No Way to Say Goodbye - Anna McPartlin [85]
Penny was left shaking from her encounter with her best friend. She picked up the crumpled paper and straightened it on the table. The picture was of Mia. The story was about Mia. Sam was reduced to a footnote in the story of someone far more interesting to the public. He was merely the latest crisis that Mia had had to overcome: falling sales, a failing relationship with a man once her Svengali, then a junkie in her bed. A junkie whom she’d saved so that he could walk away from her. How Mia had suffered! How devastated she must be! How would this affect her new album? How would it affect her sell-out show at Wembley? A show that had previously been cancelled so that she could be at the side of her deadbeat boyfriend. Did his defection mean that the end of her career was in sight, or would she rise from the ashes, as the title of her first album, Phoenix, implied?
Penny realized now that the reason she hadn’t lasted in the city was because she wasn’t very good at her job. She had foolishly believed that because Sam Sullivan’s life was interesting to her it would be interesting to others. How stupid of her! Of course Mia was the story. Who the fuck was Sam Sullivan? All this time she’d worried that Sam would make a fool of Mary but in the end the only fool was her. You’re such a loser.
She cleared up the bottles. She walked around in circles, not sure what to do or what to think. Her best friend had turned on her. Mary had been venomous. She had humiliated and insulted her and, OK, she had been upset about the article but Penny hadn’t done anything to deliberately hurt her while Mary had sought to destroy Penny, trying to make out that she was an alcoholic – and maybe she was. She knew she drank too much and maybe, if she tried, she’d find it difficult to stop – or maybe she wouldn’t. Besides, Mary’s intervention hadn’t been prompted by concern: it had been an attack. She wouldn’t allow herself to concentrate on Mary’s accusations. She wouldn’t allow herself to think about them – because Mary was right. She cleaned the house, even scrubbing the bathrooms in the hope that hard labour would silence her conscience. I made a mistake. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I don’t need her. I don’t need anybody.
After Mary’s ugly encounter with Penny, she drove first without direction but later found herself heading towards Cork. From her car, as Tina Turner blasted out “Proud Mary”, which complemented Mary’s hysteria beautifully, she called Ivan.
He was halfway through the article, which his mother had left for him to read. “Turn the music down,” he ordered.
She switched it off.
“You’ve seen it,” he said.
“A fascinating read.” She laughed just enough to hint at the possibility of impending insanity.
“Are you OK?”
“I really cared about him.” She’d given up on pretence. “‘Care’… That’s a funny word. I care about Mr Monkels.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“I thought I knew him. But how could I know him? I’ve had a longer relationship with an expensive night cream.”
“It’s a lot to take in but I’m not sure any of it changes who he is now.”
“Yeah, maybe, but then again, maybe Penny’s right – maybe he’s made a fool of me.”
“Then he’s made a fool of all of us and I don’t think that’s true.”
“Heroin,” she murmured. “He told me he died once. He said he didn’t see anything or believe in anything. How could he see anything when he was off his tits?”
“He came here to get better,” Ivan reminded her.
“I always knew he wouldn’t stay. I always knew there was something. So he gets better and I get worse!” Her laughter was fat with tears. “I was OK. I was content with my lot. I didn’t care – I didn’t want to.”
“You can’t go back. You’ve come alive again, Mary. Don’t lament that,” Ivan warned. “If you thank him for nothing, thank him for that.”
“Heroin,” she repeated, in disbelief. “The article refers to him as a pathetic junkie.”
There was silence for a moment while Mary absorbed this new information. “And of all the frigging ex-girlfriends! What next? Demi Moore was his babysitter or Julia Roberts was his prom date?”
Ivan laughed