No Way to Say Goodbye - Anna McPartlin [110]
“You’re doing really well,” the nurse said.
“Easy for you to say,” she said, to both of the woman’s heads.
Day three was even tougher. She lost track of time. Her eyes leaked something that felt like pus and her body shook. The seizure took hold that evening but Penny was so out of it she had to be told about the incident rather than having any memory of it. By day four she was over the worst. She still had the symptoms but they were milder and the IV fluids and tranquillizers were helping. She had been allowed out of her bed on days four, five and six.
Now, a week on, she sat in a hospital corridor dialling a number she hadn’t dialled in a long time. She figured she’d have to leave a message and was quite surprised when her mother answered. “Hello,” she’d said breezily, as though she’d expected a call.
“Mum,” Penny said, “it’s me, Penny.”
“Penny! It’s been an age, darling. How are you?”
“Fine,” she said.
“Good,” her mother replied. “Your father was only talking about you last week, saying we should all get together soon. There’s a Law Society function in a few weeks and we’ve got a spare ticket.” She laughed. “There’s a few tasty treats attending, I don’t mind saying!”
“I’m not looking for a man,” Penny said.
“Of course not – let them look for you. Right? How’s all in Kenmare? I really am sorry we got rid of the house but who knew then that bloody prices would soar?”
“Mum.”
“Yes, dear?”
“I’m an alcoholic,” Penny said, for the third time that day.
“What?” Her normally unflappable mother sounded a little flustered.
“I’m in a hospital in Dublin.”
“Good God!”
“Mum?”
“Yes?”
“Do you love me?”
Her mother took a moment to answer. As a solicitor, she was trained to absorb all the information in a case before she responded. “Is this our fault?” she asked.
“No. It’s mine. I just want to know.”
“Of course I do. You’re my child. I may not be Mary Poppins but I love you with everything in me.”
“Mum?”
“Yes.”
“Can we try to talk more?”
“Absolutely.” Her mother sounded a little shell-shocked.
“Good,” Penny said, relieved.
“Do you want us to come and see you?”
“No, but thanks for asking.” She smiled to herself.
“I love you. Your father loves you.”
“Thanks, Mum,” Penny said. She put down the phone and went back to her room.
In the short time Norma had been home she had slipped back into the centre of Ivan’s life, ably assisted by her children. Her intention was not to get in the way – on the contrary – but her mere presence had already ended his burgeoning relationship with Sienna. Norma had been upset by this news but he had told her it had nothing to do with her homecoming: the relationship had simply run its course. He had known that Norma living under his roof, roaming the corridors in a nightgown and making breakfast while his new girlfriend was ringing the bell, like a kid wanting a friend to come out and play, was never going to work. But he had asked his wife to stay because that was best for his kids.
His mother watched Ivan’s wife entwine herself into the fabric of his life and worried for her son. She asked Norma to join her for a coffee in Jam on the pretext of catching up. Norma was no fool and prepared herself for her mother-in-law’s interrogation over tea and scones.
“I see you’re doing his washing now?” Sheila said, having witnessed Norma separating Ivan’s dark from white smalls.
“Well, I might as well, seeing as I’m doing my own and the kids’.”
“He’ll miss that when you go.”
“I’m sure he’ll cope.” Norma smiled.
“I wish I was. He had a nice thing going with Sienna.”
“He said it had run its course.”
“He lied,” his mother said. “Norma?”
“Yes?”
“He has strong feelings for that girl. He might even love her but he would still take you back in the morning.”
“You’re so sure?”
“He’ll do what he thinks is best for his family. I’m his mother, and I know.”
“What do you want me to say?” Norma asked, taken aback.
“Say you’ll do nothing to