No Way to Say Goodbye (3 page)

Mary couldn’t help but enjoy Penny’s disgust. “Ivan said it was funny in parts,” she said.

“Funny? Yeah, it really sounds hilarious!” And then it dawned on Penny. “Jesus, it was filmed in 1993! DiCaprio’s retarded and his balls hadn’t even dropped! What am I supposed to do with this?” She was holding the DVD in the air like a demonstrator in a supermarket.

“I don’t know – what would you have done with it if DiCaprio
wasn’t
retarded and his balls
had
dropped?” Mary grinned.

“Good point,” Penny agreed. “Still, this does not sound remotely shallow.” She sighed, laying the DVD on the coffee-table.

“Are you OK?” Mary asked, concerned. She seemed OK but she was a master in the art of masking. Mary had often thought what a great actor she would have made, but Penny had joined an acting class one summer and hated it, calling those around her a bunch of jumped-up talent-free tossers. Then she had made what could only have been described as a grand exit. Now she was smiling but Mary sensed a problem.
Maybe the dream
was
about Penny.

“I’m fine. It’s just the endless rain,” Penny lied. She wasn’t ready to admit that she and Adam had ended their relationship, first because she wanted to forget but also because she wasn’t sure that either of them would be able to stick to their guns. After all, they had broken up many times before. “Just put the film on and pass the bottle.”

Mary was suspicious but she didn’t say anything. When Penny was ready to share her problem, she’d be there to listen. She knew what it was like to have people stick their noses in.

They were halfway through the film and Penny was finishing off the wine. Mary seemed to be enjoying the sad tale. Crispin Glover as the undertaker made her laugh and Darlene Cates prompted an “Aaah!”

By contrast Penny mumbled, “Kill me!” several times while she downed her wine and played with her broken fingernail.

“If I didn’t know DiCaprio was an actor I’d believe he was retarded,” said Mary. “He’s really pulled it off.”

“Yeah, it’s great,” Penny said.

“Like that Down’s syndrome kid – you know, the one on that TV show with the blonde girl who did
Romeo and Juliet
with DiCaprio. What’s his name?”

“Corky,” Penny said, perking up.

“Yeah, Corky. He was great.”

“He was. Wrong girl, though – you’re thinking of the blonde who went out with the HIV-infected teenager.” Penny was looking for the corkscrew.

“Rob Lowe’s brother?”

“Yes.”

“I thought she went on to play Juliet?” Mary said.

“No, that was the redhead from that other show. She was in love with the dyslexic rebel and had a gay best friend.”

“Funny – I could have sworn Juliet was Corky’s sister,” Mary said.

“The guy who played her boyfriend is a lead singer with a rock band now,” Penny said, still searching for the corkscrew.

“Rob Lowe’s brother?”

“No, the dyslexic rebel.”

“Oh. Any good?”

“Haven’t a clue,” she said, finally locating it. She opened the second bottle and poured a glassful.

Meanwhile, on screen, DiCaprio was being left to freeze to death in a cold bath overnight, forgotten by Depp, his horny brother.

“Kill me!” Penny repeated.

“We can turn it off,” Mary offered, battling the urge to cry for the boy, shaking and blue-lipped, on the screen.

“No. It’s fine. Seriously, it’s not that bad,” Penny conceded, but then Depp ended his affair with the married Mary Steenburgen, and Penny broke down in tears.

“Do you need a break?” Mary asked, and Penny nodded, unable to speak.

“OK.” Mary switched off the TV.

Penny wiped her eyes, mumbling something about how pathetic she was.

“Do you want some coffee?” Mary asked.

“No. I’ll finish my wine.”

“Do you want a hug?”

“That would be lovely.”

They hugged.

“I’m such a sap,” Penny said. “But, Mare?”

“Yeah?” Mary pulled away while Penny composed herself.

“Do you think it’s better to be alone?” Penny asked.

“No.” Mary shook her head. “But possibly safer.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

“So you’re fine?” Mary asked, with a raised eyebrow, while Penny blew her nose.

“I will be.”

Mary leaned over and kissed her forehead to comfort her, much as she’d once comforted her son. “Yes, you will,” she said.
Once a mother, always a mother.

Penny was too drunk to drive home so Mary fixed up the spare bedroom when the film finally ended. She wasn’t usually a crier, unlike Mary, for whom hiding emotion was a constant battle. Mary wasn’t sure if her friend had ended her affair with the only man she had ever loved and she didn’t know how desperately heartbroken she was – but she didn’t know much when it came to love. She didn’t have a clue what it was like to feel anything other than ambivalence towards the men who had crossed her path since Robert had died. She had little understanding of Penny’s heartbreak.

And yet Penny believed that she understood Mary’s lethargy towards love. To her mind, Robert had been Mary’s first and only love. Even now she couldn’t forget the one who had tied her up in knots, as she faced her thirties. Mary’s first love had died, leaving her a son who had followed his dad. Of course, Penny thought that Mary couldn’t let herself fall in love because love had only brought her suffering. But Penny’s view of Mary’s pain was simplistic. Penny was a diehard romantic. She liked to think that Robert was the Romeo to Mary’s Juliet. In reality, Mary’s reasons for being alone were far more mundane than that.

That night Mary tucked Penny in, while Penny made a drunken, silent pact to be more like her friend. She vowed to close off, to shut out the world and all its rubbish. It occurred to her that maybe then she’d have half a chance of being happy.

Mary stood at the bedroom door, watching Penny who was stirring. “You need to go to the loo again, don’t you?” She wondered what the hell was going through her friend’s mind.

“I can go myself,” Penny slurred.

“I know,” Mary said, hoisting her from the bed.

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 Monkels was wheezing, but the rain had stopped, which was good.
No need for sandbags
. When she looked out of her window the water seemed calm – the boat was no longer slapping against the pier wall. Still her eyes refused to close.

Despite another night with little sleep, Mary was the first to wake. She showered and dressed while Penny and Mr Monkels slept on. She laid out the dog’s breakfast and started to cook something for Penny. She broke some eggs and the bell rang. She left them to sizzle in the pan while she opened the door. Jerry Letter grinned at her. “Soft day,” he said, handing her two bills from his postbag.

“Coffee?”

“No. I’m running a bit late and I promised Maura I’d take her to Killarney to get her ingrown toenail sorted out.”

“Too much information, Jerry!”

“You think that’s bad, you should see her arse!” He winked at her, and gave his familiar gummy smile. “I hear Lucy was in next door last night?”

Mary grinned. “You don’t miss a trick.”

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“So you’re getting a new neighbour?”

“You tell me.”

“I hear it’s soon,” he said, winking.

Ivan walked up behind him. “Jerry!” He clapped the postman on the back.

“Ivan,” Jerry said. “That was a fair old game on Saturday. Damn near close to losing.”

Ivan laughed. “Ah, sure, almost losing is better than almost winning.”

Mary waved at Jerry, who was already halfway down the road, then followed her cousin in and closed the door.

“Just in time for breakfast. Jesus, I’m a mighty man for timing!” He handed her his newspaper and sat down.

“I watched the film,” she said, while she broke some more eggs.

“Did you cry?” he inquired, making coffee.

“No.” She chuckled. Ivan knew her better than anyone, including Penny.

“Liar! You cried when a Fraggle stole the Gorg’s tomato in
Fraggle Rock
.” He laughed at the memory.

“OK, Ivan, we both know that the tomato was Junior Gorg’s only friend. Not to mention the fact that I was a child.”

“You were sixteen,” he said, sitting down.

“All right, I might have squeezed out a tear or two over DiCaprio last night but Penny did most of the crying.”

“Penny was here?” he asked.

“Still is. Why?”

“It’s over with Adam.”

“I guessed,” she said. “How is he?”

“Devastated but it’s for the best. How’s Penn?”

“Not really talking. She got drunk and went to bed.”

Ivan nodded. “It’s for the best,” he repeated.

“Yeah, I know.”

Penny appeared in the door, hung-over, with her head in her hands. “And just when you think things can’t get any worse you succumb to the hangover from a place they call hell.”

Mary went to her medicine press and handed her friend two painkillers, while Ivan poured her a glass of water.

“You know?” Penny asked Ivan.

“I do.”

She looked at Mary. “Did I tell you?” she asked, embarrassed by the gap in her memory.

“Not in so many words. I’m sorry, Penn.” She served the eggs.

“Thanks,” Penny said, welling up.

Ivan hugged her. “It’s for the best,” he reiterated.

They sat down together, Mary and Ivan eating eggs and Penny chasing hers around the plate.

“What’s the situation with next door?” Ivan asked his cousin.

“New neighbours?” Penny asked, attempting to perk up.

“Yes,” Mary said. “Three days and counting.”

Ivan knew she hated to be bothered and secretly hoped that whoever moved in next door would do just that.

“Stop grinning!” She shook her fork at him.

“Let’s hope they’re interesting.” Penny sighed.

“Well, just as long as they can speak English,” Ivan said.

“Jesus, there’s nothing worse than having to deal with people through sign language and a shagging phrase book,” she said.

“Oh, sweet God!” Mary moaned, while Ivan and Penny grinned at one another.