Minding Frankie (41 page)

Then Katie was ready. “Big date?” she asked.

“No. Big conversation, actually.”

“With Anton?”

“Who else?”

“You’d want to be careful, Lisa.” Katie was concerned.

“I’ve been careful for years and where has it got me?” Lisa looked, without pleasure, at her reflection in the mirror. Her pale face and wet hair showed up the dark circles under her eyes.

“We’ll make you lovely,” said Katie, who seemed to have read her thoughts.

“It would help if I looked a bit lovelier, all right.” Lisa smiled very weakly. “Listen, I want you to cut it all off. I want very short hair, cropped short all over.”

“You’re out of your mind—you’ve always had long hair. Don’t do anything reckless.”

“I want it short, choppy, a really edgy style. Will you do it or do I have to go to a rival?”

“I’ll do it, but you’re going to wake up tomorrow and wish you hadn’t done it.”

“Not if you give me a good cut, I won’t.”

“But you said he liked you with long hair,” Katie persisted.

“Then he’ll have to like me with short hair,” Lisa countered.

It was achieved in two hours: a full makeup, a manicure and a new hairdo. Lisa felt a lot better. She offered to pay, but Katie waved it away.

“Don’t say anything to Anton in a temper. Say nothing that you don’t want to stand over. Be very careful.”

“Why are you telling me this? You don’t like Anton. You don’t think he’s right for me,” Lisa asked in confusion.

“I know. But you like him and I like you a lot, so I want you to be happy.”

Lisa kissed her sister. It was a rare thing to happen.

Katie felt it was unreal. Lisa, always so prickly and distracted, had actually put her arms around her, hugged her and kissed her on the cheek.

What next?

Lisa walked purposefully towards Anton’s. This was a good time to catch him. The afternoons were easier and less fussed. All she would have to do was get rid of Teddy and hunt April off the premises if she was there, then she would talk to Anton properly.

Teddy saw her coming in but didn’t recognize her at first.

“Fasten your seat belt,” he hissed at Anton.

“Oh, God, not today, not on top of everything else …” Anton groaned.

When Lisa came in, she looked well and she knew it. She walked confidently and had a big smile on her face. She knew they were looking at her, Anton and Teddy, registering shock at the difference in her. The short hair gave her confidence; it was much lighter than before, still golden and silky. She smiled from one to the other, turning her head so that they could get a good view of her and her changed look.

“Teddy, will you forgive me—I have to talk to Anton about something for a short while?” She spoke on a rising note as if she were asking a question to which there was only one answer.

Teddy looked at Anton, who shrugged. So then he left.

“Well, Lisa, what is it? You look terrific, by the way.”

“Thank you so much, Anton. How terrific do I look?”

“Well, you look very different, shiny, sort of. Your hair is gone!”

“I had it cut this morning.”

“So I see. Your beautiful long golden hair …” He sounded bemused.

“It just covered the floor of the salon. In the olden days they used to sell their hair for wigs—did you know that?”

“No, I didn’t,” Anton said weakly.

“Oh, they did. Anyway, there we are.”

“I liked your hair—in fact, I
loved
your long hair,” he said regretfully.

“Did you, Anton? You
loved
my long hair?”

“You look different now, changed somehow, still gorgeous but different somehow.”

“Good, so you like what you see?”

“This is silly, Lisa. Of course I like it. I like you.”

“That’s it? You like me?”

“Is this Twenty Questions or what? Of course I like you. You’re my friend.”

“Friend—not
love
?”

“Oh, well, love. Whatever …” He was annoyed now already.

“Good, because I love you. A lot,” she said agreeably.

“Aw, come on, Lisa. Are you drunk again?” he asked.

“No, Anton. Stone cold, and the one time I ever did get drunk, you weren’t very kind to me. You more or less ordered Teddy to throw me out of here.”

“You were making a fool of yourself. You should thank me.”

“I don’t see it that way.”

“Well, I was the one who was sober on that occasion—believe me, you were better out of here before even more people saw you.”

“What do you think of when you think of me? Do you love me a lot or only a little?”

“Lisa, these are only words. Will you stop this thirteen-year-old chat?”

“You say you love me when we make love.”

“Everyone says that,” Anton said defensively.

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, I don’t know. I haven’t conducted a survey on it.” He was really annoyed now.

“Calm down, Anton.”

“I’m totally calm …”

“It would make this discussion easier if you didn’t fly into a temper. Just tell me how important I am in your life.”

“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.