No Way to Say Goodbye - Anna McPartlin [51]
“You’ll have a black one if you don’t shut up,” she said, getting up and striding to the kitchen.
“I was only saying!” he called.
“Yeah, well, nobody asked you,” she said, and slammed the kitchen door behind her.
Of course, seated at the kitchen table, she started to think about what he had said. She’d tried not to, even singing “Ring Of Fire” in her head to escape it, but she couldn’t because he was right. Why, after six years, was she tending bar when she had once been so full of ambition? Ben had stopped her becoming the photographer she had always dreamed of being, but what was stopping her now?
Despite Sam’s unwelcome observation, Mary had to admit it was nice having someone to take care of.
And it was nice for Sam, the guy who had painted himself as invulnerable to the world for so long while he had been silently destroying himself, to be taken care of. Like Danziger, his nurse in rehab, Mary was stronger than he was, and it felt weird being there but also good – even if he did think about the pain pills he hoarded under his mattress a little too often and even if the stupid dog, the cause of his predicament, attempted to sit on him at least twice a day.
That night Ivan shared his first official date with Sienna. They had agreed to meet for dinner in Packie’s because that was Ivan’s favourite restaurant and, a creature of habit, when he ate out his order never deviated: a herb potato pancake followed by a medium to rare steak with the softest, sweetest carrots in the world, creamy cabbage colcannon and caramelized onions on the side. He wasn’t a dessert man so that was never a factor in his choice of venue. The other places, as good as they were, didn’t offer the same menu, or not exactly, so when he’d asked her to Packie’s he hoped to God she’d like it.
When Sienna said she was happy to allow him select the wine, he panicked a little as he was not a connoisseur and to order the house wine might seem cheap. So he deferred to his helpful seventeen-year-old waitress.
They sat together in warm, low lighting, surrounded by well-dressed people. They ate slowly, concentrating on the conversation – of which neither was short.
Sienna had been living in Kenmare for six months. She was working on reception in the Sheen Falls Hotel, having worked in a number of five-star establishments. She was used to the trappings of wealth but it was apparent that she had little time for luxury. Sienna had flaming red hair, much like Mary’s, soulful brown eyes and a heart-shaped face. When they stood he had to look down. She was five six to his six four, and a hippie at heart. Beads were threaded into her hair and she sat comfortably in a dress that flowed from rather than clung to her body. On her right hand she wore two rings, on the left three, one a tiny Claddagh ring. They were all silver – she preferred it to gold.
She was two years younger than Ivan and had never been married. Her one serious relationship had lasted four years. He had left her on 6 August 1999 – her birthday – and she had not heard from or seen him since. She liked animals but didn’t own one. She had come to Kenmare because her flatmate in Adare was annoying. She knew of Ivan’s past and, although she sympathized, she didn’t fuss or make him feel like the arsehole whose wife had left him. She liked it when he talked with passion about fish. Her father was a fisherman in Galway Bay and she’d spent many a summer gutting fish on his boat. If this didn’t seem too good to be true, she loved the Waterboys. When she laughed it came from her belly, and by the end of their evening together he was desperate to shag her. They were the last to leave. Ivan thanked the seventeen-year-old for picking a feckin’ nice wine and she thanked him for a large tip.
He walked Sienna home through the busy town. Spring had arrived and with it the bars, restaurants and streets were repopulating. The stars rested over the mountain,