No Way to Say Goodbye - Anna McPartlin [86]
It was Ivan who broke the news of Sam’s exposure to him. He did so over the phone in a stilted manner that suggested his own hurt and hinted at a little anger. Sam was gracious and thanked his friend for the tip-off.
“So it’s true?” Ivan asked.
“It’s true I was a heroin addict. It’s true I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of.”
“You’re clean?” Ivan asked.
“Yes.”
“You’re not the man I’ve just read about?”
“No, I’m not,” Sam said, a little relieved that his friend was giving him the benefit of the doubt.
“You should have said something.”
“I needed not to be that guy for a while. Does Mary know?”
“Yes.”
“She hates me.”
“I don’t know.”
“Where is she?”
“She’s gone for a drive.”
“I would have said something,” Sam said, “eventually.”
“I hope for your sake it isn’t too late,” Ivan said, and hung up.
Sam sat in his sitting room. The news had acted like some sort of anaesthetic that crept through him and left him paralysed. It’s over.
Mary had called Adam from the road. “I need to see you.”
“OK.”
“Where?”
“The Gingerbread House.”
“I’ll be there in an hour. Twelve.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Adam was indeed waiting. He stood up to greet her. They hugged and sat down opposite each other. “I just got some coffee,” he said, indicating the large cafetière in front of him. “It’s still hot – I knew you of all people wouldn’t be late!” He poured her a cup.
She drank some gratefully.
“It’s good to see you.”
“You too,” she replied, taking his hand in hers. “How’ve you been?” She was concerned about her friend, whose grey face belied his carefully constructed happy-go-lucky façade.
“I’m fine.” He was obviously lying.
“I’ve had enough crap for one day. Tell me the truth.”
“Alina hates me. She’s so angry all the time. I think she’s planning on punishing me for the rest of my life.” He dropped his head to hide his face. He took a series of deep breaths and Mary gave him the room he required to compose himself. “What about Penny?” he asked, after a few minutes.
“Not good,” she disclosed, through gritted teeth.
“Drinking?”
“Heavily.”
“She’ll cut back – she always does.”
“I think it’s time we all faced the fact that Penny has a real problem.”
“Jesus,” he shook his head, “everything’s such a fucking mess.”
For a moment Mary looked as if she was about to cry.
“You know there’s nothing we can do,” he said, with resignation that came from a childhood spent watching his mother caretake an alcoholic grandfather.
“Right now I wonder if I even care,” Mary admitted.
“I read the article. Whatever’s going on, I know she didn’t do it to hurt you.”
“But she did,” Mary said, welling up.
“It’s my fault.”
“You certainly didn’t help.”
“Good old Mary. I can always count on the truth from you. I should have been a better man. Your new friend isn’t the only one to have made terrible mistakes.”
“We all make mistakes,” she whispered to herself.
“Do you think I should call her?” he asked, knowing it was the wrong thing to do.
“No,” Mary advised, “it would only make things worse and I’ve already done that.” She sighed.
“You made it worse?” He snorted. “I think we both know that any third-party responsibility for Penny’s drinking is mine, not yours.”
Mary shook her head. “I was hurt and said some things. I’m not sure there’s a road back for us.”
“Of course there is. She won’t want to lose you.”
“You think? If it comes down to me or booze, will I win?”
He looked into his cup and sighed. “Has it really got that bad?”
“I think it has,” she said.
He put his hand to his forehead and rubbed it as though he was trying to erase this new information. “If things are that bad there’s nothing any one of us can do. It’s up to her now.”
“She’s too far gone.”
“Then it’s only a matter of time.”
“Until?”
“Until she hits rock bottom,” he said, biting his lower lip.
Later, over lunch, they realized they were more depressing than a Dickens novel. Adam attempted to lighten the mood. “So you’ll forgive