you still love him?” Noel asked as he spooned out another helping of chicken.

  “No. In fact I can barely remember him. And you, Noel, do you miss Frankie’s mother a lot?” Faith asked.

  “No, I’m a bit like you. I hardly remembered Stella, but then that was in my drinking days. I don’t remember anything much from those times.” He smiled nervously. “But I love to have Frankie around the place.”

  “Where is she now? I brought her a funny little book of animals. It’s made of cloth, so it doesn’t matter if she eats it!”

  “Lisa dropped her in to Fiona and Declan’s. Lisa’s gone out to supper.”

  “With Anton?”

  “No, with Moira, actually.”

  “A different kind of outing, certainly.” Faith knew the cast of characters.

  “You could say that.” Noel beamed at her. This was all going so well.

  · · ·

  Fiona had just brought Declan a mug of coffee when she heard running feet outside the door and there was Lizzie, disheveled and distraught.

  “Can Declan come quickly? I’m so sorry to interrupt you, but Muttie’s been sick and it’s all blood!”

  Declan was already out of his chair and grabbing his doctor’s bag.

  “I’ll come in a minute—I’ll have to sort out the kids,” Fiona shouted.

  “Fine.” In seconds Declan was through the Scarlets’ front door. Muttie was ashen-faced, and he had been vomiting into a bowl. Declan took in the scene at a glance. “A thing of nothing, Muttie. They’ll have you as right as rain in the hospital.”

  “Couldn’t you deal with it, Declan?”

  “No, you need to be where they can take care of you properly.”

  “But it will take forever to get an ambulance,” Muttie objected.

  “We’re going in my car. Get in there right now,” Declan said firmly.

  Lizzie wanted to go with them, but Declan persuaded her to wait for Fiona. He took her back inside the house and whispered that as the hospital might need to keep Muttie in overnight, the best thing was for her to go and pack a small bag for him. Fiona would bring Lizzie up to the hospital in a taxi when she was ready, and not to worry, he would make sure that Muttie was in safe hands. He knew that having something useful to do would calm her.

  By now, Fiona had arrived and they quickly realized that they had to find somewhere for Johnny and Frankie to spend the evening and do it fast or there would be total confusion. Noel was having the first date of his life; his parents were away. Lisa had gone out with Moira—which at least would keep the social worker out of their hair; Emily would be the one to call on. Leaving Fiona to make the arrangements, Declan sped off with Muttie beside him, looking pale and frightened.

  Emily had insisted that Dr. Hat serve the meal himself. After all, he had made it.

  Michael proved to be a quiet, thoughtful man. He asked her gentle questions about her past life. It was as if he were checking her out for his old friend Hat. She hoped that she was giving a good account of herself. Hat was such a good and pleasant companion, she would hate to lose his friendship.

  She was surprised when her phone rang in the pocket of her jacket as they were at the dining table. She wasn’t expecting any calls.

  “Emily, big crisis. Can you do baby patrol?” Fiona sounded frightened.

  Emily didn’t hesitate. “Certainly. I’m on my way!” She quickly excused herself and hastened down the road.

  Outside the Carrolls’ house all was confusion. Lizzie was there crying and clutching a small suitcase; Fiona was hovering between the Scarlets’ front door and her own. Hooves was barking madly. Dimples was answering from the Carrolls’ back garden. Declan had taken Muttie to hospital. The taxi was on its way for Fiona and Lizzie.

  “I’m going up to the hospital with Lizzie to be with her while we wait for news of him,” Fiona said as soon as Emily arrived.

  “Can I move baby patrol up to Dr. Hat’s house? I’m sort of in the middle of a meal there.”

  “Of course, Emily. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.…”

  “No, it’s fine, don’t worry. Two old bachelors and myself. This will lower the age level greatly. Good luck—and let us know …”

  “Right,” Fiona said, as the taxi pulled up outside the house. She grabbed Lizzie and the suitcase and bundled her into the back of the car. “Emily, you are amazing. Key under the usual flowerpot.”

  “Go now,” Emily ordered. She ran to the Carrolls’ house and picked Johnny up out of his crib in the front room and fastened him into his buggy.

  “We’re going for a visit to Uncle Hat and Auntie Emily,” she said. She pushed the baby buggy out the door,
locked it behind her and then put the key carefully under the flowerpot.

  Dr. Hat and Michael were suitably impressed with little Johnny. The boy, exhausted from the journey, fell asleep on Dr. Hat’s sofa and was covered with a blanket. The meal continued seamlessly.

  Hat admitted, when he produced dessert, that he had not made the meringues himself but had bought them in a local confectionery shop.

  “I think he’d have gotten away with saying he made them himself, don’t you, Michael?” said Emily.

  Michael was flushed with wine and good humor. “I’d have believed anything Hat were to tell me tonight.” He beamed at them. “Never saw such a change in a person. If that’s what retirement did for you, Hat, then lead on, I say. And I do admire the way you all look after these children. It was never like that in our day—people were stressed and fussed and never believed that anyone else could look after a child for more than two minutes.”

  “Ah, they have it down to a fine art,” Dr. Hat said proudly. “Whenever Johnny and Frankie need a minder, they’re all here on tap.”

  “Frankie?” Michael asked.

  “She’s my cousin Noel’s daughter. He’s bringing her up as a single father and doing a great job of it too. Actually Noel has a date tonight. All of us chattering spinsters have great hopes for this girl Faith. He’s entertaining her in his own apartment.”

  “And so Faith is meeting the baby tonight?” Michael asked.

  “No, she knows the child already; she goes in to study there, you see. But the baby is out for the night to give them a bit of space, I think.”

  “So who’s minding Frankie tonight?” Michael asked. His question was innocent—he was fascinated by this toy town atmosphere, with good Samaritans coming out of every house in the street.

  Emily stopped to think.

  “It can’t be Lisa. She’s going out with the dreaded Moira. The twins are out on the town. The Carrolls have gone to a butchers’ dinner. Noel’s parents, my uncle Charles and aunt Josie, are in the west … who is minding Frankie?” Emily felt the first constriction of alarm in her chest.

  If Noel had been going to bring in someone from outside the circle he would have told them. Moira had been behaving like a Rottweiler at the thought of any new face on the horizon.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll call Noel,” she said, “just to set my mind at rest.”

  “You’d interrupt the boy’s first proper date with Faith?” Dr. Hat shook his head. “Think, Emily, she must be somewhere.”

  “I have run out of options, Hat—let me call Noel.”

  “I only want to say you’ll be annoyed with yourself when it’s all perfectly all right.”

  “No. I’ll be able to sleep easy,” she said.

  “Noel, I’m so sorry,” she began.

  “Is anything wrong, Emily?” He was alert to her tone immediately.

  “No, nothing. I was just checking something. Where is Frankie tonight?”

  “Lisa took her down to Fiona and Declan’s earlier. I’m having a friend to dinner.”

  “To the Carrolls’ house?”

  “Is everything all right, Emily?” he asked again.

  “Everything’s fine, Noel,” she said and hung up immediately. “You two mind Johnny here. I must have left Frankie in the Carrolls’ house. There was only one baby in the crib.” She was out the door before they could ask any more.

  Emily ran down St. Jarlath’s Crescent at a greater speed than she had known to be possible. What had Fiona said? She hadn’t said “babies.” She had said “baby patrol.” Her hand shook as she reached under the flowerpot for the key and opened the door.

  “Frankie?” she called as she ran into the house.

  There was no sound.

  In the kitchen there was a second crib with some of Frankie’s toys in it. Frankie’s buggy was parked beside it. There was no sign of the child. The strength left Emily’s legs, and she sat down on a kitchen chair to support herself.

  Someone had let themselves in and taken Frankie.

  How could this have happened?

  Then the thought struck her.

  Of course! Fiona had come back home to check on things. Yes, that must be it.

  She ran to Muttie and Lizzie’s house. It was dark and closed. She knew before she started hammering on the door that there was no one there. Now she was really frightened. Fingers starting to shake, she dialed Fiona’s mobile number. As the number connected, she heard a phone start to ring from inside the Scarlet house. It was Fiona’s ring tone—she recognized it. After a few seconds the ringing stopped and she heard the voice-mail message start.

  Declan. She had to call Declan.

  “Emily?” He answered straightaway. “Is everything all right? Is it the children?”

  “Johnny’s fine,” she said straightaway. “He’s asleep on Dr. Hat’s sofa.”

  “And Frankie?” Declan suddenly sounded alarmed. “What about Frankie?”

  But Emily had already started running.

  Chapter Twelve

  They tried to be methodical about it but panic overwhelmed them; the list was checked over and over. Signora and Aidan knew nothing about where Frankie was, but would join in any searches. No point in trying to contact Charles and Josie: they were miles away and couldn’t do anything; they’d just go mad with worry. It would be ages before Paddy and Molly would be home from the butchers’ dance. Paddy would be fueled with brandy and good cheer; Molly’s shoes would be too tight. Who could have come into the Carrolls’ house and spirited Frankie away? She couldn’t have got out herself and Emily had been back into the house and searched the place from top to bottom. Anywhere, any small space a child might be able to crawl into—she must be here somewhere.

  She wasn’t.

  Could somebody have been watching the house? It seemed less than possible and there was no sign of a break-in. There must be a rational explanation. Should the police be called?

  Having left Faith in the flat to answer any calls and white-faced with anxiety, Noel ran in and out of all the houses in St. Jarlath’s Crescent. Had anyone seen anything? Anything at all?

  He had sent Lisa a text and asked her to call him from the ladies’, out of Moira’s earshot. Lisa was shocked at how frightened she felt when he told her the news. For the time being, she was not to come home. It didn’t matter where she went, as long as she kept Moira occupied. She felt sure that Moira must be able to tell something was wrong; nailing a smile onto her face, she went back to the table.

  Up at the hospital, Lizzie wandered up and down the corridors asking plaintively when she was going to be able to see how Muttie was getting on. Fiona persuaded her to come back into the waiting room and sit down. They would wait for Declan to come.

  He arrived twenty minutes later. “Well, he’s stable now but they’re going to keep him in for a while.” His voice was grim. “They’ve made him comfortable and he’s sleeping,” he said to Lizzie. “You’ll probably not be able to speak to him until tomorrow but he should feel better after a good night’s rest. We should all go home.”

  Lizzie was pleased with the news. “I’m glad he’s getting a good rest. I’ll leave his suitcase in for him for tomorrow.”

  “Do that, Lizzie,” Fiona said, realizing that there was something Declan hadn’t told her. Could this night get any worse?

  It was a time of frantic comings and goings. Michael stayed with Johnny as Hat and Emily went through the whole thing over and over. At least a hundred times Emily must have said that she should never have gone along with the silly phrase “baby patrol.” She should have asked what it meant and how many babies were involved.

  Hat, in her defense, said that it was all Fiona’s fault. Imagine having two babies in different rooms and not mentioning it! It was unheard-of.

  Noel was almost out of his mind with grief and worry and rage—what were those idiotic women doing, risking his daughter’s safety like that? How could they be so stupid as to abandon her in that house, leaving h
er prey to—who knew what? And as for him, it was all his own fault. Stella had trusted him with their daughter and he’d let her down, all because he’d wanted to spend some time with a woman. Now some monster, some pervert, had taken his little girl, and he might never see her again. He might never hold her in his arms and see her smile. He might never hear her voice calling him “Dada.” If anyone had hurt her, if anyone had touched a hair of his Frankie’s head … And in the middle of St. Jarlath’s Crescent, Noel knelt down on the pavement and wept for his little girl.

  Lisa managed to escape Moira on two occasions by going back to the ladies’ room, but she couldn’t go on doing this all night. She decided to persuade Moira to go to Teddy’s birthday party at Anton’s.

  “But I won’t know anyone,” Moira had wailed.

  “Neither will I. Most of them will be strangers to me, friends of silly April, but come on, Moira, it’s free drink and it’s your birthday too. Why not?” And as Moira agreed, Lisa dragged herself together. She wished that she was at home with Noel helping to coordinate the search. There must be an explanation. Lisa had heard very little except a trembling hysteria from Noel about what could have happened.

  “Noel, don’t hate me for saying this, but in the name of God, don’t go back on the drink.”

  “No, Lisa, I won’t.” His voice was clipped.

  “I know you’re cross with me, but I had to say it.”

  “Yes, I realize you did.”

  “Go back to where we were before I said it. She’s fine. There’s been a misunderstanding. It will be sorted.”

  “Sure it will, Lisa,” he said.

  · · ·

  Sergeant Sean O’Meara had seen it all and done it all and, if he was honest, he would say that most of it was fairly depressing, but this occasion was just bizarre.

  An extremely drunk man called Paddy Carroll was explaining over and over that he had been at a butchers’ dinner and someone had spiked his drinks. He had started to behave foolishly and so he agreed that his wife should take him home in a taxi. The wife, a Mrs. Molly Carroll, said that she was not a serious partaker of alcohol herself and had been delighted when her husband agreed to come home with her, as her feet were killing her. But when they got home, they were bemused to find Frankie asleep in the crib and their own family—son, daughter-in-law and grandson—nowhere to be found.