No Way to Say Goodbye - Anna McPartlin [69]
Mary opened a bag of fruit scones under her nose. “I’ve got raspberry jam and fresh cream in the kitchen.”
Penny’s eyes opened slowly. “My favourite.”
Mary went to the window to open the curtains.
“You wouldn’t believe the weird dream I just had.” Penny yawned.
“I wouldn’t believe it if it wasn’t weird,” Mary said, going out of the door.
“What the hell are you so chipper about?” Penny grabbed her dressing-gown and followed.
“I had sex last night.”
“Oh, my God, either pigs have taken flight or one-dimensional Denis had his way.” Penny peered out of the window and into the bright blue sky. “No pigs. It must be Denis.”
Mary was dumping beer bottles. “Did people come back here?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Penny lied, not knowing why. Maybe because she didn’t need questions about bottles so early in the morning.
“What the hell happened to your tooth?” Mary asked.
Penny remembered that when she’d got home from the party she’d needed a drink. After a few weeks of too much wine she’d decided to buy only beer. She hadn’t been able to find the bottle-opener. After a few minutes of searching, she had become annoyed and annoyance had turned quickly to frustration. Eventually she did what anyone else would have done: she used her teeth to get the top off the bottle. Her endeavour was successful – at the cost of a cap on her left molar, bought by her parents many years previously. Now Mary scrutinized her as she felt the gap in her mouth with her finger.
“I said, what happened your tooth?”
“It’s been loose for weeks. I must have lost it when I was asleep.”
“OK,” Mary said, as though she didn’t believe her.
“Anyway, enough of that. How’s one-dimensional Denis?” Penny said, in an attempt at distraction but also because she had a genuine interest in her friend’s nocturnal activities.
“He’s not one-dimensional.”
Penny scoffed. “And?”
“He followed me home from the party.” She started to make coffee.
“And the mood just came over you,” Penny noted, shaking her head. “Well, after how many months? I suppose that kind of thing can happen.”
“Ha-ha,” Mary said, giving Penny the fingers. She knew how Penny felt about Sam, but she was desperate to talk about his possible kiss with Flory and to seek counsel on the handling of such a delicate matter – or, at the very least, confirmation that ignoring it would be beneficial to their friendship. She thought she’d test the waters.
“And do you know what else?” she asked.
“I can’t wait,” Penny responded.
“I had a late-night caller.”
“A late-night caller?”
Mary nodded.
“Go on.”
“Sam.”
“What did he want?” The warmth left Penny’s voice so Mary decided against confiding in her.
“He thought I was being burgled.”
“What a hero!”
Mary changed the subject. “You really need to see a dentist.”
“What am I like, Mary?” Penny made a face, exposing the gap.
Mary smiled but didn’t respond – the question had been rhetorical, she knew.
After breakfast they sat out on Penny’s patio, each clasping her coffee mug for warmth.
“I forgot Ben’s anniversary,” Penny admitted, gazing up at the light blue sky.
“It doesn’t matter. You had a lot to deal with.” The anniversary had been weeks before and it hadn’t occurred to Mary to be annoyed that her best friend had forgotten it. Penny had enough problems of her own.
“It does matter. I’m really sorry.”
Mary nodded. “Sam left flowers.” She hadn’t intended to mention him again that morning – it had just slipped out.
“You’re joking,” Penny exclaimed, in wonderment. “How do you know? Did he leave a card?”
“No. Cassie Boxer saw him. She told Rita Sullivan Flowers who mentioned it to Jessie after Mass a week after he came here.”
“That’s weird.”
“I know you don’t like him, but I reckon I was wrong about him.”
“It doesn’t matter what any of us think,” Penny said, eyeing her friend. “He’s just passing through. This time next year he’ll be a memory, like the Burkenheffs.”
“The Brinkerhoffs,” Mary corrected her.
“My point exactly,” Penny said, smiling, “and in the meantime I hope he and Flory are very