Minding Frankie

by Maeve Binchy

  “I don’t know … very important—you do all the designs; you have lots of good ideas; you’re very glamorous and I fancy you a lot. Now will that do?”

  “And do you see me as part of your future?” She was still unruffled.

  There was a silence.

  Lisa remembered Katie’s advice not to be reckless, not to say anything she couldn’t stand over. Maybe he would say no, that she wasn’t part of the future for him. This would leave her like an empty, hollow shell, but she didn’t think he would say it.

  Anton looked uncomfortable. “Don’t talk to me about the future. None of us knows where we will be in the great future.”

  “We’re old enough to know,” Lisa said.

  “Do you know what Teddy and I were talking about now when you came in and turfed him out?”

  “No. What?”

  “The future of this restaurant. The takings are appalling, we’re losing money hand over fist. The suppliers are beginning to scream. The bank isn’t being helpful. Some days we’re almost empty for lunch. Today we had only three tables. We’d be better giving everyone who booked fifty euro and telling them to go away. Tonight we will be only half full. Investors notice these things. It needs some kind of a lift. It’s going stale. You want to talk about the future—I don’t think there is one.”

  “Do you see me in your future?” Lisa asked again.

  “Oh, God Almighty, Lisa, I do if you could come up with some ideas rather than bleating like a teenager. That is if we have a future here at all …”

  “Ideas—is that what you want?” Her voice was now, if anything, dangerously composed.

  Anton looked at her nervously. “You’re a great ideas woman.”

  “Okay. Light lunches—low-calorie healthy lunches in one part of the dining room, where they can’t see roast beef or tiramisu going past. And even that fool April could get you some publicity for this. Oh, and you could organize a weekly section on a radio show where people could send in their recipes for things that are under two hundred and fifty calories and you could judge them. Are those good ideas?”

  “As usual, you’re right on the button. Will we call in the others to discuss this?”

  “And what ideas do you have about me?” she asked.

  “Are you still on this thing?”

  “Just tell me. Tell me now—answer me and I’ll stop asking you,” she promised.

  “Okay. I admire you a lot. I’m your friend.…”

  “And lover …,” she added.

  “Well, yes, from time to time. I thought you felt the same about it all.”

  “Like what, exactly?”

  “That it was something nice we shared—but not the meaning of life or anything. Not a steady road to the altar.”

  “So why did you continue to have me around?”

  “As I’ve said, you’re bright, very bright, you’re lovely and you’re fun. And also I think a little lonely.”

  As she heard the words, something changed in Lisa’s head. It was like a car moving into another gear. It was almost as if she were coming out of a dream. She could take his indifference, his infidelity, his careless ways.

  She could not take his pity.

  “And you might be a little lonely too, Anton, when this place fails. When Teddy has bailed out and gone to another trendy place, when little Miss April has flown off to something that’s successful. There’s nowhere in her little life for failure. When people say, ‘Anton? Isn’t he the one who used to own some restaurant … popular for a while but it disappeared without trace,’ you might well be lonely then too. So let’s hope someone will take pity on you and you’ll see how it feels.”

  “Lisa, please …”

  “Good-bye, Anton.”

  “You’ll come back when you’re more yourself.”

  “I think not.” She was still composed.

  “Why are you so angry with me, Lisa?” His head was on one side—his persuasive position.

  But it didn’t change her mind. “I’m angry with myself, Anton. I had a perfectly good job and I left it because of you. I meant to get other clients, but there was always something to be done here. I’m broke to the world. I’m depending on a horse called Not the Villain to win a race today because if he does I get something called an enabling fee and I’ll be able to buy my share of the groceries for the flat where I have a room.”

  “Not the Villain,” Anton said slowly. “That’s how I see myself—I didn’t think you were serious. I really am actually like that horse you’ve put money on. I’m not the villain here, you know.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m angry. I got it so wrong.…”

  Teddy heard the door bang closed and came in.

  “Okay?” he asked.

  “Teddy, if this place looked seriously like going under, would you go somewhere else?”

  “Little bitch—she told you,” Teddy said.

  “Told me what?”

  “She must have seen me or heard somehow. I went to the new hotel on the river to know if there might be a vacancy and they said they’d see. This city is worse than a small village. Lisa must have heard it from them.”

  “No, she didn’t even know about it.” Anton suddenly felt very tired. There had been something very final about the way Lisa had left the restaurant. But it was all nonsense, wasn’t it? She hadn’t been serious about any of it. Probably some of her girlfriends were settling down and getting pregnant and she felt broody. And that idea about the light lunches wasn’t a bad one at all. They could get little cards designed with some kind of logo on them. Lisa would be great at that when she stopped all this other nonsense.…

  · · ·

  Lisa walked out of the restaurant jauntily, and as she moved through the crowded streets she was aware that people glanced at her with what she thought was admiration. She wouldn’t think about what she had just said and done. She would compartmentalize things. Park this side of her life here and leave it until it was needed again. Concentrate on another side of life. This was a city full of promise, potential friends and even possible loves. She would tidy Anton away and hold her head high.

  Then, quite unexpectedly, she met Emily, who was wheeling Frankie in her buggy.

  “I’m getting her used to shopping—she’s going to spend years of her life doing it so she might as well know what it’s all about.”

  “Emily, you are funny. What have you bought today?”

  “A bedspread, a teapot, a shower curtain. Really exciting things,” Emily said.

  Frankie gurgled happily.

  “She sounds happy now, but you should have heard her half an hour ago. I wonder if she’s starting to teethe, poor thing. She was red-faced and howling and her gums look a little swollen. We’re in for a bumpy ride if that’s it,” Emily explained.

  “Sure we are,” said Lisa. “I think I’d better move out for the next few months!” and, with a smile and a hug for Frankie, she was gone.

  When Emily and Frankie got back to Number 23 it was obvious that Josie had something important to say.

  “Things aren’t great down the road,” she said, her face grim.

  That could have meant almost anything. That the takings were down at the thrift shop or Dr. Hat had put out some washing that had blown away in the wind or that Fiona and Declan were moving house. Then, with a lurch, Emily realized that Josie might be talking about Muttie.

  “It’s not …?”

  “Yes. Things are much worse.” Josie seemed unsure whether she should call on the household or not.

  Emily thought not. They would only be in the way. Muttie and Lizzie would have lots of family already. Josie accepted this.

  “I saw Father Brian going in there earlier,” she said.

  Frankie chuckled, reaching out for Emily to be picked up.

  “Good girl.” Both women spoke slightly distractedly, then each of them sighed.

  Josie was wondering whether saying another Rosary would help. Emily was wondering what would be of most
practical help. A big shepherd’s pie, she thought, something they could keep warm in the oven or whenever anyone needed food. She would make one straightaway.

  Muttie was annoyed that he felt so weak. Day and night seemed to merge, and there was always someone in the room, usually telling him to rest. Hadn’t he been resting since he came back from that hospital?

  There were so many things still to sort out. The lawyer would drive you insane with the way he talked, but he did seem clear about one thing. The tiny amount of money the Mitchell family had paid towards the upkeep of the twins years ago and that had stopped promptly on their seventeenth birthday had all been kept in a deposit account, and with it there was a percentage of Muttie’s Great Win, the time he won a fortune and they all nearly went into heart failure.

  The rest of the will was simple: everything to Lizzie and their children. But Muttie was very agitated in case the twins were not properly provided for.

  “They will be well set up when they inherit all this,” the lawyer said.

  “Well, so should they be. You see, when they came to us they gave up any chance of being in society. They were born to be with classier people than us, you see. They must be compensated properly.”

  The lawyer turned away so that Muttie wouldn’t see his face and watch him swallowing the lump in his throat.

  Father Flynn came to see him.

  “God, Muttie, and you grand and peaceful here compared to the world outside.”

  “Tell me all about what’s going on outside.” Muttie’s curiosity was undimmed, despite his illness.

  “Well, down at the center where I work, there’s all hell to pay over a Muslim wedding. This couple want one and I directed them towards the mosque. Anyway, some of the family don’t want to go to it and some do. I said we would do the catering—your grandchildren could cook for anyone—and then there’s a wing that says the center is a Catholic place and run with money from the Church. I tell you, you’d be demented by it all, Muttie.”

  “I wouldn’t mind being out in it for a bit, though.” Muttie sounded wistful.

  “Ah, you will, you will.” Brian Flynn hoped that he sounded convincing.

  “But if I don’t see it all again and I’m for the high jump, do you really think there’s anything, you know … up there?”

  “I’m going to tell you the truth, Muttie. I don’t know, but I think there is. That’s the glue that has held me together for all these years. I will be one disappointed man if there isn’t anything up there.”

  Muttie was perfectly pleased with this as an answer. “You couldn’t say fairer than that,” he said approvingly.

  And as Brian Flynn left the house, he wondered had any other priest of God delivered such a banal and bland description of the faith to a dying man.

  · · ·

  Lisa Kelly came to call again. The family weren’t sure Muttie was up to seeing her.

  “I have a secret I want to tell him,” she said.

  “Go in then with your secret—but only ten minutes,” Lizzie said.

  Lisa put on her biggest smile.

  “I have five hundred euro for you, Muttie. Not the Villain won by three lengths.”

  “Lower your voice, Lisa. I don’t want any of them knowing I’m gambling,” he said.

  “No, I told them I had a secret to discuss with you.”

  “They’ll think we are having an affair,” Muttie said, “but Lizzie would prefer that than the gambling.”

  “So where will I put the money, Muttie?”

  “Back in your handbag. It was only the thrill of winning I wanted.”

  “But, Muttie, I can’t take five hundred euro. I was hoping for an enabler’s fee of about fifty, that’s all.”

  “Spend it well, child,” Muttie said, and then his head drooped back on the pillow and Lisa tiptoed out of the room.

  Immediately, Maud went in to see him.

  Muttie opened his eyes. “Do you love this Marco, Maud?” he asked.

  “Very much. I know I haven’t had a series of people to compare him to, like you should.”

  “Says who?” Muttie asked.

  “Says everyone, but I don’t care. I’ll never meet anyone better than Marco. They couldn’t exist.”

  He put out his hand and held hers. “Then hold on to him, Maud, and find a nice girl for Simon too. Maybe at the wedding.”

  Maud held the thin hand and sat with him as he fell asleep. Tears came to her eyes and trickled down, but she didn’t raise a hand to brush them away. Sleep was good. Sleep was painless. Maud wanted Muttie to have as much of this as he could get.

  · · ·

  Muttie’s children knew it would be today or tomorrow. They kept their voices low as they moved around the house. They reminded one another of days in their childhood when Muttie and Lizzie had made a picnic with jam sandwiches and taken them on a train to the sea in Bray.

  They remembered the time of a small win, which Muttie had spent on two roast chickens and plates full of chips. And how they had always been dressed up for First Communion and Confirmation like the other children, though this might have meant a lot of visiting the pawnshop. Muttie at weddings; the dog, Hooves; Muttie carrying the shopping for Lizzie.

  They had to share all these thoughts when they were out of Lizzie’s hearing. Lizzie still thought he was getting better.

  Ita, the nurse, came that day with an herbal pillow for Muttie. She looked at him and he didn’t recognize her.

  “He’ll go into a coma shortly,” she said gently to Maud. “You might ask Dr. Carroll to look in, and the care nurses will do all that has to be done.”

  For the first time it hit Maud really hard. She cried on Simon’s shoulder. Soon there would be no more Muttie, and her last conversation with him had been about Marco.

  She remembered what Muttie had said when their beloved Hooves had died: “We all have to be strong in honor of Hooves. He wasn’t the kind of spirit that people go bawling and crying about. In his honor, be strong.”

  And they were strong as they buried Hooves.

  They would be strong for Muttie as well.

  “It’s going to be hardest knowing that he doesn’t exist anymore,” Simon said.

  Brian Flynn was having a cup of tea with them. “There is a thought that if we remember someone, then we keep them alive,” he said.

  There was a silence. He wished he hadn’t spoken.

  But they were all nodding their heads.

  If keeping people in your memory meant that they still lived, then Muttie would live forever.

  Lizzie said she was going to go in and sit with him.

  “He’s in a very deep sleep, Mam,” Cathy said.

  “I know. It’s a coma. The nurses said it would happen.”

  “Mam, it’s just …”

  “Cathy, I know it’s the end. I know it’s tonight. I just want to be alone with him for a little bit.”

  Cathy looked at her, openmouthed.

  “I knew for ages, but I just didn’t let myself believe it until today, so look at all the happy days I had when the rest of you were worrying yourselves sick.…”

  Cathy brought her mother into the room, and the nurse left. She closed the door firmly.

  Lizzie wanted to say good-bye.

  “I don’t know if you can hear me or not, Muttie,” Lizzie said. “But I wanted to tell you that you were great fun. I’ve had a laugh or a dozen laughs every day since I met you and I’ve been cheerful and thought we were as good as anyone else. I used to think we were lower, somehow. You made me think that even if we were poor, we were fine. I hope you have a great time until … well, until I’m there too. I know you’re half a pagan, Muttie, but you’ll find out that it’s all there—waiting for you. Now won’t that be a surprise? I love you, Muttie, and we’ll manage somehow, I promise you.”

  Then she kissed his forehead and called the family back in for a short visit.

  · · ·

  Twenty minutes later the palliative-care nurs
e came out and asked if Dr. Declan Carroll was there.

  Fiona phoned his mobile.

  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” he said, and somehow they sat there for a quarter of an hour until Declan arrived and went into the bedroom.

  He came out quickly. “Muttie is at peace … at rest,” he confirmed.

  They cried in disbelief, holding on to one another.

  Marco had arrived, and he was considered family for this. Some of Muttie’s Associates, who seemed to fill the house with their presence, took out handkerchiefs and blew their noses very loudly.

  And suddenly Lizzie, frail Lizzie, who had until today held on to the belief that she was going to go to Chinatown in New York with Muttie, took control.

  “Simon, will you go and pull down all the blinds, please. The neighbors will know then. Maud, can you phone the undertaker. His number is beside the phone, and tell him that Muttie has gone. He’ll know what to do. Marco, can you arrange some food for us. People will call and we must have something to give them. Geraldine, could you see how many cups, mugs and plates we have? And could you all stop crying. If Muttie knew you were crying he would deal with the lot of you.”

  Somehow they managed a few watery smiles.

  Muttie’s funeral had begun.

  The whole of St. Jarlath’s Crescent stood as a guard of honor when the coffin was carried down the road.

  Lisa and Noel stood with Frankie in her carriage and they were joined by Faith, who had heard so much about this man, she felt part of it all. Emily stood beside her uncle and aunt with Dr. Hat and Dingo Duggan. Declan and Fiona, holding Johnny close to her, stood with Molly and Paddy. Friends and neighbors watched as Simon and Marco carried the coffin. They walked in measured steps.

  The Associates stood in a little line, still stunned that Muttie wasn’t there, urging them all to have a pint and a look at the 3:30 at Wincanton.

  Somewhere far away a church bell was ringing. It had nothing to do with them but it seemed as if it were ringing in sympathy. The curtains, blinds or shutters of every house in the street were closed. People placed flowers from their gardens on the coffin as it passed by.