No Way to Say Goodbye - Anna McPartlin [8]
And as they walked to the bathroom arm in arm, Penny asked her why life was so hard.
“Because God is a spoilt child and this world is just a game He plays to amuse Himself.”
“We’re prawns,” Penny agreed.
“Pawns.”
“That’s what I said – prawns.”
Mary helped her to sit on the loo, Penny’s pants around her ankles, not shy – they had been sharing toilet stalls since they were in their early teens.
“Mare?”
“Yeah.”
“He loves me.”
“I know.” Mary steadied her on the seat. She might not have been sure what was going on inside her friend’s head but she knew she was suffering. She’d watched her suffer for years, the victim of love.
Penny and Adam had fallen for one another at fourteen, six months before Mary and Robert had become an official couple. Back then, everything had been possible, and love, rich and fulfilling though it was, was deemed puppy-like. Deep down, they all knew that there would be life after their pubescent passion. It was a pity for Robert that he wouldn’t live past secondary school and it was a pity for Adam that Penny would move on to a college in Dublin to study journalism while he stayed at home and worked in his dad’s restaurant. After her first year, Penny had yearned for city life and he was a content country boy. Initially he had felt left behind but he was young and as keen as she was to explore other loves. Besides, he’d never wanted to be anything other than a restaurateur and there was no better place for that than Kenmare. It was a beautiful place to live, and profitable.
The father of the woman who would later become his wife was a Dutch millionaire and had spotted the town’s potential on a visit in the late eighties. He had invested in a small seaside hotel on the outskirts and, while Penny worked as a journalist in Dublin, her first love found a new life as husband, father and hotel manager at a quaint manor house. It was just a shame for Penny that the reality of city living didn’t match the fantasy – worse still that no other man could replace Adam in her heart. She had believed that love would come again but it didn’t and she was left empty and rattled. As for Adam, it was a shame that in losing Penny he had lost his belief in romance. Maybe it had ensured that he would rush into a relationship of convenience. But the greatest calamity was that, in the end, when Penny came home, it was too late.
As for Mary, well, she suffered the loss of her first love, showing great strength, and her shock pregnancy was proclaimed a miracle. Even the parish priest agreed that the child was meant to be, despite her youth and the lack of a wedding ring. Then again, less than six years later when her son was so cruelly taken, that same priest would have probably thought of her baby’s death as some sort of moral lesson. Not that any priests dared to call upon her with their views after she had punched the Archbishop in the face less than a month after her child had died.
Mary settled Penny back into bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin. Penny was out of it. “It’ll be OK,” she whispered. “Whatever’s going on, you’ll get over it.”
“I won’t,” Penny slurred – she was in fact still half awake.
“You will,” Mary told her drunken friend.
“I shouldn’t have come back!”
“Don’t be silly!”
“I don’t want to end up like you,” Penny mumbled clearly, despite her encroaching stupor.
Mary stood up. Hurt, she backed away. “No. I suppose you don’t,” she said, and closed the door. Penny would never have set out to hurt her, and if she remembered the conversation the following morning she would apologize.
Mary went to her room, upset, but Penny had a point. Mary hadn’t had a proper relationship with a man since her son had died. Before that there had been a few men but none had lasted longer than a few months. She undressed, pulled on a T-shirt and crawled into bed. Mr Monkels resented having to move over to his side of the bed and Mary knew it was ridiculous that her dog had a side of her bed, but he did.
For hours Mary lay anxious and awake. What the hell is wrong with me? Mr