No Way to Say Goodbye - Anna McPartlin [108]
The junkie was crying and begging, “Don’t, man! I’m sorry. You don’t know!”
But Sam did know. He knew he wanted the fucker dead. “I’ve paid for it – I’ve paid for it a hundred times!” the junkie cried.
“Not enough.” Sam kicked him so hard in the nuts that the guy vomited.
“I’m a dealer! I can sort you out – I can keep you going, man,” the junkie shrieked, and Sam stopped kicking him.
Just like that.
Ivan was sitting on the sofa with his daughter asleep on his lap. Chris was on the chair and they were watching a show about football. Norma was in the kitchen, making the kids’ favourite biscuit cake. The doorbell rang and Chris got up.
Seconds later Sienna was in front of Ivan. He stood up, forgetting that his daughter’s head was resting on his lap. “Dad!” she cried, rubbing her eyes.
“Sorry, Button.”
He hugged Sienna, who seemed a little stiff. Later, when the kids were in bed and Norma had made herself scarce, they sat in the kitchen together.
“I haven’t heard from you,” she said.
“We keep missing one another.”
“We never used to.”
“It’s been chaotic. I’m trying to find Norma a place with the kids, there’s been madness with Penny and it’s just –” He stopped.
“Maybe we should cool things for a while,” she said.
“I don’t want to.”
“You’ve got your family back, Ivan,” she said sadly.
“But I want you,” he said, and she rested her head on his chest.
“I know, but I think this is a case of bad timing. Maybe when things settle down…” Then she added, “You’re a good father, Ivan, and a good man.”
“I’ll work it all out,” he promised.
“I know.”
“I love you.”
“I hope so,” she said.
He walked her to the door and watched her leave.
You can’t have it all.
25. To know you is to love you
The funeral was lovely. Dick Dogs had been one of Kenmare’s best-loved. His greyhounds had won many a race and those who’d backed them had profited time and time again. In his early years he’d been a fixture in many a local pub. He had always enjoyed a pint but, unlike some, he’d known when it was time to go home. He was kind too, always having time for those less fortunate than himself. He’d never married, which was a pity because most would say he’d have made a good husband. Everyone agreed that it was his time, though. He was the last of his generation to go. His friends had led the way and he had said openly that he was looking forward to seeing them again. He had died early in the morning just before the sun rose. He hadn’t suffered, just stopped. Paula Dubury had found him, cold but with a smile on his face.
“What were you dreaming, sweet man?” she’d asked. If his corpse had had the power of speech he would have told her that, just before he left this world, he had relived a time when he was a young man and he and his best friend David Breslin were standing at the back of a dancehall watching the girls line up in their Sunday best, their hair fresh out of curlers.
Dick had winked at Lena, who shook her head and wagged a finger.
David had laughed at his high ambition. “She’ll never be yours,” he said.
“But she could be,” Dick had responded.
“She’s leaving,” David whispered.
“And where would she be going?” Dick had queried.
“We’re sending her away.”
“Away?” Dick repeated.
“My mother’s got it in her head that she’ll marry Joseph Dunne.”
“But what about me?” Dick asked.
“What about you?” David responded. “She wants something else and what Lena wants Lena gets. She doesn’t know it yet but she’s leaving tomorrow.”
“You’re killing me,” Dick said, and his friend had laughed.
“Take your dance. It’ll be your last,” David said, not knowing how prophetic his words were. Halfway through it, the old man reliving the memory breathed his last.
The funeral was held two weeks after Norma’s home-coming. She had kept a low profile and Dick Dogs’s funeral would be her reintroduction into Kenmare society. She didn’t feel ready, still bruised and broken, yet she had always been