Marian Keyes - Lucy Sullivan Is Getting Married (22 page)

"As if I would." He looked hurt.

"Good, I'm glad we understand each other."

"You don't think she'll be pleased, then?" asked Daniel archly.

"Shut up."

36 I saw a curtain twitching in the front room. Mum had the front door open before we even had a chance to ring the bell.

For a moment I felt a little bit sad.

Doesn't she have anything better to do? I wondered.

"Welcome," she said gaily, all hospitality and good cheer. "Come in out of the cold night. How are you, Daniel? Aren't you very good to come all this way to visit us? Are you frozen?" she asked, grabbing Daniel's hands. "No, you're not too bad. Take off the coats and come on in, I've just made a pot."

"I didn't know you'd taken up pottery." Daniel smiled at Mum flirta- tiously.

"Stop!" She laughed and rolled her eyes at him. "You're a terrible man."

I stuck my fingers down my throat and made gagging noises.

"Stop it," muttered Daniel.

"Why are you being mean to me?" I said in surprise. "You never usually are."

"Because sometimes you're childish and horrible." 266 / marian keyes

That annoyed and upset me, so as we took off our coats in the tiny hall and left them on the bottom of the banisters, I mimicked "childish and horrible" about fifty times in a stupid voice.

Daniel looked at me with raised eyebrows but I knew he was trying not to laugh.

"If you say to me `that's very mature behavior,' I'll hit you," I warned him.

"That's very mature behavior."

So we had a little skirmish. I tried to hit him but he grabbed my wrists and held them tightly. And then he laughed at me while I pushed and twisted against him, trying to get free. But I couldn't budge, not even an inch, while he looked totally unconcerned and grinned down at me.

I was disturbed by his macho act. In fact, if it had been anyone other than Daniel, it would have been quite erotic.

"You big bully." I knew that would upset him. I was right, he let go im- mediately. And then, perversely, I felt disappointed.

We went into the warm kitchen where Mum was messing around with cookies and sugar and pints of milk.

Dad was in an armchair, snoring quietly, his hair white and wispy and sticking up from his head. I patted it down tenderly. His glasses were all askew, and with a painful twist in my stomach, I realized that he was starting to look old. Not middle-aged or even elderly, but like a little old man.

"You'll be grand now when you have a nice warm cup inside you," Mum said. "Did you get a new skirt, Lucy?"

"No."

"Where's it from?"

"It's not new."

"I heard you the first time. Where's it from?" lucy sullivan is getting married / 267

"You won't know it."

"Try me--I'm not the old fuddy-duddy she thinks I am," she said, smiling at Daniel, shoving platefuls of cookies across the table at him.

"Kookai," I said, between gritted teeth.

"What kind of name for a shop is that, at all?" she asked, pretending to laugh.

"I told you you wouldn't know it."

"I don't. And I don't want to know it. What's it made of?" She grabbed the fabric.

"How do I know?" I said, annoyed, trying to pull my skirt back from her claw. "I buy things because I like them, not because of what they're made from."

"I'd say it's only synthetic," she said, rubbing it.

"Stop it."

"And the hem--a child could sew that hem better. What did you say you paid for it?"

"I didn't."

"Well, how much did you pay for it?"

I wanted to say that I wasn't going to tell her, but I knew how childish that would sound.

"I can't remember."

"I'd say you can remember, all right. But you're too ashamed to tell me. Much more than it's worth."

I said nothing.

"You were always hopeless with money, Lucy."

Still I said nothing.

The three of us sat in silence, me sullenly refusing to drink my tea, be- cause she had made it.

She always brought out the worst in me.

Daniel broke the tension by going out into the hall and coming back with the cake he had bought for her.

Naturally she was delighted, and was all over him like a skin disease. 268 / marian keyes

"You're so sweet! There was no need for you to do that. Although it's a sorry state of affairs that my own flesh and blood brings me nothing."

"Oh, it's from the two of us, not just me," said Daniel quickly.

"Kiss-up," I mouthed across the table at him.

"Oh," said Mum. "Well, thanks, Lucy. Except you know I've given up chocolate for Lent."

"But cake isn't chocolate," I said weakly.

"Chocolate cake is chocolate," she said.

"You could freeze it to have after Lent is over," I suggested.

"It'd never keep."

"It would."

"Anyway that would be contrary to the whole spirit of Lent."

"All right then! Don't eat it. Daniel and I will."

The offending cake sat in the middle of the table; it had suddenly become something frightening, like a bomb. If I hadn't known better I would have sworn that it was almost pulsating. I knew that it would never be eaten.

"What have you given up for Lent, Lucy?"

"Nothing! I have enough misery in my life," I added cryptically, hoping that she would realize that I was talking about visiting her, "I don't need to give up anything."

And to my surprise she didn't retaliate. She looked at me, almost...ten- derly...for a moment.

"I've made your favorite dinner," she said.

"Have you?" I wasn't even aware that I had a favorite dinner. But just to be mean I said, "Oh great, Mum. I didn't know you could cook Thai."

Mum made a kind of a "let's humor her" face at Daniel. "What's she talking about? Cooking ties? You were lucy sullivan is getting married / 269

always a bit peculiar, Lucy, but just to please you we'll get a few of your father's old ties from upstairs."

I made a face.

"He won't be needing them," Mum added bitterly. "He hasn't worn a tie since his wedding day."

"Not so," slurred a voice from the corner. "Didn't I wear a tie to Mattie Burke's funeral?" Dad had opened his eyes and was looking confusedly around the room.

"Dad!" I said, delighted, "you're awake."

"Oh, the dead arose and appeared to many," called Mum sarcastically as Dad struggled to sit up straight.

"They did not!" said Dad. "That wasn't Mattie Burke, that was Laurence Molloy. Did I ever tell you about that, Lucy? A great couple of days when Laurence Molloy pretended to be dead so we could have a right good oul' wake for ourselves. Except Laurence wasn't too happy when it dawned on him that he had to lie there, stretched out on some hard plank of wood, getting nothing to drink, save the fumes from our breath, so up he jumps out of the coffin and grabs a bottle out of someone's hand. `Gimme that' he says..."

"Shut up, Jamsie," barked my mother. "We have a visitor and I'm sure he doesn't want to hear stories about your misspent youth."

"I wasn't telling him stories about my misspent youth," grumbled Dad. "Laurence Molloy's wake was only a couple of years ago...oh hello, son," he said, spotting Daniel, "I remember you. You used to come around to play with Christopher Patrick. A big, long, lanky article you were then, stand up so I can see if you've got any shorter!"

Daniel stood up awkwardly, amid much scraping of chairs. 270 / marian keyes

"Longer, if anything!" declared Dad, "and I wouldn't have thought it was possible."

Daniel gratefully sat down again.

"Lucy," said Dad, turning his attention to me, "my darling girl, my little sweetheart, I didn't know you were coming. Why didn't you tell me she was coming?" he demanded of my mother.

"I did tell you."

"You did not tell me."

"I did tell you."

"You most certainly did not tell me!"

"I di...oh what's the use. I might as well be talking to the wall."

"Lucy," said Dad, "I'll go and smarten myself up a bit and I'll be back before you know it, in two shakes of a lamb's tail."

He shuffled out of the room and I smiled affectionately after him.

"He's looking great," I said.

"Is he?" said Mum coldly.

An awkward little pause followed.

"More tea?" Mum asked Daniel, following the great Irish tradition of filling any conversational gaps by pressing nourishment on people.

"Thanks."

"Another cookie?"

"No thanks."

"A little piece of the cake?"

"No, really, I'd better not. I must leave room for my dinner."

"Go on, you're a growing lad."

"No, honestly."

"Are you certain now?"

"Mum, leave him!" I laughed, remembering what Gus lucy sullivan is getting married / 271

had said about Irish mothers. "So what have you made for our dinner?"

"Fish fingers, beans and chips."

"Er, nice, Mum."

True, it had been my favorite dinner well over half a lifetime ago, until I moved up to London and became acquainted with such exotica as tandoori noodles and Peking duck flavored potato chips.

"Great," grinned Daniel. "I love fish fingers, beans and chips."

He sounded as though he really meant it.

"You'd say that no matter what you were being given, wouldn't you, Dan?" I said. "Even if Mum said `Oh Daniel, I thought we'd serve up your testicles in a white wine sauce' you'd say `mmmmh, lovely, Mrs. Sullivan, that sounds delicious.' Wouldn't you?"

I giggled at his horrified expression.

"Lucy," he winced, "you really must be more careful."

"Sorry," I laughed. "I forgot I was talking about your most prized pos- sessions. Where would Daniel Watson be without his genitalia? Your life would be over, wouldn't it?"

"No, Lucy, that's not why. Any man would find that suggestion upset- ting, not just me."

My mother had finally found her voice.

"Lucy--Carmel--Sullivan!" she gasped, apoplectic with horror. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"Nothing, Mrs. Sullivan," said Daniel hastily. "Nothing at all. Nothing, honestly."

"Nothing, Daniel? Well that's not what Karen says." I winked at him, while Daniel began a frenzied conversation with Mum. How was she? Was she working? What was it like at the dry cleaners? 272 / marian keyes

Mum's head jerked from me to Daniel and back again. She was torn between delight at being the center of Daniel's attention and the suspicion that she was letting me get away with something totally heinous and un- forgivable.

But her vanity won. Soon she was regaling Daniel with stories of the spoiled rich bastards whom she had to serve in the dry cleaners, how they wanted everything done yesterday, how they never said thanks, how they parked their cars, "big flashy BMXs or BLTs or whatever they are," so that they blocked the traffic, how critical they were. "In fact only today one of them arrived in--a right young pup--and threw--yes! threw--a shirt at me and shoved it in my face and said `What the hell have you done to this?' Well, Daniel, first and foremost, there was no need to swear at me and I said as much to him and I looked at the shirt and there wasn't a speck on it..." and so on and so on.

Daniel had the patience of a saint. I was so glad he had come with me. I simply couldn't have borne it on my own.

"...and I said, `It's as white as snow' and he said `Exactly, it was blue when I brought it in'..."

On and on droned my mother. On and on smiled and nodded Daniel sympathetically. It was wonderful, I barely needed to be there, just the oc- casional nod or "mmm" was all my mother required from me. All her at- tention was focused on Daniel.

Finally, the dry cleaning saga came to an end.

"...So he says to me `See you in court' and I says to him `See you in court yourself' and he says `You'll be hearing from my solicitor' and I says `Well, I hope he can shout good and loud because I'm nearly deaf in one ear.'"

"And how are you, Daniel?" asked Mum finally.

"Fine, Mrs. Sullivan, thanks."

"He's better than fine, aren't you, Daniel? Tell Mum about your new girlfriend." lucy sullivan is getting married / 273

I was delighted. I knew that that would upset her. She still held out hopes that I might somehow get Daniel to fall for me.

"Stop, Lucy," muttered Daniel, looking embarrassed.

"Oh, don't be shy, Daniel." I knew I was being annoying but I was enjoy- ing it tremendously.

"Anyone we know?" asked Mum, hopefully.

"Yes," I said happily.

"Oh?" She was trying, rather badly, to hide her excitement.

"Yes, it's my roommate Karen."

"Karen?"

"Yes."

"The Scottish one?"

"Yes. And they're mad about each other. Isn't it great? Well, isn't it?" I asked again, when she didn't answer.

"I always thought she was a bit unladylike..." said Mum and then clapped her hand over her mouth in pretend horror. "Oh, Daniel, can you believe I just said that? I'm so sorry. Sacred Heart of Jesus, how could I be so tactless? Would you ever please forget I said anything, Daniel--it was a long time ago when I saw her."

"Consider it forgotten," said Daniel, smiling slightly. He was so good.

"Bad and all as Lucy is," my mother said, in a pretend vague fashion, as if she was just talking to herself, "at least you'd never catch her going out with her bosom on display."

"That's because I haven't got a bosom to have on display. If I had you can be bloody sure that I'd display it."

"Language, Lucy," she said, hitting me on the arm.

"Language?" I sputtered. "You think that's language. I could show you language..."

I stopped and inwardly cursed Daniel for being there. I

couldn't fight with her properly while we had a visitor. Not that Daniel counted as a visitor, as such, but all the same.

"Excuse me a moment," I said and left the room. I got the bottle of whiskey from my bag in the hall and went upstairs. I wanted to talk to Dad alone.

37 Dad was in his bedroom, sitting on the bed, putting on his shoes.

"Lucy," he said. "I was just on my way back down to you."

"Let's just stay here a minute," I said, hugging him.

"Grand," he said. "We'll have a little chat all on our own."

I gave him the bottle of whiskey and he hugged me again. "You're very, very good to me, Lucy," he said.

"How are you, Dad?" I asked, tears in my eyes.

"Grand, Lucy, grand. Why the tears?"

"I hate to think of you stuck here, all on your own, with...with her," I said, nodding toward downstairs.

"But I'm fine, Lucy, so I am," he protested, laughing. She's not the worst. We get along together all right."

"I know you're only saying that so I won't worry about you," I sniffed, "but thanks."

"Oh, Lucy, Lucy, Lucy," he said, squeezing my hand, "you mustn't take it all so seriously. Try and enjoy yourself, because we'll be dead soon enough."

"Oh no," I wailed and then I really started to cry. lucy sullivan is getting married / 275

"Don't talk about dying. I don't want you to die. Promise me you won't die!"

"Er...well...if it makes you happy, I won't die, Lucy."

"And if you have to die, promise me that we can die at the same time."

"I promise."

"Oh, Dad, isn't it awful?"

"What, love?"

"Everything. Being alive, loving people, being afraid that they'll die."

"Is it?"

"Yes, of course it is."

"Where did you ever get such terrible notions from, Lucy?"

"But...but...from you, Dad."

Dad hugged me awkwardly and said that I must have misheard him, that surely he never said anything of the sort and that I was young and had a life to live and that I should try and enjoy it.

"But why, Dad?" I asked. "You never tried to enjoy your life."

"Lucy," he sighed, "it was different for me. It is different for me--I'm an old man now. You're a young woman. Young, beautiful, educated--never forget the benefits of an education, Lucy," he insisted fiercely.

"I won't."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

"You have all these things going for you; you should be happy."

"How can I be?" I pleaded. "And how can you expect me to be? We're the same, Dad, you and I. We can't help seeing the futility, the waste, the darkness." 276 / marian keyes

"What is it, Lucy?" Dad searched my face for some sort of clue. "Is it a fella, is it? Some youngster is after leading you up the garden path? Is that what it is?"

"No, Dad," I laughed even though I was still crying.

"It's not that lanky one in the kitchen, is it?"

"Wha...oh Daniel? No."

"He didn't, er, you know...take liberties with you, Lucy, did he? Because if he did, so help me God, as long as there's breath in my body, I'll get your two brothers to knock him into the middle of next week. A kick in the arse and a map of the world, that's what that fella needs and that's what that fella will get. He's a bigger fool than he looks if he thinks he can interfere with the daughter of Jamsie Sullivan and live to tell the tale..."

"Dad," I wailed. "Daniel hasn't done anything."

"I've seen the way he looks at you," Dad said darkly.

"He doesn't look at me any way. You're imagining things."

"Am I? Sure, maybe I am. It wouldn't be the first time, I suppose."

"Dad, this isn't about a fella at all."

"But then why are you so lonesome?"

"Because I just am, Dad. The same way as you are."

"But I'm fine, Lucy, honest to God so I am. Never better."

"Thanks, Dad," I sighed, leaning against him. "I know you're only saying it to make me feel better, but I appreciate it all the same."

"But...," he said, looking a bit bewildered. He looked like he was searching for something to say, but couldn't think of anything. "Come on," he said eventually, "till we go down for our chips."

Down we went.

The evening was rather grim, what with my mother and lucy sullivan is getting married / 277

I at loggerheads and Dad staring suspiciously at Daniel, convinced that he had improper intentions toward me.

Our spirits lifted slightly when dinner was banged down in front of us.

"A rhapsody in orange," declared Dad, looking at his plate. "That's what it is. Orange fish fingers, orange beans and orange chips and, to wash it all down, a glass of the finest Irish malt, which as luck would have it, also happens to be orange!"

"The chips aren't orange," said Mum. "And have you offered Daniel a drink?"

"They are so orange," protested Dad hotly. "And no I haven't."

"Daniel, would you like a drink?" asked Mum, standing up.

"Well, if they're not orange,. what color would you say they are?" de- manded Dad of the table in general. "Pink? Green?"

"No thanks, Mrs. Sullivan," said Daniel nervously. "I wouldn't like a drink."

"You're not getting one," said Dad belligerently. "Unless you say the chips are orange."

Mum and Dad stared at Daniel, both willing him to be on their side.

"They're more a kind of a golden color," he finally suggested, ever the diplomat.

"They're orange!"

"Golden," said Mum.

Daniel said nothing. He just looked embarrassed.

"All right then." Dad roared and slammed his hand down on the table, causing all the plates and cutlery to jump and rattle. "You drive a hard bargain. Goldeny orange, and that's my final offer. Take it or leave it. But you can't say I'm not a fair man. Give him a drink." 278 / marian keyes

After that, Dad cheered up again in no time. The dinner worked wonders on his lugubrious mood.

"There's only one thing to beat a fish finger," he said, delightedly, smiling around the table. "And that's six more of them."

"Look at that," he said admiringly, lifting the entire fish finger up onto his fork and twiddling it around so that he could view it from all angles. "Beautiful. That's craftsmanship, you know. You'd need a university schooling to know how to make one of these lads properly."

"Jamsie, stop making an exhibition piece of your dinner," Mum said, ruining the fun.

"I'd like to meet this Captain Birds Eye character and shake him by the hand and congratulate him on a job well done," declared Dad, ignoring her. "So I would. Maybe they'll have him on This Is Your Life. What do you think, Lucy?"

"I don't think he's a real person, Dad," I giggled.

"Not real?" asked Dad. "But I've seen him on the TV. Big white whiskers on his face and he lives on a ship."

"But..."

I wasn't sure whether Dad was joking or not. I thought he was--I cer- tainly hoped he was.

"He should be given the Nobel prize, so he should," declared Dad.

"The Nobel prize for what?" asked Mum, sarcastically.

"The Nobel prize for fish fingers, of course," said Dad, sounding sur- prised. "What kind of Nobel prize did you think I meant, Connie? The prize for literature? Sure, that wouldn't make any sense at all!"

Then Mum gave a little laugh and the two of them looked at each other in a funny way.

After the dinner plates were cleared away, Dad retreated lucy sullivan is getting married / 279

to his armchair in the corner while Daniel, Mum and I stayed at the kitchen table and drank oceans of tea.

"I suppose we'd better go," I said idly, at about half past ten. I had spent the previous half hour trying to pluck up the courage to make the sugges- tion. I knew it wouldn't go down too well with my mother.

"Already?" she shrieked. "But you just got here."

"It's late, Mum, and it'll be later still by the time I get home. I need my sleep."

"I don't know what's wrong with you at all, Lucy. When I was your age I could stay up dancing until the sun rose."

"Iron supplements, Lucy," shouted Dad from the corner. "That's what you need. Or what's that other thing all the youngsters take to give them energy?"

"I don't know, Dad. Caffeine?"

"No," he muttered. "It had a different name."

"We really must go. Mustn't we, Daniel?" I said firmly.

"Er, yes."

"Cocaine! That's what it is," shouted Dad, delighted that he had re- membered. "Go down to the Medical Hall and get yourself a dose of cocaine and you'll be leaping around the place in no time."

"I don't think so, Dad," I giggled.

"Why not?" he demanded. "Or is cocaine one of those illegal ones?"

"Yes, Dad."

"That's a bloody outrage," he declared. "Them legislators go and ruin everything on us, with their taxes and `this is illegal,' `that is illegal.' What harm would a drop of cocaine do you now and then? They've no bit of fun in them, at all, so they haven't."

"Yes, Dad." 280 / marian keyes

"Why don't you stay the night, Lucy?" suggested Mum. "The bed is made up in your old room."

I was filled with horror at the idea. Stay under her roof? Feel like I was trapped here again? Like I'd never escaped?

"Er, no, Mum, Daniel has to get home so I may as well go back up to town with him..."

"But Daniel can stay, too," said Mum excitedly. "He can stay in the boys' old room."

"Thanks very much, Mrs. Sullivan..."

"Connie," she said, leaning across the table and placing her hand on his sleeve. "Call me Connie, it seems a bit silly for you to call me `Mrs. Sullivan' now that you're all grown up."

Good god! She was acting, as though...as though, she was flirting with him. I could have thrown up.

"Thanks very much, Connie," repeated Daniel, "but I'd really better get back. I've got a very early meeting in the morning..."

"Well if you're sure. Far be it from me to interrupt the wheels of industry. But you'll come and see us again soon?"

"Certainly, I'd love to."

"And maybe you'll both stay the next time?"

"Oh, I'm invited too, am I?" I asked.

"Lucy," tisked Mum. "You don't need an invitation. How do you put up with her?" she asked Daniel. "She's very touchy."

"She's not too bad," mumbled Daniel. His innate politeness made him want to agree with Mum, his innate sense of survival reminded him that he would be foolhardy to annoy me.

It must be hard being Daniel, I thought, and feeling like you had to try and please everyone all of the time. Being lucy sullivan is getting married / 281

charming and amenable twenty-four hours a day must take it out of a body.

"You could have fooled me," said Mum sharply.

"Er, can we call for a taxi?" asked Daniel, eager to change the subject.

"What's wrong with getting the tube?" I asked.

"It's late."

"So?"

"It's wet."

"So?"

"I'll pay."

"Fine."

"There's a cab company down the road," said Mum. "If you're that eager to get going, I'll give them a call."

My heart sank. The cab company down the road was staffed by an ever- changing assortment of Afghani refugees, Indonesian asylum seekers and exiled Algerians, none of whom could speak a word of English and who, to judge by their sense of direction, had just arrived in Europe. I had every sympathy with their various causes, but I wanted to get home without having to go via Oslo.

Mum called them.

"Fifteen minutes," she said.

We sat around the table and waited. The atmosphere was awkward, as we tried to pretend that our ears weren't straining to hear the sound of a car's brakes outside the front door. None of us spoke. I certainly couldn't think of anything lighthearted to say that might dispel the tension.

Mum sighed and said stupid things like "well." She was the only person I knew who could say "well" and "another cup of tea?" bitterly.

After what seemed like ten hours I thought I heard a car outside the house so I ran out to have a look.

Sure enough, an ancient filthy Ford Escort had pulled 282 / marian keyes

up, and even through the gloom I could see that it was covered in rust.

"Here's our cab," I said. I grabbed my coat, hugged Dad and hopped into the car.

"Hello, I'm Lucy," I said to the driver. As we would be spending a lot of time together, I thought we might as well be on first-name terms.

"Hassan," he smiled.

"Can we first go to Ladbroke Grove?" I asked.

"Not much English," said Hassan apologetically.

"Oh."

"Parlez-vous fran�ais?" he asked.

"Un peu," he replied.

"Daniel, this is Hassan. Hassan, Daniel."

They shook hands and Daniel patiently tried to negotiate directions.

"Savez-vous the Westway?"

"Er..."

"Well, savez-vous the center of London?"

A blank look.

"Have you heard of London?" Daniel asked gently.

"Ah, yes, London." Understanding dawned on Hassan's face.

"Bien!" said Daniel, pleased.

"It is the capital city of the United Kingdom."

"That's the one."

"It has a population of..." Hassan went on.

"Can you take us there, please?" asked Daniel. He had begun to sound anxious. "I'll give you directions. And lots of money."

And off we went, Daniel occasionally shouting "A droit," or "A gauche." lucy sullivan is getting married / 283

"Thank God that's over," I sighed, as we drove away, Mum waving down the darkened road after us.

"I thought it was a nice evening," said Daniel.

"Don't be ridiculous," I said scornfully.

"I did."

"How could you? With that...that...mean old woman there?"

"I presume you're talking about your mother. And I don't think she's mean."

"Daniel! She never misses a chance to put me down."

"And you never miss a chance to rile her up."

"What? How dare you? I am such a good and dutiful daughter and I let her get away with so many insults."

"Lucy," Daniel laughed. "You don't. You wind her up and you say things to deliberately upset her."