No Way to Say Goodbye - Anna McPartlin [94]
Sam was the last person to welcome her. It had been almost six months since he had nearly died of a heroin overdose and just over three months since he had ended his relationship with Mia, but now, seeing her face and feeling her arms wrapped around him, it felt like an entire lifetime had passed. She was a stranger with a tight grip. He pulled away and suggested he should take her back to her hotel but Mary and Ivan insisted she stayed, at least to finish her wine. They all went into the house, where Ivan found two more glasses and told the kids to watch TV in the sitting room. Then he joined Sam, Mary and Mia Johnson sitting around Mary’s kitchen table sipping white wine. He was beaming like a kid at the circus.
“Mr Mockless?” Mia was saying, rubbing Mr M’s back.
“Monkels,” Mary corrected her.
“Weird name.”
“Originally he was called Norman,” Ivan said, still beaming.
“What changed?” Mia asked, intrigued.
“One day when my son was three years old he decided that Norman didn’t work and Mr Monkels did.”
Ivan laughed. “The strange thing is, the dog immediately responded to it.”
“It was like he’d always been Mr Monkels,” Mary added. “It just fitted.”
“It’s a cool name,” said Mia. “Your son has good taste. So where is he?”
“He died,” Mary said.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Mia was covered with embarrassment.
Sam stood up. It was obvious he was uncomfortable. “We should go.”
“You don’t have to,” Mary said.
“No,” Mia said, “Sam’s right. I should go. It’s been a long day. It was really good to meet you, Mary, and you, Ivan.” She leaned over to shake his hand and he took the opportunity to kiss her cheek.
“You’re a lady,” he said to her, which seemed to please her.
Chris was too busy talking on his mobile phone, telling his friends about his encounter with a rock star, to say goodbye to her.
Justine waved at the window, with Mr Monkels at her side.
Mary closed the door.
“Christ on a cruise ship!” Ivan said. “Stick a fork in me, Mare, I’m done.”
She laughed, but she would have been lying if she’d said she wasn’t a little jealous – not a lot jealous but definitely a little. Frig it, why couldn’t she have been a bitch?
Mia returned to the old-world hotel she’d booked into earlier that day. Sam had agreed to meet her there for drinks at nine. She sat by her window, looking out at the grounds, which led to a little gate. She wondered what lay beyond it. The suite was reminiscent of a bygone era, sumptuous and scattered with antiques and oil paintings. She hadn’t expected such decadence and had thought Kenmare would be as hick as some of those places she had spent months in while touring the States. But, of course, that wasn’t Sam’s style – she was the hick, after all. She considered spending some time in the spa, impressed with the couple’s day suite that offered seclusion, but then she remembered that she wouldn’t be requiring a couple’s day suite and there didn’t seem to be a suite for one. No matter how many treatments, how beautiful the view, or how tranquil the spa pool, the empty chair would surely taunt her.
She lay on her bed for a while, opening a trouser button because she’d eaten too much brown bread.
She pondered on Sam’s welcome. He’d put his arms around her and smiled, but deception was his strong suit. She had felt his warmth. He looked well and healthy. His friend Ivan seemed nice and the kids were cute. They were also a well-placed distraction. On the pier she had noticed Sam trying to catch Mary’s eye. Mary wouldn’t be drawn and she’d wondered, What is it with those two?
It was after eight when she showered, careful not to wet her hair, which had been styled in the UK that morning. She sat at her dressing-table to apply her makeup. The mirror was deceptively large and seemed to engulf her. Mia, what are you really doing here? She often stared at her own reflection with wonder, not because she was intoxicated by her beauty, as others were, and not because she saw herself as extraordinary: she stared at herself