No Way to Say Goodbye - Anna McPartlin [45]
He walked into the sitting room and Mary followed him with his tea.
“We’re going to need a fairly hard mattress. You’ll have to move the sofa but he’ll be fine here for a few days,” he said, taking the mug from her.
“Excuse me?” she asked, alarmed.
“What?” Sam shouted, from the kitchen.
“Well, you’ll hardly send him in next door.”
“Why not? That’s where he lives,” she whispered.
“I’m not staying here!” Sam shouted.
“He can’t be left on his own, Mary girl, and, besides, you have a downstairs bathroom.”
Silently Mary cursed her extension.
“I am not staying here!” Sam shouted, despite the pain it caused in his lower back.
“Do you have a suitable mattress?” Dr Macken asked, ignoring all objections.
Mary rolled her eyes, much as she did each time he tapped her head and made some annoying comment about her metal plate.
Dr Macken was assisting Sam into the sitting room while Mary wrestled the mattress from the spare room down the stairs.
“Oh, that’ll do nicely!” the doctor remarked.
Sam was a whiter shade of pale. Dr Macken resumed a conversation with his patient to which Mary had not been a party. “You either take the muscle relaxant or you end up in this particularly amusing stance for the rest of your days.”
“Not until you tell me what’s in it.”
“Is there something in your medical history you’d like to share with me?” Dr Macken asked.
“No,” Sam replied.
“And you’re not allergic to anything?”
“No,” Sam confirmed.
“Then take the pill.”
The doctor held the glass of water in front of him and he swallowed the tablet and drank until the glass was empty.
“Good,” Dr Macken said.
He helped Mary to move the sofa, and when the mattress was dressed, he reintroduced Sam to the art of lying down, ably assisted by his unwilling aide, Mary, who was charged with providing cushions to prop up the patient’s knees. “As he loosens up, take away the cushions,” he ordered.
She responded with a heavy sigh. Sam covered his face with his hands and inhaled deeply.
“Well, I can see this little sleepover is going to go beautifully.” Dr Macken laughed. “Hah, Robocop, I’d say it’s a match made in heaven!” Dr Macken turned to Sam. “It’s a wonder she can’t pick up a few more channels on that thing,” he said, pointing to her head while she pursed her lips to stop herself telling him to make himself scarce. Sam snickered a little. Dr Macken softened. “Still, it’s a wonder she’s with us at all!” He smiled at his toughest patient, then became serious. “Any headaches since I last saw you?”
“No,” Mary said, embarrassed by the question in front of a stranger.
“You’re due a scan,” he said.
“I know.”
“I’ll make the appointment,” he said, picking up his bag.
“OK.” She walked towards the door. Thankfully, he followed her.
“I’m giving you a prescription for painkillers.”
Sam called from the floor. “What’s in them?”
Dr Macken laughed. “Don’t worry, just a little opioid – they won’t kill you.”
He probably thinks I’m one of those health freaks he reads about, thought Sam, the kind of guy who dates in oxygen bars and whose idea for a great weekend involves colonic irrigation. Sam knew he couldn’t touch an opioid unless he wanted to end up an addict again and right back where he’d started. This meant that he’d be in pain without relief. I’m on the fucking precipice.
On the morning following Adam’s departure from Kenmare something clicked in Penny and she emerged from her booze-laced cocoon. She had been drinking for three weeks straight and, like a reluctant genie, it took courage to emerge from the bottle. She had hidden away and licked her wounds, and her friends had given her the space to do so, knowing that Penny liked to do things her way. But they were unaware as to what exactly her way entailed.
She had spent the greater part of her day cleaning herself and then her house until she felt there was no visible trace of her transgression. Her clean start was tiring work but it kept her mind off the fact that Adam was gone. She’d avoided Mary’s five calls. Later she packed her car boot with empty bottles