No Way to Say Goodbye - Anna McPartlin [68]
“Sam?” Mary whispered.
“Mary! Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. What’s wrong?” She lowered the book and beckoned him downstairs.
Inside the kitchen, he answered her: “This is what’s wrong!” He swept the room with his hand.
“So I left a mess.”
“Exactly. You don’t leave messes.”
“Well, I did last night.”
“And what about the door?”
“I forgot about it,” she admitted, picking up the vase before moving to close the french windows and standing in the pool of water. “Knickers!” she said, under her breath, and reached for the mop.
Absentmindedly, Sam sat down.
Mary raised her eyebrows. He has a neck. One minute kissing the blonde and the next sitting in my kitchen. She had convinced herself on her journey home that she didn’t care about that kiss.
“Do you often leave your back door open?” he queried.
She pushed her hair off her face. “You know I don’t.” She felt the damp curtains. “Frig it! I just had those dry-cleaned.” She moved across the room past Sam. Despite the damp, he smelt expensive. She was suddenly aware that she was wearing a pair of little black pyjama shorts and a vest top, especially now that her nipples were sticking out like bloody spare parts. She turned to the kettle, wondering whether he wanted tea and how long he was planning to stay. His closeness made her heart skip. He stood up, slipped his hand into hers and bent towards her. The impending kiss hung in the air.
She was paralysed rather like her dog had been two weeks before. Moments passed but they seemed like years. His face remained fixed at an intimate distance. Oh, holy crap! Pull away, Mary! Pull away before he does something you’ll both regret!
It was at that moment that Denis came in. His piercing eyes took in Mary while seeming to ignore Sam. He walked right up to them and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Are you coming back to bed?” he asked.
Sam dropped her hand. She battled against the urge to throw up.
Denis left his hand on her shoulder while he registered Sam. He put out the other to shake Sam’s.
Sam reciprocated while waging an inner battle of his own.
“You’re the neighbour?”
“Yes.”
“I’m the casual shag,” Denis said, and Mary closed her eyes so that she didn’t have to look at Sam’s expression.
“I should go.” Sam turned to leave.
She walked him to the door and opened it to let him out. “I’m really sorry,” she muttered.
“Don’t be,” he said cheerily, as though nothing had happened – but, then, of course, nothing had happened.
He’d pretend he hadn’t been about to kiss her and she’d pretend she hadn’t believed he was about to kiss her. His momentary lapse would be ignored by both parties. He would pretend to be grateful for the reprieve Denis had provided – after all, he wasn’t ready for a relationship or, indeed, anything other than friendship. She would pretend that she hadn’t wanted him to kiss her and that it was a good thing Denis had been there to save the moment and their friendship. Both would determine that their friendship was not worth jeopardizing.
She watched him walk out of her little front garden. Denis’s two band mates were waking from an uncomfortable sleep in the car parked out front. She motioned at them to come in for breakfast while her neighbour entered his house, closing the door behind him without glancing back. She guessed he’d seen enough for one morning.
Oh, my God, he thinks I’m a whore.
It was after nine and Penny was dreaming of a frog dancing a hornpipe on a blue carpet surrounded by GAA football players clicking their fingers.
Mary plonked herself down on her friend’s bed and she sat up, still half asleep. “What? What? What is it?