No Way to Say Goodbye - Anna McPartlin [27]
Sam had taken his book to bed, falling asleep some time after two. Around the same time Mary emerged from the woods, frozen inside and out. Mr Monkels had forgone his usual fourteen-hour sleep and was standing to attention by the door, ready to welcome her home as if to remind her that, despite all she had lost, she still had him. She straightened the picture of her son holding Mr Monkels on a better day. Goodnight, baby boy, your mammy loves you. She rubbed Mr Monkels’s head and he followed her upstairs. She undressed quietly and fell into bed, exhaustion taking hold. At last sleep was inescapable.
Penny continued to slug from her tumbler of vodka while flicking through TV stations, propped up by pillows, feigning interest in reruns of bad sitcoms so that she could finish the bottle. Breaking up with Adam had been hard enough but losing him to Cork City was unbearable. The neat spirit flowed down her throat like water, and it was after three when the glass fell from her hand and her head lolled forward. When she vomited, it was messy but she was safe.
Ivan was restless. He wasn’t used to being uneasy – it clashed with his nature. He was worried about his kids – a phone call earlier had left him perturbed as his son, ten and usually a smartarse, had been subdued and his daughter, seven and a chatterbox, quiet and hesitant. His ex-wife had attempted to allay his concerns, noting that they were kids and being moody was part of the deal, but she, too, had sounded off form. He wondered if she was stressed – but then again, for five days out of any month she suffered with severe PMT, during which time she could take a man’s head off if she had a mind to. It was hard to forget that the slightest infraction would induce a tearful tantrum that had to be seen to be believed.
During their stilted conversation he had casually glanced at his wall calendar and surmised that, if the pattern remained unchanged, she should have another good week of sense in her. He knew she didn’t really like talking with him. He could hear it in her voice. She was friendly and polite but it was obvious she was glad to have escaped. Although, after a nasty patch, their eventual parting had been amicable enough, she was always quick to get him off the phone. He missed his kids, even if they were moody, and in truth he missed his wife – even if she had run off with some English tourist, taking his life with her. He had never been one for television so he listened to the ticking of an old clock.
Adam returned to an empty house in time to take a call from his frosty wife. The phone rang and silence ensued because there was nothing left to say. His head hurt – it was so full of obligation and desire, love and hate, bitterness and regret. He, a winner, was in a no-win situation. His children or his lover? With no room for manoeuvre he had to do the right thing, which meant losing everything. He would miss his home, Kenmare, his parents and friends, but mostly he would miss the girl in the blue shoes, who had stolen his heart when he was eleven. When he fell asleep he dreamed of her.
6. Meeting the people
Sam woke early. He was hungry, having merely staved off starvation with his reticent neighbour’s scraps. Yet he was slow to leave his new home to venture forth into the town he had travelled so far to explore. He picked up the book that had fallen to the floor when he had dropped off to sleep. He meant to read a few pages only but he lost himself in another man’s imagination. It wasn’t unusual that he found himself comfortable in make-believe, and some would have said that, as a seasoned heroin-user, fantasy was a state to which he was well accustomed.
Next door, considering the previous night’s heartache, it was surprising that Mary’s morning had started so full of promise. She had awoken from a blissful sleep. Her son’s anniversary was behind her and the giant invisible weight had lifted from her mind. She felt bright, breezy and full of vigour. She’d even