No Way to Say Goodbye (30 page)

Having deposited Caleb at his destination, Sam returned to bed. Now he had no distraction, he worried that he was slipping, and that although he had won a hard battle he was about to lose the war. He had come a long way in six months. Here, in this beautiful gentle place, he was further from his New York self than he could ever have imagined. And it wasn’t just Mary who had encouraged the change: it had been the place and its people, but mostly it had been himself. For years he had desperately wanted to escape himself. He had known that the man he once was would have to die, and he had died one night six months and a lifetime ago, yet just below the surface that dead man’s memories remained intact, haunting him as surely as a determined ghost.

Phones had tried to get him to talk about his past during his stay in rehab. He had employed every trick in the book to get his patient to reveal the depths of himself so that they could work through it. But he had failed.

Phones had certainly learned a lot, though. He discovered that Sam had been born an outsider. It became obvious early on that his patient’s love of his grandmother, although not Oedipal, was certainly a form of idealization. And Phones’s patient notes included his theory that the timing of her death at the cusp of his manhood ensured that her grandson would find it difficult to meet another woman, including his own mother, who could live up to the one his grandmother had become in his mind. A woman who, had she survived, would have revealed herself to be human and flawed, rather than the embodiment of a boy’s idea of perfection. This theory was validated by Sam’s inability to find lasting love but it did not explain the darkness that lay deep within his psyche. Something terrible had happened to him. Phones was sure that he had not suffered parental abuse, terrible poverty or, aside from an ill grandmother, loss. He’d never been at war and he seemed not to have been involved in an incident that would have precipitated post-traumatic stress.
What the hell happened to this guy?
Phones had circled his question twice while doodling on page fourteen of his notes, but Sam would never tell.

Much later that night, when Sam closed his eyes he dreamed of the woman only a wall away. Even as he luxuriated in her warm smile, chasing after her beckoning hand in a world full of colour and light, she descended to the depths of darkness and a place in which, again, she saw the hooded teenage boy curled into a bloodied ball.

Suddenly the boy was staring at her. “Save me!” he begged.

23. Sacrificed

Mary was just outside the Kerry border when smoke began to pour out from under the car’s bonnet. Within moments she had pulled over to the side of the road with a car full of whiskey and what appeared to be a clapped-out engine. She called the AA and was told the wait would be at least an hour. The guy joked that she should get comfortable, which annoyed rather than entertained her. She cursed herself for having forgotten her all-important travel CD collection.

It was after she’d grown tired of flicking through radio stations that she phoned Ivan. He picked up without much delay.

“You’re not going to believe where I am,” she said.

“Where?”

“On the side of the road in a clapped-out car waiting for the AA,” she said.

“You’re not going to believe where I am,” he countered.

“Where?”

“Kerry airport.”

“Norma!” she gasped.

“She’s coming home,” he said, clearly relieved.

“Oh, that’s fantastic! Where’s she staying?”

“With me and the kids,” he said happily.

“Have you lost your mind?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your relationship with Sienna is on dangerous enough ground already,” Mary reminded him.

“But now that Norma’s home it’ll get better.”

“Not if she’s living in your house, Ivan! God almighty!”

“All right, calm down. I’ll work something out.”

“You do that,” she said, and hung up.

It was just after seven in the evening, and as the tow truck appeared to be light years away she made sure that her hazard lights were on, locked her doors and settled down for a snooze.

Ivan drove out of the airport with his wife in the passenger seat, the kids buzzing in the back. Norma had made a remarkable recovery. She looked fresh and happy, and was grateful for the lift.

“Don’t be soft – we were hardly going to let you get a taxi,” he said.

The kids laughed at the notion.

“The woman’s put flowers in the spare room for you,” Justine announced.

“Her name is Sienna,” Ivan said.

“That’s nice of her,” Norma said politely.

“Chris says they look gay,” Justine noted.

“Well, he shouldn’t,” Ivan told her. “Your uncle Barry is gay.”

“I know,” Chris replied. “That’s why I call him Uncle Gay.” He grinned at his mother, who had turned to laugh with him.

“Sorry,” she said, in response to Ivan’s dirty look.

He grinned.

Just like the old days
.

*

Penny’s dry spell didn’t last as long as she’d hoped and, as she’d tipped most of her booze down the drain, she needed to stock up. Luckily she’d located a bottle of vodka in an old suitcase, having conducted a large-scale search operation. Once it was empty she was forced to go to the off-licence so she fixed her makeup, brushed her hair and straightened herself up generally before she got into the car to drive to town. She picked up a basket and, as she did so, she noticed, from the corner of her eye, that one of the two young Murphy girls behind the counter was pointing at her and making a glugging gesture, then mimicking a drunken walk. The other had a hand over her mouth to smother a snigger.

Penny dropped the basket and walked out.

Stupid little bitches!
She vowed she wouldn’t return to that shop ever again. Instead, she decided to go to Killarney for her booze. It was a good twenty miles away from the local gossips and, besides, she could do with the drive.

In the car she started to panic. Her heart was racing and she felt so hot that she had to turn on the air-conditioning – usually she reserved it for stifling days. Beads of sweat rolled from the nape of her neck down her spine.
What the hell am I doing?
What the hell is wrong with me?
Her hands were shaking on the steering-wheel so she pulled into the side of the road and stopped. She briefly wondered why she had come over the mountain and supposed it was just habit. No one else was around, just her sitting in the car, the grey rock towering over her and cascading below. She got out, needing to breathe fresh air, and stood by the small railing that separated her from the glassy lake below.

And it was there on the mountain that she admitted to herself what she’d long hidden in the deepest recess of her mind.
I am an alcoholic
. Tears swelled in her eyes and tumbled. Mary’s words and the Murphy girl’s imitation ran through her mind.
Oh, God help me!
She spent just over thirty minutes crying, then returned to the car. She cleaned her face with an old tissue she found in the glove-box and reapplied her eyeliner and some lipstick. Then she drove on to Killarney to purchase much-needed alcohol.

After all, alcoholics drank alcohol.

Mary didn’t get home until after ten p.m. Mr Monkels was scratching to get in and she opened the back door to discover the clothes-line on the ground, with the washing still attached to it. “Reaching for the stars or the birds?” she asked her dog, whose lowered head and disappearing tail were evidence enough to suggest that this mini-disaster was of his making. She was picking up her muddy clothing when she heard Sam’s door open. She had an armful of clothes when he peered over the wall.

“Hey.” He looked tired.

“Hey,” she reciprocated.

“Have you had enough space?” he asked candidly.

“Are you OK?” she asked, grabbing at a wayward sock.

“Not really,” he confessed.

“Come inside,” she offered.

He made his way over the wall.

“You could have used the front door.”

“This way is quicker.”

He followed her into the kitchen. She put the clothes back into the washing-machine and offered him coffee. He didn’t have time to answer before the phone rang.

Seconds into the call Mary’s face changed. Sam knew that something terrible had happened. When she hung up he demanded, “What?”

“I need your car.” She went straight to the door, grabbing her handbag and jacket on the way.

“Excuse me?” he said, following her outside.

“It’s Penny. She’s been in an accident.” Her voice was trembling.

“Is she hurt?”

“Yes.”

“How bad?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where is she?”

“The mountain,” she replied, in a strangled whisper.

He headed into his house to pick up his keys. “I’ll drive,” he said, when he got back to her.

He sat into the driver’s seat and she strapped herself in beside him.

“Don’t worry, the emergency services will take care of everything,” he said, putting the car into gear.

“We
are
the emergency services.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We can’t call anyone – she’s drunk,” she said, and bit her lip.

“Is this wise?”

“I don’t know, but she’s my friend.”

Sam drove onto the mountain while Mary talked to Ivan, who agreed to meet them at the accident site. She hung up and tried Penny’s phone, but five minutes previously Penny had warned her that it was running out of juice. Her speech had been slurred and Mary wasn’t sure if it was from alcohol or a head injury.
We need to get there
.

Sam saw Mary’s fear – she was gripping her phone so tightly that her knuckles were white. “Calm down,” he soothed.

“Can’t,” she replied, staring straight ahead.
I hate this fucking mountain
.

“She’s fine.”

“We don’t know that.”

“She can talk – that’s a good sign,” he said.

“She’s crying. She says she’s bleeding.” The thought of her best friend abandoned and hurt made her well up.

“She’s really scared.”
I should have been there for her. I should have seen this coming.

“You couldn’t have seen this coming,” he said, and she wondered if she had voiced the thought without realizing it.

“Is this rock bottom?” she asked, remembering Adam’s words.

Sam seemed to understand what she meant. “Only time will tell,” he said.

“We really need to get there.”

Minutes later they came across Penny’s car, smashed into the side of the mountain. The front was crumpled against a dying deer impaled on sharp rocks. Blood leaked from its mouth and Penny was crumpled beside it. Mary was out of the car as soon as Sam had pressed the brake. It was the first time since her accident that she had actually set foot on the mountain, and her proximity to the edge of a steep cliff across the road wasn’t far from her mind.
Breathe
. She made her way to her friend who had passed out. Mary was scared to turn her over, afraid of spinal injury. She was scared to touch her at all.

“Penny! Penny! Wake up!”
This is insane
. “Christ, we need to get someone here who knows what they’re doing!” she cried, battling encroaching vertigo.

Sam placed his hand on Penny’s wrist. “She’s got a strong pulse,” he said, then went back to the car and pulled out his and Mary’s jackets. “We need to cover her.” He laid them over her.

A second or two passed before she moved.

“Don’t move!” Mary barked.

Penny ignored her and turned over. “I’m OK,” she slurred, as blood streamed from a cut on her forehead. The gash was deep and fleshy. The current of blood masked broken teeth, a split lip and a badly broken nose, but when Penny moved her head, the damage became all too apparent.

“Oh, Jesus!” Mary gasped. Her friend’s face was pulverized.

Sam took off his shirt and handed it to Penny who, until then, hadn’t noticed him. She took it from him and buried her face in it.

When Ivan arrived, the deer was breathing its last.

Penny lifted her hand to its head and stroked it gently as its eyes lost all expression. “I’m so sorry!” she cried, spitting broken teeth. “I’m so, so sorry!”

Ivan took over. His previous incarnation as a commercial diver had ensured he had sufficient first-aid skills to confirm that his friend had no bone or spinal injuries. Her face concerned him most. He carried her to his car and laid her on the back seat. He wrapped her in Sam’s and Mary’s jackets and rested her head on a Barbie pillow from the boot that Justine had insisted on bringing home, only to forget about it when they arrived. He took ice from the cooler he had filled before he set off – he often used it when he was fishing. He wrapped some in a towel and handed it to her. “It’ll slow the blood flow and curb the swelling,” he said.

“What about shock?” Mary asked.

“She’s drunk enough for shock not to be our biggest problem.”

He closed the door on Penny, who was mumbling something about killing Bambi. He went back to his car and got out the jack. He returned to Penny’s car and, with one blow, smashed the glass on the driver’s side.

“What the hell are you doing?” Sam asked.

“We need to make it look like the car was stolen. That, or Penny goes down for drink-driving. Not to mention that the red deer she killed is a protected species.”

“Oh,” Sam said.

Mary was mesmerized by the dead animal, horrified by the suffering it had endured. Her nose was running. She wiped it with her hand. She felt faint.

“Follow me,” Ivan said.

“Where are we going?” Mary asked, wondering what the hell her cousin was doing.

“Cork. Adam’s meeting us in the Regional.”

Sam and Mary went to their car, Sam supporting Mary who had now succumbed to a combination of vertigo and fright. Ivan took off, with Sam following. Mary tried to control her breathing as Sam sped around the bend that had once nearly claimed her.

“We’ll be OK,” he said.

“I know.”

“I’m a good driver.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

Even when she was struggling with terror Mary could make him smile. Once they were off the mountain and driving on the Cork road, Mary took several deep breaths. She called Ivan on her mobile – she knew he had a hands-free set in his car – and he assured her that their friend was OK. At one point she’d actually attempted to sing the chorus of Phil Collins’s “Against All Odds”.