No Way to Say Goodbye (17 page)

After they had drunk a second toast to Mary’s long-departed mother, Pierre and Jessie went home, leaving Mary and her dad to tend the bar.

After a glass of wine and wearing her mother’s diamond, Mary was in high spirits when Penny arrived, bearing news of Ivan’s second date with Sienna. She had accidentally encountered them lunching in the Horseshoe. She described the woman and Mary knew instantly who she was talking about. “We use the same hair dye,” she said.

“What?”

“We had words in the chemist over the last box of dye about three months ago.”

“Words,” Penny said.

“And a slight tug of war.”

“Who won?” Penny wondered.

“She did,” Mary said, rolling her eyes. “I called her a pushy cow!”

After that Penny stayed for a drink and promised to check in on Sam. Mary was worried about him – she’d left him alone for the entire day. Ivan was supposed to have looked in but in light of his new romance she was afraid he might have forgotten.

Penny made her way up the street ostensibly on her way to Mary’s house, but before she reached the top of the town another bar lured her in. She intended to stay for only one, but then Jerry Letter bought her a drink to demonstrate that, despite his own clean record, he was not one to sit in judgement on others and Pierre, still celebrating the end of his row with Jessie, was only too happy to include the partying Penny in his round. Five drinks later she remembered the American on the floor.
Oh, Christ.
She slipped away unnoticed.

She was halfway down the hill and towards the pier when the oxygen kicked in and she felt kind of dizzy. She sat on a wall for a minute or two and concentrated on sobering up. She got up and pushed herself down the road, zigzagging all the way. By the time she reached the house she’d convinced herself that she’d recovered enough to pull off the appearance of sobriety. She opened the door with the spare key Mary had left under the hedgehog in the pot beside the door. Sam was playing his guitar but stopped when he saw her.

“Still alive, then?” she slurred.

“I’m fine,” he replied. “Where’s Mary?”

“Working,” Penny said, and burped. “She asked me to check on you.”

“As I said…” He seemed uncomfortable with her there.

“You eaten?” she asked, realizing she herself hadn’t had anything since lunch.

“Ivan brought me something.”

“Oh, good old Ivan! Even in the afterglow of a long-awaited shag he remembers those less fortunate!” She grinned while feeling for the sofa so that she could plonk herself onto it. “Always thinking of others!” She perched precariously on the edge of the sofa, and laughed. “You look so helpless.” Her grin turned into a yawn. “Maybe I should come down there.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He sounded nervous.

“I promise I won’t hurt you.” She leered at him. “You’re so beautiful.” She sighed. “I bet you get that all the time,” she nodded, “but she won’t notice… she’ll never notice, no matter how pretty you are.” She laughed to herself.

Sam remained silent, not wishing to engage with her despite his outrage.
She won’t notice me. Who? Mary? Why should I care? I don’t want her to notice me. I’m on the fucking floor, for Christ’s sake.

Suddenly Penny was on her knees leaning over him, and her hand was reaching to stroke his face. Painfully aware of his vulnerability, he pushed her away so that she fell back. She giggled and attempted to get back to her feet. “I think you need to stop drinking,” he said. “It doesn’t suit you.”

She appeared to sober up briefly and hurt was evident but suddenly her face changed colour and her hand flew to her mouth.

Oh, my God,
thought Sam,
I’m going to be vomited on.

She got up quickly and staggered to the downstairs loo. He heard her evacuate the contents of her stomach, then the flush. Minutes later she was back, wiping her face as though nothing unusual had occurred.

“You seem fine,” she said, “so I’ll leave you to it.” She let herself out of the front door before he could answer.

Mary came in after midnight and was careful to be quiet – she didn’t want to wake Sam if he’d managed to fall asleep. She had come to notice that his sleeping patterns were as erratic as her own. He spent much of any night awake, staring blankly at the TV, while upstairs she tossed and turned until she pulled a book from under her bed and lost herself in it for a while.

She had also noticed that he was not taking his prescribed pain medication. It was never going to make the difference between him recuperating or not but she wondered why he chose to hide it under his mattress rather than take it or, indeed, simply refuse it. She had found the stash, having taken the opportunity to change his bedding while he was in the loo, but hadn’t asked about it. She didn’t need to open any can of worms – life was hard enough.

It had been a long day and tonight she fell asleep instantly.

Mary was standing on an empty street. A red light glowed above her head, reflected in the rainwater pooling by the grating at the side of the road. She was wondering what she was doing there until the teenage boy with the hood concealing his face came around the corner. He was running as before and she sensed his heart beating hard. He turned in time to see the boys following. She called to him but he couldn’t hear her.

She ran out into the road with her hands up to stop the boys but they ran through her. She turned as one grabbed the hooded boy and pushed him to the ground. She watched helplessly as the blows rained down. The gang divided. Three kicked and punched him while he attempted to protect his head. A large boy, built like a bear, loomed in the middle distance. He was holding an empty vodka bottle like a tennis racket and screaming that it was his turn. Another boy was leaning against a car watching the beating and it was obvious that he was the rabble’s leader. He was surrounded by darkness. He turned to watch the large boy dance with the bottle. His slash-like mouth bled into a grin and he called to the three who were kicking. She heard him laugh as he pointed at the bear with the bottle.

“Look, Topher’s excited!” he sneered.

She looked around wildly for help but the street was otherwise empty.
Somebody please come. Somebody save him
. She ran until she saw a man and woman and willed them to turn to where the boy was being attacked but they got into a car and drove away.
Oh, God!
She ran back in time to hear the gang’s leader say, “Give Topher a go.”

The boy-bear moved in and the others made way for him, leaving the hooded boy on the ground, too injured to run. She felt his broken knuckles clutching at his face and his body curled into the foetal position to protect his balls from the oncoming onslaught – and woke with a start.

She was shaking, and her heart was racing, her pulse too. Her hair was damp and a migraine was coming on. She could hear the TV murmuring faintly through the floor. She needed to take a pill but she kept the bottle in one of the kitchen cupboards. She put on her long cardigan, the one that made her feel like Miss Marple, and made her way downstairs.

Sam looked up from the floor. “Are you OK?” he asked, concerned.

“Just a headache, that’s all,” she said, passing into the kitchen.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he remarked.

She returned with a glass of water and a pill that she popped into her mouth and swallowed.

“Stay!” he called.

She stopped.

“After all, we’re both awake,” he added.

She nodded, knowing that sleep would not come easy. She sat on the sofa and he lowered the TV volume.

“Are you getting a migraine?” he asked, as though he’d seen her medical file.

“I think I’ve caught it in time.”

“You’re shaking,” he pointed out. “What’s wrong?” Clearly it was more than a headache.

“Just a nightmare.” Without warning her eyes filled with fat tears that threatened to tumble.
Oh, my God, I’m mortified. Do not cry!
she warned herself but a rogue tear rolled towards her chin.
Knickers!

“It must have been a bad one,” he commented, evidently surprised by the tear.

“It was.”

“You want to share it?”

“No,” she said, wiping her eye.

“I have nightmares too,” he said, with unexpected honesty, “a lot. I guess that’s why I have trouble sleeping. It’s hard to sleep when you’re scared to.”

Mary was as taken aback by his candour as he had been by her tear. “It seemed so real,” she said.

“Like one of your visions?” he asked, and she eyed him, suspicious. “Ivan told me.”

“No – usually they’re pretty surreal.”

“Like the cat on the flying mat?” he said, with a smile.

“Yeah.” She laughed, then became serious. “This was like a movie and somehow I found myself in the frame.” She rubbed her forehead.

“But it’s just a nightmare, right?”

“I don’t know. I’ve had it before. It was exactly the same except this time I got to see a little more. It’s never happened like that before. Maybe it was a dream but something’s not right.” He was silent and she watched him from the corner of her eye. “You don’t believe it could be anything more than a dream, do you?”

“It’s nothing personal but I don’t believe in much,” he admitted.

“That’s OK. Penny thinks I’m a basket case – maybe she’s right.”

She warmed some milk for them both and they chatted freely. Sam admired her diamond necklace and she told him about her day spent remembering her mother. She shared some of the tales her father had told her and he talked about his grandmother. In the telling, he inadvertently revealed his nerdy origins.

“I can’t see it.” She laughed.

“Well, trust me. My teenage years were a nightmare.”

“You’re not alone.”

“Oh, shit, sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She smiled. “It was pretty good up to the coma, dead boyfriend and freak pregnancy.”

He laughed and she stood up. “I should get back to bed. I’m in the bar first thing and you have a full day on the floor ahead of you.”

“Actually, I’m booked in with the Bone Man. Ivan set it up earlier.”

“Good for you.”

“You think it’s the right thing?” he asked, betraying a little panic.

“You’ve got nothing to lose.”

“Well, except for the ability to walk.”

“You’ll be fine,” she soothed.

“Thanks for taking care of me.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, with new warmth. She stopped to straighten the picture of Ben and Mr Monkels, then made her way up the stairs and back to her bed.

13. Rear window, hard ground

Although Sam was capable of straightening and, with great difficulty, assuming the seated position, the pain that followed was so excruciating that it brought tears to his eyes. Mary wanted to insist he take his medication but thought better of it.

Ivan tried to take his friend’s mind off his discomfort with what his own mother often described as idle chatter. His description of Sienna’s performance in bed got them to the other side of Killarney. “Jesus, she’s a wonder!”

Sam laughed despite the pain.

“I tell you, my balls could have been on fire and my wife wouldn’t have licked them,” Ivan continued happily.

Sam wondered what woman in her right mind would lick balls that were alight.

Ivan was rubbing his nose on his sleeve. “Jesus, she’s a wonder!” he repeated. “And as for positions!” He slapped the steering-wheel. “Jesus, she must come from circus folk!”

“I’m happy for you,” Sam said. “She sounds like she could be the one.”

“I tell you, it’s a wonder I don’t have to visit the Bone Man myself!” Ivan turned onto a long and winding road that seemed too narrow for the car, not to mind the oncoming one, but he was used to it and carried on unconcerned.

Later Sam asked if he had called his wife.

“This morning.”

“And?” Sam asked, curious as to whether Mary’s vague premonition had any merit.

“And,” Ivan said, “she told me I had some ego for an eejit. Apparently I’d be the last person in hell she’d call out for.” He sniffed, wrangling with the glove-box in the quest for tissues. “Feckin’ hay fever.”

“So Mary was wrong?”

“She is not,” Ivan said, blowing his nose.

“You still think your wife wants you?”

“Oh, she doesn’t want me but she might need me because there’s something wrong. I know that much.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Well, I’ll wait until the kids come for Easter and I’m going to ask them,” he said matter-of-factly, and turned into a farmyard. “We’re here.”

Sam couldn’t conceal his concerns when it emerged the Bone Man was in fact a farmer and his surgery was a table in the back of a barn. But Ivan swore by him and Sam was only hours away from submitting to the painkillers prescribed by the GP – or, at the very least, smoking the cannabis Mossy had so generously offered when he had called in to apologize to Mary for being too off his head to help with the dog. Sam knew he couldn’t risk taking any drug, prescribed or not. He couldn’t be any worse off, he’d thought – until he met the Bone Man. He had hands the size of shovels, wild curly hair and a big beard. He reminded Sam of one of the crazy homeless guys in New York. He did as he was told, though, because the guy was six eight and almost as wide. In the end it took only a moment. He heard a loud click, felt an excruciating pain that lasted one second and then relief. The effect was much like heroin.

Sam wasn’t dancing a jig like Tommy the Coat but he was home and back in his own bed that night. Although he was happy to return to isolation he found himself missing Mary. In the absence of the TV he had grown accustomed to, he turned his full attention to the guitar he had previously only tinkered with. It had been odd that he had been so comfortable playing in front of Mary. His ex-girlfriend had begged him to play many times, but he had refused. Then again Mia was a world-renowned recording star and Mary tended a bar so he guessed it was most likely something to do with that. He didn’t have anything to prove to Mary, and even if he’d felt he did, she wouldn’t have given a shit. He’d felt good when she’d stopped to listen to his version of Bonnie Raitt’s “I Can’t Make You Love Me”. To him, it had sounded shoddy but she hadn’t noticed or maybe she just hadn’t cared. It was nice.