The Family Firm

Chapter 35

Frankie watched her husband tucking into his plate of Christmas Day left-overs over the rim of her glass of Gewürztraminer. It was only ten in the morning and she was already drinking, which was never a good sign, but unfortunately had become part and parcel of being Frankie Evans the past few years.

She couldn't believe how easily Donny had invited himself back into all of their lives. She had talked to him on and off for the past few years but nothing stable. She hadn't even told him about Junior's engagement (and why would she? Donny had not been the first person on her mind after that little announcement), so she was certain that had been her dear old mother's doing, of fucking course. And yet, he'd shown up and made a show about it. It was so fucking like him, wasn't it? All the glitz and the glamour, waltzing in like he owned the fucking place and presenting the soon-to-be-weds with a necklace from Tiffany's for the bride-to-be and a Rolex watch for her son. Her son, she was quick to remind him. As far as she was concerned, Donny was no father to Junior. He didn't even share the man's name!

Junior, frankly, was embarrassed by his mother. Normally he didn't feel this as severely as he did that morning but he was acutely aware how dishevelled she looked in front of his father, still in her silk dressing gown with her hair wild and her clunky jewellery still on from the night before.

Apart from the spare phone call or answer-phone message he hadn't heard anything from the man in years, and the first night they met in all that time his mum had been pissed and starting fights, and her attitude hadn't gotten any less sore over night. His father, of course, had slept on the sofa, but only after his grandmother Beth had practically forced him to. No want from Frankie, obviously.

His uncle Freddie had stayed the night but fucked off before breakfast. He knew that he didn't like Donny, and he also knew the reason why, for the most part. But Junior couldn't hate his father. How could he? He was his father. Even if he never really had a relationship with him, and even if Freddie was more of a dad than his actual biological father ever had been, that didn't mean he didn't crave that relationship with him.

He never asked about Donny, never in his childhood. He knew it hurt his mum too much. But now that Donny was back, he really, really wanted to make things right.

Niamh was sitting across from him and smiling as she picked at her re-heated slice of gammon joint. She was a good girl. Completely oblivious to the amount of drama that came with being (and marrying) an Evans, but she would find out soon enough, he figured.

'Why don't you sit down, Franks?' said Donny, the first word spoken to break the near-silence of silverware scraping against plates. 'Yer making me nervous, love.'

Love. Frankie sneered. 'And yer getting awful cheeky for someone whose already over-stayed his welcome, ain't you, love.'

Junior set his jaw. 'Mum, could you just sit down and be civil for once? Please?'

She looked at him a beat or two in silence before shaking her head with a scoff. 'You know what?' she began, her lips turning downward as she gestured towards her husband and son with a red-varnished nail. 'Fuck you, Donny, and fuck too, Frederick. Enjoy me delicious Christmas dinner that I slaved over all day yesterday. Merry fucking Christmas and all.'

As she quickly left the room, Niamh looked nervously to her fiancé and said, 'Should we go after her?'

Junior shook his head. 'Nah, she'll be all right. You know how women are, right Dad?'

Donny, after watching Frankie leave, turned to his son and his smile made his eyes glint. 'That I do, me boy. I do indeed.'