Minding Frankie (42 page)

“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 nurse 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.

Then there was a hearse and funeral cars waiting to take the funeral party to Father Brian Flynn’s church in the immigrant center.

Muttie had left very definite instructions.

Marco worked in Muttie and Lizzie’s kitchen, producing platters of antipasti and bowls of fresh pasta. Lizzie had said he was not to hold back. He had brought forks and plates from his father’s restaurant.

Though Muttie had given Marco permission to ask Maud to marry him, he wouldn’t—not until she had stopped crying for her grandfather. Then he would ask her. Properly. He wondered would he and Maud be as happy as Muttie and Lizzie. Was he enough for her—she was so bright and quick.

There was a picture of Muttie on the wall. He was smiling as usual. Marco could almost hear him saying, “Go on there, Marco Romano. You’re as good as any of them and better than most.”

·   ·   ·

It was true what they had been saying: if people remember you, then you’re not dead. It was very comforting.

At the church, Father Flynn kept the ceremony very short. One Our Father, one Hail Mary and one Glory Be to the Father. A Moroccan boy played “Amazing Grace” on a clarinet. And a girl from Poland played “Hail, Queen of Heaven” on an accordion. Then it was over.

People stood around in the sunshine and talked about Muttie. Then they made way back to his home to say good-bye.

Properly.

Everyone in St. Jarlath’s Crescent was the poorer after Muttie’s death, and people tried to avoid looking at the lonely figure of Lizzie standing by her gate, as she always had. It was as if she were still waiting for him. Of course, everyone rallied round to make sure that she wasn’t alone, but one by one her children went back to their lives in Chicago and Australia; Cathy went back to her catering company. The twins were busy working at Ennio’s and deciding on their future.

Everyone was slowly getting back to life, but with the knowledge that Lizzie had no life to get on with.

One night she might be invited to Charles and Josie’s, but her eyes were far away as they talked of the campaign for the statue. Sometimes she went to sit with Paddy and Molly Carroll for an evening, but there was a limit to what she could listen to about Molly’s work at the thrift shop or Paddy’s confrontations at the meat counter. She had no tales of her own to tell anymore.

Emily Lynch was sympathetic company; she would ask questions about Lizzie’s childhood and her early working days. She took Lizzie back to a time before Muttie, to places where Muttie had never walked. But then she couldn’t expect Emily to be there all the time. She seemed to be very friendly with Dr. Hat these days. Lizzie was glad for her but at the same time she mourned Muttie.

There were so many things she wanted to tell him. Every day she
thought of something new: how Cathy’s first husband, Neil, had come to the funeral and said that Muttie was a hero; how Father Flynn had blown his nose so much they thought he might have perforated an eardrum and how he had said the kindest things about Muttie and Lizzie’s wonderful extended family.

Lizzie wanted to tell Muttie that Maud would be getting engaged to Marco and that Simon was happy about it and was still thinking of going to New Jersey. She wanted to discuss with him whether she would stay on in the house or get a smaller place. Everyone advised her that she must make no decisions for at least a year. She wondered would Muttie think that was wise.

Lizzie sighed a lot these days but she tried to smile at the same time. People had always found good humor and smiles in this house, and it must not change now. It was when she was left alone in their little house that the smiles faded and she grieved for Muttie. She often heard his voice coming from another room, just not quite loud enough for her to hear what he said. When she made tea in the morning, she automatically made a cup for him; she set a place for him at mealtimes, and the sadness of it filled her with desolation.

Her bed felt huge and empty now, and when she slept, she did so with her arm around a pillow. She dreamed of him almost every night, sometimes good dreams of happy days and joyful times; often they were terrible dreams of abandonment, loss and sorrow. She didn’t know which was worse: every morning she woke afresh to the knowledge that he was gone and he would never come back. It would never be all right again.