CHAPTER 33
There was a sudden diversion. The man in the brown suit, the one the others called Declan, pushed back his chair so violently that it crashed against Franz and Ella’s table. He stood up, wheeling round, and grabbed Franz’s shoulder, his teeth bared, uttering a growling sound.
Ella gasped and the diners behind them fell silent. Only the man’s party went on roaring with laughter, locked in their own conversation, not noticing him.
Franz shot out of his chair, grasped the man roughly round the chest and appeared to grapple him to the floor.
Now the other party noticed. The man who had shouted that all women needed a good seeing to now shouted at Franz, ‘What the fuck d’ye think ye’re doing? You looking for a fight?’
‘Shut up and call an ambulance!’ Franz told him.
Only then, Ella noticed that the brown-suited man was unconscious, ashen-faced and twitching violently. The drops pouring from his forehead were definitely sweat not rain now.
Franz was supporting his weight, balanced awkwardly between their table and the man’s pushed-back chair. Ella went to help him but as she slid her hands behind the man’s shoulders, Franz said, ‘No!’ so brusquely that she held back.
Diners on other tables froze, watching in mid-mouthful. Some stood up and moved nearer to see what was going on.
‘What’s wrong with him?’ Ede wailed.
A waiter leaned over Franz’s shoulder.
‘He’s drunk?’ he asked.
‘He’s been on sparkling water all evening,’ said the man next to Franz. He was quiet now, shocked.
‘Ambulance!’said Franz.
‘Lee!’ shouted the waiter. A man in a blue suit with a badge saying Manager came running. ‘Ambulance!’
‘Okay.’ He ran to the bar and picked up the phone.
‘We move him to room at back,’ the waiter told Franz.
‘Don’t move him – pull the table away and we’ll lay him down,’ Franz said. ‘You give me a hand,’ he told the man who had shouted at him, and the man crouched down awkwardly, impeded by his bulky waistline.
‘This way,’ Franz said, gesturing with his head. Between them they laid the unconscious man down gently. Franz loosened Declan’s tie and unbuttoned his straining waistband, then checked that there was no food in his mouth that might choke him.
‘He’s breathing,’ Ella said.
The man groaned and thrashed around, flailing his arms. His face was contorted and deep red with strain.
‘Is he on medication for epilepsy?’ Franz asked.
‘He has pills of some kind,’ said his friend. ‘I don’t know what they’re for. Is it heart, Ede?’
‘How would I know?’ she retorted. She was leaning against Kathleen who appeared to be trying to console her.
‘He's been for some tests recently,’ Kathleen said. ‘His wife left him last year,’ she told Franz.
'Tests for what?' Ella asked.
'Don't know: I can't remember what he said.'
Declan groaned, opened his eyes, then closed them again.
The door of the restaurant flew open and the group parted to let the ambulance crew, a man and a woman, come through.
‘You were lucky,’ said the first paramedic. ‘We were just up the road when the call came in. Where’s the patient?’
He knelt down and put an arm round Declan’s back. Franz let go, with relief.
‘We’re here now, sir!’ the paramedic told Declan. ‘Would you all stand back, please? Give the man some air. We’re going to just examine you now, sir, OK?'
Ede was sobbing loudly, holding on to somebody's arm.
'Get him out of the circus and into the ambulance first?' the woman paramedic murmured to her colleague.
'Right,' he agreed.
She unfolded a wheelchair and they lifted Declan into it and strapped him in securely, his head lolling to one side, before wheeling him out to the waiting ambulance. His friends moved to follow him.
'Give us a few moments, please,' the man told them firmly. 'Then one of you can follow on to the hospital if you're in a good state to drive - you, sir?' he said, scanning the faces and settling on Franz.
‘His friends are over there,’ Franz said.
Declan’s friends began an argument about who should go to the hospital and who had had too much to drink.
Franz took Declan’s suit jacket from the back of the chair and handed it to the nearest man, who took it as if in a daze, then helped the waiter move the table back to its place.
‘What do we do now?’ one of the other men asked Franz.
‘Whatever you think is best,’ he said.
'I don't know what's best,' the man said. He too looked glazed.
Franz pointed to the nearest chair. 'Sit down, settle up your bill, phone a taxi to the hospital once the paramedics have finished, and decide which of you is going to go.'
'Would you go?' the man asked. 'We've all had a bit much to drink.'
Franz looked him in the eye. 'No.'
The manager came. ‘We’ll bring you drinks on the house, sir,' he told Franz. 'What would you both like?’
‘Thanks but if we could just pay and go, please,’ said Franz. He took out his credit card and Ella noticed his hands were shaking. The manager caught hold of his hand and shook it with fervour.
‘No charge, sir,’ he said. ‘Thank you for your quick action.’
‘Okay. Let’s go,’ said Franz under his breath to Ella, and she went out quickly ahead of him.
‘I’ll drive, shall I?’ she said as they walked the short distance to the car park.
‘I’m okay.’
The ambulance was parked outside, with the doors closed, engine running.
In the car, Franz's hands were still shaking as he switched on the ignition.
‘Give it a minute,’ Ella advised. She put her hand over his. ‘You reacted quickly, back there,’ she said. ‘I didn’t realize what was wrong with him. I thought he was attacking you. Why did you shout "No" at me when I went to help?’
‘He was too heavy,’ Franz said, ‘for you, with the baby.’
‘Thank you.’
Franz laid his head briefly against the wheel and exhaled. ‘I thought he’d died,’ he confessed. ‘For a moment back there, I felt his breathing stop, then he started again. Two in one day would be a bit much.’
‘One in one day is too much,’ Ella said. ‘Are you really okay?’
‘Sure.’
He started the car again and drove out of the car park.
For a moment back there, what I thought was that he was going to get that great weight off his chest and tell me what’s been stopping him from breathing freely and being himself all these years, Ella thought. But now I’ll have to wait till the moment comes again.
As they approached a green traffic light at a crossroads, a car shot across them on the red light and Franz had to slam on the brakes to avoid a collision. He swore under his breath and drove on. His hands on the wheel were shaking again.
‘Stop the car,’ said Ella, once they were safely over the junction.
‘Are you feeling sick?’
‘No. Have you got that number for Pat Quinn?’
‘Not on me. I took it down but I left it in my office. Why?’
‘Would Alison have it?’
‘She might have. If not, she could find it.’
‘Why not ring her and ask her, Franz?’
‘What’s this about?’
‘I think you should ring him.’
‘I will. Not now. I don’t feel like doing the hearty long-lost-friend chat.’
‘Good. Ring him and be real. Tell him you’ve just lost your dad and you can’t stop shaking.’
‘Ella, I haven’t seen the guy for years!’
‘How did he sound on the phone? Different from the person he used to be?’
‘No. I guess … no.’
‘Did he sound cold, formal, distant?’
‘Not at all. He said he was
keen to meet up. That we were great mates years ago.’
‘I’d say he’s just what you need. Give it a try, Franz?’
He shrugged and gave in. ‘I can try the evening receptionist.’
He dialled The Healing Place number. ‘Hi, it’s Franz. Hi, Toni. No, everything’s fine. Yes, great holiday. No, home tomorrow probably. Just a quick query for Alison. No? All right. How are things with you, Toni? Good. Great. Bye now.’
‘Try her mobile,’ Ella said.
‘I don’t want to disturb her at home. And Pat Quinn’s number will be at the office; she won’t have it with her.’
‘You said you would trust my gut instincts.’
‘I’m only humouring you because you’re pregnant,’ he warned her as he dialled.
‘I can live with that,’ Ella said.
‘Right, but I’m telling you she won’t …. Hi, Alison. Hi. No, no problem. How are you? Good. Sorry to phone you at home. Nothing urgent, but just on the off-chance – do you happen to have a number for Pat Quinn? Oh. Okay. Right. Hold on.’
Ella had taken a pen and paper out of her shoulder bag and was holding it ready. He dictated the number. She wrote it down. As he ended the call, she read it out to him.
‘It won’t be a good time to ring,’ he said, but he dialled. There was a long wait, then Franz spoke in a formal tone. ‘Hello. A message for Pat Quinn. I believe you were trying to find me. Feel free to call me on this mobile, any time. It’s … it’s Micky Finn.’
‘Thanks,’ Ella said.
‘Don’t mention it. I’m sure he won’t phone before we’re back in London, if at all …’
He stopped. His phone was ringing. Ella held her breath.
‘Hello,’ he said slowly. ‘Yes, it is. Hi, Pat. Yes, it’s fantastic to hear you as well. How are you doing? Uh-huh. That’s good. Great. Mm. Oh, not so bad. Yes, living near the job. With Ella. We’re expecting a baby. Thanks. Yes, everything’s good. Yes, that’ll be great. We’ll meet up soon. Okay. Bye. Pat? Yes, I’m still here. Pat, I just wanted to tell you – we’re on our way back from Ireland. My father died.’
He was silent then for a while. Ella could just make out a slow, quiet voice on the phone, talking to him. Franz’s shoulders began to shake. He answered in monosyllables, more like groans than words. The voice on the other end of the phone continued.
‘I’ll do that,’ said Franz finally. ‘Bye.’
He switched off the phone, sat for a minute, then started up the car again.
‘That was Pat,’ he said, unnecessarily. ‘He said to ring him when we’re on our way home. He offered either to meet us at the airport or to come over to the flat as soon as we’re back. Is that all right with you?’
Ella felt a huge sense of relief that she couldn’t explain and didn’t try to. ‘It’s fine,’ she said.
They arrived back at the hotel to find a party in full swing. As soon as they walked in the door, they were greeted with great enthusiasm by Tina and her husband Martin and their four-year old daughter Emer, who was trying to keep her eyes open and smiled with determination at everyone. Her sixteen-month old twin brothers lay asleep side by side, head to toe, in a big oldfashioned carrycot, oblivious to the noise, which was considerable.
‘I phoned all our old schoolfriends!’ Tina shouted at Franz, over the music and talk and laughter. ‘Look how many dropped everything and came to see Rachel!’
‘Fantastic!’
There were dozens of people there, Ella saw, looking through the open door to the sitting room, and more in the kitchen, and several groups sitting on the stairs.
Franz, caught up by Tina, was swept into the crowd, where Rachel’s old friends greeted him warmly – very warmly, some of them, Ella noticed. He gave her a swift apologetic look over his shoulder before Rachel came up to him, obviously happy and obviously having consumed more wine than she was used to, hugged him effusively and dragged him into the sitting room to meet more of her friends.
He had done this so often, Ella thought – usually at work, having come home wrecked with exhaustion then gone out again, back to The Healing Place or to some event connected with publicizing it. Within seconds of arriving, no one would suspect him of tiredness. He would be life and soul of the party, giving his attention to every person, drawing in the left-out ones, drawing out the shy ones, listening to those who wanted to talk, telling anecdotes to the tongue-tied, laughing at jokes.
He could keep going till morning, Ella knew, even now, grieving over his father, shaken by the incident in the restaurant and bleeding from long-ago wounds. Inside, he would go on agonizing. Outside, no one would see any sign of it. Except that Ella knew. Knew and couldn’t do what he did; couldn’t even watch him do it.
She found Mary heating up trays of snacks in the kitchen, was introduced to the few women with her, then managed to make her excuses, pleading pregnancy and tiredness, and gained their dispensation to go to bed. She stepped, smiling, past the huddles of young men and women sitting on the stairs, and let herself into the bedroom.
There would be no chance of sleep, she realized. The noise was only slightly dimmed up here, but it was joyful noise and she was happy to know that Rachel was receiving such a welcome.
Franz would be welcomed by these people as well, as her brother, even if they didn’t all know him personally. And maybe, with such events as this, and a good friend to meet him when they arrived back in London, the wounds would heal eventually, or at least the pain would recede enough to become bearable.Ella hoped so. Because if he carried on as he had done for the past eleven years since leaving Ireland, and as he was carrying on tonight – as though everything was fine and he hadn’t a care in the world – she didn’t know if she could bear it, knowing all that she did know about him now.
If she had to witness him for the rest of his life smiling and making people feel better about themselves, while bleeding and blaming himself inside, she really didn’t know if she had the character and the endurance to stay with him and watch the performance, even if that would mean leaving their unborn child without a father at home.