Minding Frankie

by Maeve Binchy

  They had tried to contact several people, but hadn’t been able to speak to anyone who might know what was going on. They’d tried to find the child’s father but had arrived at his apartment block not knowing which flat he lived in. What sort of people don’t put their names on doorbells, asked Paddy Carroll, looking around him accusingly. What sort of people don’t want people to know where they lived? So what were they to do?

  “So, you want us to find this Noel Lynch. Is that it?” Sergeant O’Meara asked. “Had you ever thought of ringing him?” And he handed the phone to Paddy Carroll, who suddenly looked even more confused.

  Faith was pacing up and down at Chestnut Court. She had a sheet of paper beside the phone and she perched nervously beside it, trying not to jump when it rang. Anyone who phoned in was asked for their telephone number, but she had little information to give out. Yes, Frankie was still missing; no, Noel wasn’t there, he was out looking. No, they hadn’t called the police yet, but the time was fast approaching when they would have to do so. They had agreed that if Frankie were not found within the hour, Faith would call the guards. There wasn’t long to go.

  Noel had phoned her eight times already, knowing as he did that she would call him the moment there was any news.

  She checked her watch again. It was time. She had to call the police. Hand shaking, she reached for the phone, and as she did so, it rang. Her stomach lurched. Anxiously she answered.

  At first, she thought it was a crank call. The man’s voice on the other end of the phone sounded muffled, incoherent, angry, she thought at first, but soon she realized he might be drunk. No, Noel wasn’t there, he was … No, he had been at home earlier in the evening but … No, his daughter was missing and the police were about to be called.…

  “But that’s what I’m telling you,” the voice said. “I’ve got his daughter here. She’s with us now.…” And suddenly Faith heard the unmistakable sound of Frankie crying.

  “She’s found, Noel! Not a hair of her head touched,” she said. “She’s great. She’s asking for her daddy.”

  “Have you seen her? Is she there with you?”

  “No. They brought her to the Garda station. It was the Carrolls. It was Paddy and Molly Carroll. It was all a misunderstanding. They were looking for you.”

  “What the hell did they mean by that? What do you mean, looking for me? We were in all night!” Noel was torn between overpowering relief and fury.

  “No, it’s all right—don’t get angry. They got enough of a shock already.”

  “They got a shock! What about the rest of us? What happened?”

  “They came home early from their do and they found her in the crib alone in the house. They must have arrived just after Fiona and Lizzie set off for the hospital. They called on all the neighbors, but there was no one around—Declan and Fiona were at the hospital with the Scarlets, Emily had been at Dr. Hat’s but they didn’t know that and, of course, Charles and Josie weren’t there. They tried to call Fiona, but she’d left her phone at Lizzie’s. Declan’s phone was busy, so they came to Chestnut Court to see you. Only by the sound of it they’d got the wrong flat number and were pressing the wrong doorbell. By the time we knew Frankie was missing they were on their way to the Garda. They thought something was terribly wrong and quite rightly didn’t want to put the child at further risk. But she’s fine and we need to get over there to pick her up.”

  But Noel was still distraught. “Frankie’s in a police station. What chance will I have of keeping her once bloody Moira gets to hear of this?”

  “Don’t worry—I’ll call Lisa as soon as I put the phone down and let her know Frankie is found. Then I’ll put together some things for Frankie—why don’t you collect me here and we’ll go up together? Let’s get her home before Moira ever knows she was missing.…”

  Sergeant O’Meara had no idea what they were all doing in a police station, and he wished someone, anyone, would shut the screaming child up. Mrs. Carroll kept bouncing the baby up and down, but the decibel level was getting higher. It was all starting to grate on him.

  “Why exactly did you bring the child here? If you know who she is and all belonging to her?”

  Paddy Carroll tried to explain. “It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Be on the safe side,” he said.

  “The safe side of what?” Sergeant O’Meara asked, raising his voice above the din.

  Paddy wished that his mind was less fuzzy and his speech more clear. “Could I have a cup of tea?” he asked plaintively.

  “It’s a pity you didn’t think of having tea earlier in the evening,” Mrs. Molly Carroll said sharply.

  Sergeant O’Meara went to get tea, glad to get away from the screaming baby for a moment. “So this Noel Lynch is on his way here now,” he said wearily, when he came back with the tea.

  “There he is!” Paddy Carroll cried out, pointing at the glass door out in the front office. “There he is! Noel! Noel! Come in here! We’ve got Frankie for you!”

  And Sergeant O’Meara rescued Paddy Carroll’s teacup just before it pitched onto the child as Noel threw himself at his baby girl.

  “Frankie! Are you all right?” he cried, his voice muffled with emotion. “Darling little Frankie. I’m so sorry, really I am. I’ll never leave you again.…” Frantically, he checked that she was all right, uninjured in any way; then he wiped her face and her nose, and dried her eyes.

  Behind him, meanwhile, stood a small, slim woman with green eyes and a big smile. She was carrying one of Frankie’s coats and a woolly scarf; more important, she was carrying a jar of baby food, which she handed to Noel straightaway.

  As Noel fed his daughter, almost magically, the crying stopped, the baby calmed down and peace was restored.

  Sergeant O’Meara was profoundly grateful that the situation seemed to be sorting itself out.

  More and more people were arriving: a stressed-out middle-aged woman with frizzy hair and an older man, wearing a hat like something from a black-and-white movie.

  “Oh, Frankie! I’m so sorry …” The woman bent down to kiss the baby girl. “I didn’t know you were there. I’ll never forgive myself. Never.”

  The man in the hat introduced himself as Dr. Hat; he looked like the only person with any degree of control. “If ever there was a case of all’s well that ends well … it’s here.” He beamed at everyone. “And well done, Mr. and Mrs. Carroll. You did exactly the right thing in the circumstances. Noel, we’ll all get out of here, don’t you think, and leave Detective O’Meara to his business. No need to write a report at all—wouldn’t you agree?”

  The sergeant looked at Dr. Hat gratefully. The writing of a report about this was going to be Gothic. “If everyone’s satisfied …” he began.

  “I’m so sorry about this,” Dr. Hat said to him quietly. “It’s a terrible waste of your time, but I assure you that it was well meant. We’re sorry to have disturbed you—but no harm done.…”

  And as they all shuffled out of the police station, Sergeant O’Meara heard them saying to one another in tones of relief that Moira need never know a thing about any of it. He wondered vaguely who Moira might be, but it was late and he could now go home to his wife, Ita, who always had a hundred stories of her day’s work on the wards in St. Brigid’s. He would tell her this one, if he had the energy to unpick who was who.

  Muttie was asleep when Lizzie arrived at his bedside. They told her that he would need a scan in the morning but that he was comfortable now; far better for her to be at home and get a good night’s sleep. She left the suitcase for him beside his bed.

  “Can I leave him a note?” she asked, fearful of strange places and unfamiliar surroundings. A nurse brought her pen and paper.

  Lizzie pinned a note to the suitcase.

  Muttie, my darling, I’ve gone home but I’ll be back tomorrow. You’re going to be fine. The next time we use this suitcase will be when we go to New York and have dinner in Chinatown.

  Love from Lizzie

&
nbsp; She felt better, she told Declan, now that she had written a letter.

  Declan’s relief at the safe return of Frankie was tempered by what he had just discovered: he had spoken to the medical team that had examined Muttie. The cancer had spread all over his body.

  It would not be long now.

  Lisa thought that the night would never end. Teddy’s birthday party at Anton’s was in full swing when they got there. They had just put on music and were beginning to dance. Straightaway she noticed April dancing around Anton.

  “Hey, that’s not dancing! That’s lap dancing!” she called in a very loud voice. A few people laughed. Anton looked annoyed.

  April went on weaving and squirming.

  “Suit yourself,” she said to Lisa. “You dance your way—I dance mine.”

  Lisa, her rage fueled by alcohol and jealousy, was about to engage in further conversation, but Moira interrupted quickly.

  “I need a glass of water, Lisa. Can you come and get one with me?”

  “You don’t need water,” Lisa said.

  “Oh, but I do,” Moira countered, pushing her towards the ladies’ room. There she took a glass of water and offered it to Lisa.

  “You’re not expecting me to drink this, are you?”

  “I think you should, then we’ll go home.”

  Lisa was only just holding herself together. Moira must never know Frankie was missing.

  “I’ll think about it,” she said.

  Moira spoke firmly. “I think it would be wise. Yes, then I’ll phone us a taxi.”

  “No, we can’t go home. Wherever we go, we can’t go home!” Lisa said in fright.

  Moira asked mildly, “Well, where do you want to go, then?”

  “I’ll think,” Lisa promised. Just then her own phone buzzed with a text message. Trembling, she read it.

  ALL CLEAR. COME HOME ANYTIME. F SAFE AND SOUND.

  “They found her!” Lisa cried.

  “Who?” Moira paused in the middle of talking to the taxi firm.

  Lisa stopped herself in time. “My friend Mary! She was lost and now she’s found!” she shouted, with a very unfocused look on her face.

  “But you were talking to her earlier, weren’t you?” Moira was perplexed.

  “Yes and she got lost. And then found since then,” Lisa said foolishly.

  Moira completed her call to the taxi and began to support Lisa towards the exit. On the way, they passed Teddy, the birthday boy, who whispered in Moira’s ear.

  “Well done. Anton will owe you for this. We have an unexploded bomb here,” he said, nodding towards Lisa.

  “Well, it’s a pity he wasn’t able to do something about it!” Moira retorted.

  “Not his problem.” Teddy shrugged.

  “Good enough to sleep with, but not important enough to be nice to, right?”

  “I just said he’d be grateful to you. She was about to make a scene.”

  Moira pushed past him, supporting Lisa into the taxi. Her dismal outlook on men seemed to have been confirmed tonight.

  Lisa sang a little in the taxi. Sad songs about loss and infidelity, and then they were in Chestnut Court.

  “Lisa’s home, slightly the worse for wear,” Moira said into the entry phone.

  “Can you help her in, please, Moira?”

  “Certainly.”

  Noel put Frankie down for the first time since she had been found. He realized he had been clinging to her since they came back to the flat.

  Faith had washed the dishes and tidied up the place.

  Moira brought Lisa in the door and settled her into a chair.

  “Partly my fault. We had a lot of wine at Ennio’s and then we went to this party at Anton’s.”

  “Oh, I see,” Noel said.

  “You’ll be fine, Lisa,” Faith said, holding Lisa’s trailing hand.

  “Oh, Moira, I’m Faith, by the way. A friend of Noel and Lisa’s from the college.”

  “How do you do?” Moira was gruff. She felt an unreasoning jealousy of Lisa. Nobody was blaming her for having become drunk. There was a household of people welcoming her. Even the child had stretched out her little arms towards Lisa as she lay slumped in her chair. If it had happened to Moira, she would have had to go home to an empty apartment. It seemed that almost everyone else in the world had sorted out his or her relationships while she, Moira, still was alone.

  She left abruptly. Lisa let out a deep breath.

  “I didn’t tell her,” she said.

  “I know you didn’t,” Noel said.

  “You did a great job,” Faith said soothingly.

  “Good. Glad it’s sorted,” Lisa said, her voice slurring. She began to slide off the chair, but they caught her before she reached the ground.

  “When I think,” she said intensely, “when I remember what I said to you, Noel, that it would be terrible if you were to fall into drink … and then I went and did it myself …”

  “It doesn’t matter, Lisa. You’ll be fine tomorrow,” Noel said. “And you did great work keeping Moira distracted. You did brilliantly.”

  “Why don’t we give Lisa a hand to get into bed?” Faith made it all sound as if it had been a completely normal evening, what everyone did every night all over the place.…

  When she got home, Lizzie was surprised to see so many people in her house. Her sister Geraldine was there, her daughter Cathy and Cathy’s husband, Tom Feather. The twins and Marco were there, and there were constant phone calls coming in from Chicago and Australia. Everyone seemed to be making tea and Marco had provided a tray of cakes.

  “Won’t Muttie be disappointed to have missed all this,” Lizzie said, and people looked away before she could see the pain in their faces.

  Eventually they persuaded her to go to bed. The sitting room was still full of people. Cathy went upstairs with her mother and tried to reassure her.

  “They’re terrific in St. Brigid’s, Mam—don’t be worrying about him. Geraldine’s just been saying how good they are. All the best consultants and everything. They’ll have Da right in no time.”

  “I think he’s very sick,” Lizzie said.

  “But he’s in the right place,” Cathy said for the twentieth time.

  “He’d prefer to be in his own home,” Lizzie said for the thirtieth time.

  “And he will be, Mam, so you’re to get to sleep so that you’ll be up and ready for him when he does come home. You’re asleep on your feet.”

  That worked. Lizzie made a slight movement towards the bed and Cathy had her nightdress ready. Her mother looked so small and frail; Cathy wondered would she be able to bear all that lay ahead.

  Maud said that Marco had texted to say that he and Dingo Duggan would be available night and day with Dingo’s van if anyone needed to be driven anywhere.

  Marco had said, “I am so sorry about your grandfather. Please God, he will get better.”

  “Please God, indeed,” Simon said, when Maud read him the text message.

  “I think he just says that automatically.”

  “Like Lizzie says ‘DV,’ ” Simon agreed.

  “Yes. I remember Mother used to say that too, except that she started to say ‘VD’ instead,” Maud said. “Dad would explain it over and over. DV meant Deo volente, God willing, but Mother always nodded and said ‘VD.’ ” Simon and Maud talked very little about the parents who had abandoned them when they were young. This was their home. Muttie was the man they loved, rather than the elegant father who had gone away on his travels. Lizzie was the mother they never really had. Their own mother had always been frail, with a light grip on reality. If they had heard that either of their biological parents had died, there would be a minor sense of regret. The news about Muttie was as if somebody had stuck a knife right into their bodies.

  · · ·

  Nurse Ita O’Meara looked down at the man in the bed. He was in very poor shape. All she could do for him was to keep him under observation and make him comfortable.

  “What’s y
our name?” he asked her.

  “I’m Ita, Mr. Scarlet.”

  “Then I’m Muttie,” he said.

  “Well, Muttie, what can I do for you? A cup of tea?”

  “Yes, I’d love some tea. Could you sit down and talk to me for a bit?”

  “I could indeed, and would be glad to. We’re not busy tonight.”

  “Ita, you see, you don’t know me from a hole in the ground.”

  “That’s true, but I’ll get to know you,” she reassured him.

  “No, that’s not what I meant. I want someone who doesn’t know me.”

  “Oh, yes?”

  “It’s easier to talk to a stranger. Will you tell me—am I for the chop?”

  Ita had been asked this question before. It was never easy to answer. “Well, you know your illness is serious and that we’re at the stage where all we can do is make you comfortable. But you’re not on the way out tonight.”

  “Good. But some night soon, do you think?”

  “It won’t be long, Muttie, but I’d say you’ve time to sort things out.” Ita was reassuring. “Is there anyone you want me to call for you?”

  “How do you know I want to sort things out?” he asked.

  “Everyone does at night, especially their first night in hospital. They want to make speeches and talk to lawyers and they want to talk to all kinds of people. Then, when they’re leaving here, they’ve forgotten it all.”

  Muttie’s eyes beseeched her. “And do you think I’ll get out of here?”

  Ita looked him in the eye. “I tell you, as sure as I know my own name, you’ll go home from here and then you’ll forget all about us. You won’t remember me and my cups of tea anymore.”

  “I will indeed remember you and how kind you are. I’ll tell everyone about you. And you’re right, I do want to make speeches and talk to lawyers and tell people things. I hope to do it all from home.”