No Way to Say Goodbye Read Free Page A

her nerves.
    Afternoon had passed into late evening and then to night. The town was silent, with few venturing out. Penny drove past the pubs, restaurants and shops, all brightly painted and featuring window-boxes, whose colourful contents absorbed the falling water thirstily. She had stopped crying, instead allowing the rain that coursed down the windscreen to do it for her. Sinéad O’Connor’s rendition of “Nothing Compares To You” had been playing on the radio and she’d broken a fingernail in her hasty attempt to change the station. Still, everything was fine now. She would go to Mary’s and they’d watch a DVD and she’d talk rubbish and forget about the sad, sorry, pathetic mess that was her world. Although she had often worried that her friend had given up on love, it was days like these that made her wonder if Mary was right. She wouldn’t admit it, though, not yet – she might be heartbroken but she still had hope.
    At the window Mr Monkels stood up and barked hello to Mossy Leary from number three who had stopped to help Penny – she was battling to open her umbrella although she had to walk just ten paces from her car to the door. Mossy was in his late thirties with long dark hair in a pony-tail. He was skinnier than Kate Moss and had saucer eyes that Penny often joked made him look like a cartoon character. He was a part-time fisherman, part-time house-painter, part-time sculptor and full-time stoner.
    Mary opened the door and waved at him. He gave her the thumbs-up, then headed off towards town on a quest for a few free pints. She smiled at her friend, who was cursing the umbrella and attempting to shield her head with a hand.
    Mary had woken to Penny’s knock. Her watch revealed that hours had passed since her friend had agreed to come over. “I thought you were on your way?”
    “I’m here, am I not?” Penny asked, with a playful grin.
    “You live ten minutes not six hours away.”
    “Sorry.” Penny pushed past her. “I got held up.” She didn’t elaborate.
    Mary poured a glass of white wine from the bottle she’d had chilling in the fridge. Penny drank, then turned off Simon and Garfunkel’s ode to the sound of silence, which had been on repeat for most of the evening. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
    “Nothing.”
    “Are you maudlin?” Penny narrowed her eyes and adopted the pose of interrogator.
    “No,” Mary said.
    “Liar. Still, at least it wasn’t Radiohead. I swear I’d have left.”
    Mary smiled. “I’m fine.” She topped up Penny’s glass.
    “Good. I can’t do depressing tonight,” Penny said, as she slumped into a chair. She wrinkled her nose as Mary disappeared into the kitchen. “What’s that smell?”
    “Shit in sunshine,” Mary said, returning. She handed Penny a plate of brown bread and smoked salmon. She had mouthed “shit” rather than saying it aloud – she had stopped swearing soon after she became a mother.
    “Dyeing your hair?”
    Mary nodded.
    “Nice job.” Penny put her feet up on the sofa and made herself comfortable, with the plate on her lap.
    Mary disappeared into the kitchen again.
    “Hey!” Penny shouted.
    “Yeah?”
    “Mossy mentioned that Lucy Thomas was in next door earlier.”
    Mary came back with some chilli nuts, which she placed on the table. “Oh, yeah?” she said.
    Penny knew her too well to be fooled by her nonchalance. “I wonder if you’re due a new neighbour.” She smiled as she sipped and began to read the blurb on the DVD box.
    Meanwhile Mary struggled with the curtains. “No way,” she mumbled, more to herself than to her friend. “She’s probably just checking the house for flooding.”
    Penny was grinning. “She’s come all the way from Mallow to check for flooding? Yeah, that must be it.”
    Mary looked out of the window at the boat that had docked earlier that week, slapping against the pier wall. “What’s it like in town?”
    “Wet, windy, ghostly.” Penny was reading the back of the DVD