No Way to Say Goodbye by Anna McPartlin Read Free Book Online

share her friend’s opinion: instead she saw a bloody annoyance. But there was something about him that even his gorgeous face couldn’t distract her from. It made her anxious yet she couldn’t put her finger on why.
    He spoke. “Hi. I’m Sam Sullivan.”
    “OK,” she responded. She didn’t mean to sound rude but that had been all she could muster.
    He put out his hand. “From next door.”
    “Hi.” She shook it awkwardly, wishing he’d leave. She opened the door wider so that her old friend could say hello to her new neighbour but she wasn’t asking him in.
    “I was just looking for a menu for a place that delivers,” he said, realizing that his neighbour wasn’t as welcoming as they’d said Irish people were in the Aer Lingus brochure.
    The other girl laughed. “Nowhere delivers,” she said.
    “You’re kidding,” he said, looking over the first’s shoulder. She shook her head, smiling coyly with one leg behind the other and one arm hanging casually as if she was a teenager on dope or attempting an impression of Bono singing “Maggie’s Farm” at Self Aid.
    “I didn’t see that coming.” He was disturbed by this news.
    “You can eat here,” the second girl offered. “We have loads. Don’t we, Mare?” She moved towards him and put out her hand for him to shake. “I’m Penny Walsh,” she smiled a winsome smile, “and this is my friend Mary Mackey. She’s friendlier than she first appears. She’d love you to stay.”
    Mary smiled, teeth gritted, at the stranger while silently wishing a nasty case of the clap on her friend. “Of course.”
    “No, thanks. I’m really tired and not much company,” he said truthfully. Sam was no more interested in making new friends than his reluctant neighbour was.
    Mary felt bad. “I could pack it up for you. It’s still hot and you could drop the plate back tomorrow,” she said, moving away from the door. “Just leave it outside, it’ll be fine.”
    Sam was starving now and the smell of cooking was killing him. “That would be great, thanks.”
    Penny flirted with him while Mary plated the remaining shepherd’s pie and checked the fridge for some sort of dessert. She had a cheesecake but it had been there since the previous Tuesday. “What’s today’s date?” she called.
    “The nineteenth,” Sam told her, battling Mr Monkels who seemed fascinated with his balls, which Penny pointed out, to Sam’s embarrassment.
    Mary screamed at her dog from the kitchen and, sulkily, he took to his bed in front of the fire, groaning like a cheeky teenager. She emerged from the kitchen with the plate. He thanked her; she told him it wasn’t a problem with her hand on the open door. He left and she closed it quickly.
    Penny was shaking her head.
    “Don’t,” Mary warned.
    “He might be the prettiest man I’ve ever seen in real life. Maybe even a little too pretty. I didn’t have time to make up my mind.” Penny was a little put out that her friend had done everything to get rid of him but push him out of the door. She plonked herself down on the window-seat again, flicking at the curtain for one last glimpse, but he was gone.
    Mary remained silent, the American already past tense. How could I forget? she asked herself. How is it possible that I could forget? How could I not know what date it is?
    Penny was still talking but her voice seemed far away. No wonder she couldn’t sleep. The past week was starting to make sense. She needed to be alone. She got up. “I’m taking you home,” she said.
    “What?” Penny exclaimed, swirling her wine.
    “I’m tired,” Mary lied.
    “OK, but I can drive myself.” Penny got up, but after the beers and half a bottle of wine she wasn’t going to be allowed to drive anywhere.
    Mary dropped Penny at her house. It was set on a hill overlooking a sweeping valley littered with sheep interspersed with the odd cow, and spotted with clusters of wild flowers. The latter couldn’t be seen at night, of course, but a