No Way to Say Goodbye (19 page)

Sam played his guitar for two days straight until his hand was so stiff it was difficult to hold a fork. He hadn’t seen Mary in those two days but she had made sure that he left her home with enough food to last him a week. Now he was looking forward to seeing her again. She had been such a surprise to him. The nights he’d spent on her floor had been illuminating. His once-frosty neighbour was warm and natural, not like most of the women he’d known, who were mostly too busy holding in their stomachs to be able to engage with him. She engaged, looking straight through his eyes and into his soul. He knew it would be difficult to hide anything from her.

14. Every day is like Sunday

Ivan woke with his seven-year-old daughter sitting on his chest. He opened one eye playfully, closed it and opened the other. She giggled. He raised his arms and she held on to them, lifted his legs and her feet met his. Suddenly she was suspended in the air, screaming and laughing. He dropped her onto the bed and she curled up beside him. “Happy Easter, Dad!”

“Happy Easter, Justy! Where’s your brother?”

“Down by the water.”

Chris, a ten-year-old who could have passed for thirteen, loved the water just like his dad. Ivan knew his son missed it in his new home and felt sorry for him.

“Eggs?” he queried.

“An omelette, with mushrooms, ham and cheese, and Granny Sheila’s brown bread,” Justine demanded.

“You don’t ask for much!” Ivan ruffled her hair, happy that he’d stocked up.

Sitting in the kitchen she chatted about Granny Sheila and her twin cousins, and Auntie Mary, who’d promised to take her to Killarney to buy something pretty. Ivan attempted to question her about her new world but she remained closed off.

“Is everything OK with your mother?” he asked eventually.

She shrugged her shoulders and pretended to smile.

“Justine. Answer me. Is everything OK?”

She looked a little nervous, playing with the sugar bowl, and he could have sworn a tear sprang into her eye.

Chris opened the back door and came in rubbing his hands. “I could smell that omelette from halfway up the yard!” he said gleefully.

Justine laughed and Ivan winked at his son, happy his children were with him and temporarily forgetting his concern. After all, it was Easter Sunday and, for the first time ever, his mother had excused her children from their obligatory Sunday meal in favour of Ivan hosting a family barbecue to welcome his children home.

Ivan had missed out on most of his kids’ lives. It wasn’t just his wife’s defection. A house and lifestyle like Ivan’s didn’t come from a fisherman’s pay packet. As a teenager, when he had discovered Norma’s pregnancy, he had had two choices: the first was to be poor and a full-time father, and the second was to train as a commercial diver, work in Saudi and make a mint. He’d already completed advanced diving courses during several summers while his brothers played football and hurley. The reality had meant leaving his young family for an oil rig off the Red Sea coast and working in hazardous conditions – but the pay reflected the danger, and if they were to have any kind of life, it was a risk worth taking. He had left his new wife and his baby boy to live on an oil rig.

He worked on it for four years straight, only returning when his nephew had died on a swing. Ivan had missed most of Ben’s life and was shocked into deciding that he wouldn’t miss the lives of his own children. He came home, bought a large house, a small boat, a number of properties in Cork and a few stocks and shares. He’d made it, and initially his wife seemed happy. After years of sustaining family life alone, her husband had returned. It should have been good. It wasn’t. They were strangers, having grown up apart. Their break-up was assured but he hung on to the love they had once shared, desperate not to lose the kids he’d only just regained.

Sam had been surprised that his relaxed friend had once been a risk-taking daredevil, but to Ivan commercial diving had only ever been a job. Of course he’d have been lying if he didn’t admit it was an adrenalin-charged and exciting way to earn a living – life-threatening activity usually is – but he didn’t miss it. Diving had been a means to an end. He liked to fish, and diving for a few years, then making the right investments, would ensure that he could do just that for the rest of his days.

It was just a shame he’d lost his family in the process.

Penny sat in her living room, music blaring. If she had been more like Mary it would have been in tune with her mood but she wasn’t – so, despite her desperation, Britney belted out “Hit Me Baby One More Time” while she slugged back a bottle of white wine. Red would have left tell-tale marks but white, if not her favourite tipple, didn’t betray her.

She had attempted to get out of attending Ivan’s barbecue to no avail. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. He was in the mood for celebration and he felt it was as good a day as any for his friends to get to know his new girlfriend. Penny felt a little unwell, and the cause of her illness was jealousy, an unattractive quality she often battled.

However, her main reason for trying to escape Ivan’s party had less to do with his new girlfriend and more to do with Mary bringing Sam. She had avoided the American since her drunken attempted pass – she was monumentally embarrassed by it, and felt cheap and dirty and exposed whenever she thought about it. He had rejected her and had looked at her with the kind of horror reserved for circus freaks. In his eyes she had transmogrified into something grotesque.

The next morning she had awoken hating herself, but within hours and in the company of a stiff drink she had mentally dumped her self-loathing on Sam. After all, who the hell did he think he was? If Adam hadn’t abandoned her, she wouldn’t have looked at him twice. He fancied himself. It was then she decided he was an arsehole and a jumped-up arsehole at that. She didn’t want to see him – she’d have to make polite conversation with him. She couldn’t believe he and Mary had become friends over the past number of weeks. It was as though they’d done it to spite her. Just when she needed her best friend most, some stranger rolled into town and stole her away.

She finished the dregs of the bottle. It was the least she deserved.

Mary and Sam were up early so that they could fit in a few hours’ tree-tagging before they headed to Ivan’s. It had been the third afternoon in a row that Mary had joined Sam in his quest to find his grandmother’s message.

At first he had been reluctant to share his pastime with his neighbour, but when he discovered that half the town was surmising he had some form of autism that related to trees, he explained himself to Mary.

Mary had grinned.

“What?” he’d asked, expecting sarcasm.

“Nothing.”

He was freaked by her inane grin.

“It’s nice, that’s all. I hope you find her.”

“She’s dead. I’m not looking for her.”

“Whatever.” She was laughing now. Eventually she asked if she and Mr Monkels could join him on his quest.

It worked very well. They talked and Mr Monkels groaned and halfway through that first day, when Sam pointed to light streaming through a parting in a cloud, Mary got out her camera and took her first photograph in six years.

It was Sam’s turn to be smug.

“What?” she asked.

“You took what I said to heart,” he said.

“No, I didn’t,” she lied.

“Yeah, you did.” He chuckled, so she pushed him.

After that she took a lot of photos – of Mr Monkels resting at the base of a tree, one of Sam running his hand over the bark and another of him hiding his face from her incessant clicking. A bird swooping low over still water was her favourite, or that was what she would tell people: actually it was one of Sam giving her the fingers. When they’d got back he’d helped her change her spare bedroom into a darkroom.

“Haven’t you heard of digital?” he asked, while he gaffer-taped blackened cardboard to the window.

“One step at a time.” She was grappling with the old black-velvet curtains her auntie Sheila had made for her, long ago.

Now the weather was getting warmer. Today Mr Monkels had refused to budge when Mary had attempted to attach him to his lead. Instead he lay inside the french windows soaking up the heat against the glass.

Mary wished Sam a happy Easter, to which he grunted a response, and teased him about attending a service. He reiterated that he didn’t do Mass.

“Me neither.”

“But you believe in God,” he said, his tone suggesting he thought she was crazy.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t get it.” He took her hand to help her up a grassy verge.

“What’s to get?” she asked, amused.

“With the way things have gone for you, it must have crossed your mind that He may have it in for you.”

He was right – there had been a time when she’d believed that the Almighty was an arsehole, but one day that had changed. “A very wise woman told me once that the world doesn’t revolve around me.”

He arched an eyebrow questioningly.

“She said that those who had gone before had merely followed their own path rather than being a casualty on mine.” She shrugged her shoulders. “We’re all just visiting this world. Some stay longer than others.”

“I hope for your sake you’re not going to be disappointed.”

“About what?”

“What if I told you that I’d died?”

“You
died
?”

“It was only minutes but long enough for me to know there’s nothing.” He was puzzled when she smiled.

“Ask me about what I remember during my coma,” she said.

“What do you remember?” he asked, playing along.

“Nothing,” she said. “Absolutely nothing.”

“So?”

“So it doesn’t mean there wasn’t anything going on.”

“It’s totally different.” He sighed.

“No, it’s not.”

“I just don’t get why you would believe,” he mumbled.

“Because if I didn’t I’d lose my mind.”

He nodded – that answer made sense to him.

Later, while they were making their way home, Mary returned to the subject of Sam’s death. “Are you ever going to tell me about what happened to you?”

“Maybe some day.”

She smiled. “It would be easier to get a straight answer from James Bond.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t like talking about the past.”

“I understand. Some join the Foreign Legion and others come to Kenmare.”

It occurred to Sam then that one of the things he liked most about Mary was that, although she knew little about where he’d come from, what he did for a living or the terrible mistakes he’d made, she did know him. In fact, she knew him better than anyone else.

It was after three when they arrived at Ivan’s. Auntie Sheila and Mary’s dad were vying for control of the grill. Mary kissed them both, her dad shook Sam’s hand and her aunt told him that if her niece didn’t have such a good left hook she’d steal him away for herself.

“We’re just friends,” Mary told her, for the fifth time.

“That’s what they always say, and then someone gets pregnant,” her aunt riposted, and nudged her brother.

“We’re just friends,” Sam clarified, before Ivan called him over to join in a game of football he was having with his son and his brother Séamus, who was running around the garden having the time of his life without his wife and twins. As luck would have it, one of the girls had been struck down with chicken-pox earlier in the week. Séamus had never had it, and while they waited to see if the spots would appear on her sister, the doctor had advised him to stay out of harm’s way. To this end, he had moved in with his parents and was determined to make the most of his limited freedom.

Mary found Penny sitting at one of the garden tables toasting with Steven and Barry.

Steven jumped up to greet her. “Mary, you look like a diva.”

“Isn’t that your way of calling me a bitch?” She smirked.

“It’s his way of telling you to take it easy on the hair dye,” Barry informed her. “Or are you trying out for the Pussycat Dolls?”

Mary gave him a dig as Penny threw her head back, laughing.

“And you’ve competition,” Steven said, throwing his eyes in the direction of Sienna and a blonde friend, who was helping her carry sauce bottles and condiments.

“Two redheads, but who is the reddest of them all?” Steven said, in his movie-trailer voice.

Mary looked at Penny. “You told them about the hair-dye incident.”

“We heard it was more like a pushing-and-slapping affair,” Barry put in.

Mary moaned. “Who’s the blonde?” she asked, gesturing at Sienna’s friend.

“Her name is Flory,” Steven grinned, “as in Floor E.”

“You’re messing,” Mary reproved him, but Barry and his boyfriend Steven shook their heads.

“And here’s the best bit,” Barry added. “The lovely Sienna has brought her along as a potential date for your new neighbour.”

Penny started to laugh, which struck Mary as unkind although she wasn’t sure why.

“Well, I wish her the best of luck,” Mary said, as Steven stood up and took her arm so that they could walk to the makeshift bar together.

“Don’t worry, she hasn’t a patch on you,” he whispered.

“We’re just friends,” she said, for the umpteenth time, and sighed.

Their friendship had been agreed upon over a meal in a local restaurant, which the hovering waitress, Minnie Morrow, had made uncomfortable by offering the new couple a free bottle of wine. Mary had tried to explain that her neighbour was merely thanking her for taking care of him during his convalescence to which Minnie had commented, “I bet you did,” then leaned in to Sam and whispered that if it didn’t work with Mary of the Sorrows he’d know where to find her.

When Minnie had gone, Mary had said, “Don’t worry, I’m not looking for a relationship.”

“Right back at ya,” Sam had replied.

“I knew that. I just didn’t want you to think I was sitting here with any expectations. I’m happy as I am.”

“Me too,” he had said, and raised his glass. “Here’s to friendship!”

“Friendship,” she’d echoed happily.

Mary made peace with Sienna over a hot dog, and told her how happy she was making Ivan. It was true – Ivan was like a playful puppy. When his wife had walked out, he’d lost his confidence as well as his family and Sienna had restored it so Mary was grateful to her. Ivan had put his arm around his favourite cousin and toasted his friends and family, while Justine sat on her grandmother’s knee and Chris sneaked a sip of his uncle’s beer.