Marian Keyes - Lucy Sullivan Is Getting Married (32 page)

Sometimes there were lots of us, sometimes just me and Gus. But always there was the still, warm air, the clink of glasses, the hum of conversation.

The sun didn't set until late and the sky never really became night. The blueness just intensified and changed to a darker shade, then only a few hours later, the sun rose again on another dazzling day. And the heat changed people, it made them so much nicer.

London was full of chatty, friendly people, the same people who slunk around miserably the rest of the year. Their mood was rendered open and Mediterranean by being able to sit in the street at eleven o'clock at night wearing a T-shirt and not freezing to death.

And when you looked around at a beer garden full of people, it was ob- vious who had a job and who was unemployed. Not just because the un- employed ones never bought a round, but because they had great tans.

It was always too warm to even think about eating until ten or eleven in the evening, when we would wander languidly along to some restaurant that had all its doors and

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windows opened onto the street, and drink cheap wine and pretend that we were abroad.

Every night we went to bed with the windows open, covered only by a sheet and it was still too hot to sleep.

It was impossible to imagine ever being cold again. One night I was so warm that, in desperation, I poured a glass of water over myself in bed. Which was very pleasant. And the height of passion that it incited Gus to was even more pleasant.

There was always too much to do. Life was a nonstop parade of barbe- cues, parties and nights out, or at least that's how I remembered it. There must have been some nights when I stayed in and watched TV and went to bed early but, if there were, I can't recall them.

And not only was there lots to do, but there were lots of people to do it with. There was always someone to go out with. Quite apart from Gus, that is, who was available for outings every night.

There was never any danger of wanting to go for a drink and having no one to go with.

The people from my office often came out with Gus and me. Even poor Meredia lumbered along and sat and gasped and fanned herself and talked about how faint she felt.

Jed and Gus got along very well--at least after a while. When they first met they were like two shy little boys who wanted to play with each other but didn't know how to go about it. But eventually they both emerged from behind the folds of my skirt and made overtures. Gus might have offered to show Jed his new lump of hash, something like that. Then there was no stopping them. I barely got to speak to Gus on the nights that Jed came out. The pair of them had long, heads together, sotto voce conversa- tions that I suspected had something to do with lucy sullivan is getting married / 387

music. Boys often talked about that kind of thing. Where they tried to outdo each other by remembering the name of some obscure group that someone played guitar with before he left and played guitar for another. It could keep them occupied for days.

But whenever anyone asked Jed and Gus what they were talking about they would just say mysteriously, "It's a guy thing, you wouldn't under- stand."

Which earned them indulgent smiles until the night they said it to Charlotte's Simon.

The two of them constantly bitched about Simon and his ever-changing array of slick, fashionable clothes and his electronic personal organizer and the copy of GQ he always had about his person. But there was no need for them to be so obvious about it.

They never missed a chance to upset poor Simon.

"Is that a new T-shirt?" Gus asked Simon one night. Gus had a butter- wouldn't-melt-in-his-mouth expression that signaled trouble.

"Yeah, it's from Paul Smith," said Simon proudly, holding out his arms for us all to get a good look at it.

"We're twins!" said Gus engagingly. "It's just like the ones I got in Chapel Street market, five for five pounds. But I don't think the fella who sold it to me was one of the Smiths, I thought they were all arrested last month for receiving stolen goods. Are you sure it was a Smith?"

"Yes," said Simon, tightly. "I'm sure."

"Maybe they're out already," said Gus vaguely. And then moved on to something else, happy that he had ruined Simon's enjoyment of his new T-shirt.

The long-awaited evening rolled around when Dennis finally met Gus. Dennis shook hands with Gus and smiled politely. Then he turned to me and made an anguished 388 / marian keyes

face and put his knuckles in his mouth. "A word in private," he said and dragged me across the pub.

"Oh Lucy," he moaned.

"What?"

He put his hands on his face in distraught manner and whispered dra- matically, "He's an angel, an absolute angel."

"You like the look of him?" I was suffused with pride.

"Lucy, he's DIVINE!"

I had to agree.

"It's so rare to come across a good-looking Irishman," went on Dennis, "but when they get it right, they really get it right."

Dennis commandeered Gus that evening, which made me quite edgy. Dennis constantly insisted that all was fair in love and war. At least when he liked someone else's boyfriend, he did. And later that night, when Gus and I were going home on the bus, Gus said, "That Dennis is a friendly fellow."

Could Gus really be that innocent?

"Does he have a girlfriend?"

"No."

"That's a shame, a nice guy like him."

I braced myself for Gus to tell me that he was meeting Dennis for a boys- only drink later in the week, but thankfully he didn't.

"We must fix him up with someone," said Gus. "Have you any single friends?"

"Only Meredia and Megan."

"Well, it can't be that poor Meredia," said Gus sympathetically.

"Why not?" I asked, all defensive.

"Well, isn't it obvious?" said Gus. lucy sullivan is getting married / 389

"Isn't what obvious?" I sneered, getting ready to push him out of the seat and onto the floor of the bus.

"Come on now, Lucy, don't tell me you haven't noticed," he said reason- ably.

"That she's overweight?" I demanded hotly. "That's a lovely attit..."

"No, you big idiot," he said. "I don't mean that. Jesus, Lucy, that's a shocking thing to say, I wouldn't have expected that from you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Meredia and Jed, of course."

"Gus," I said earnestly. "You're fucking crazy."

"Maybe," he agreed.

"What do you mean `Meredia and Jed'?"

"I mean that Meredia is very fond of Jed."

"We're all very fond of Jed," I said.

"No, Lucy," said Gus. "I mean she's fond of the idea of Jed in his birthday suit."

"No, she's not," I scoffed.

"Yes, she is."

"But how do you know?" I asked.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Not to me."

"Well, it is to me," said Gus. "And you're the woman, you're the one who's supposed to have the intuition."

"But, but...she's too old for him."

"Well, you're older than me."

"Only by a couple of years."

"Anyway, love knows no age," said Gus wisely. "I read that in a fortune cookie."

Well, well, well. How thrilling. The romance! The intrigue! Love among the threatening letters.

"And does he like her?" I asked eagerly, suddenly very interested. 390 / marian keyes

"How would I know?"

"Well, you must find out. You talk to him, he talks to you."

"Yes, but we're men, we don't talk about that kind of thing."

"Promise me that you'll try, Gus," I pleaded.

"I promise," he said. "But it still doesn't solve the problem of Dennis not having a girl."

"What about Megan?"

Gus made a face and shook his head. "She has notions, that one. She thinks she's it. She'd think she was too good-looking for Dennis, even though he's a handsome guy."

"Gus! Megan isn't a bit like that."

"She is," he muttered.

"She isn't," I insisted.

"She is," he insisted back.

"Have it your way," I said.

"That'd make a welcome change," he said gloomily.

When I debriefed Dennis afterward, first of all he told me that Gus was gorgeous, then he told me that Gus was gay. No surprises there. But then he defused the celebratory tone of the conversation by asking about Gus and his money situation.

"Oh that," I said dismissively. "It's not a problem."

"But does he have any money?"

"Not much."

"But you two go out all the time."

"So what?"

"Have you been to any of his gigs?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because he gets most of his work in the winter." lucy sullivan is getting married / 391

"Just be careful, Lucy," warned Dennis. "He's a heartbreaker, that one."

"Thanks for the advice, Dennis, but I'm able to look after myself."

"No, you're not."

I saw a lot of Charlotte and Simon over the summer. When the usual suspects were rounded up for a postwork drink, they were nearly always to be found in the thick of things.

Then they went to Portugal for a week. They asked Gus and me to go with them. Or rather, Charlotte asked me to come and said that I could bring Gus along, if I wanted. And not to worry about him and Simon squabbling.

But Gus and I didn't have enough money to go--not that I minded, be- cause my life felt like a holiday anyway.

Gus, Jed, Megan, Meredia, Dennis and I went out to the airport to see them off, because we all had become so attached that we couldn't bear to be parted.

For the week they were away, we had lots of conversations like "What do you think Simon and Charlotte are doing now?" and "Do you think they're thinking about us?"

Even Gus missed Simon. "I've no one to make fun of," he complained.

The night that they came back, everyone was so ecstatic that there was a wild celebration. We drank all the duty-free vinho verde that they had brought home. The evening was deemed to be a great success when Char- lotte vomited and had to be put to bed.

During that summer, the only people who didn't come out and play were Karen and Daniel.

I barely saw them.

Karen spent most of her time in Daniel's apartment. She stopped by at our place occasionally to pick up a 392 / marian keyes

change of clothes, just running in and out while Daniel waited in the car.

Daniel and I never saw each other on our own anymore. In fact we didn't even call each other.

Which gave me a sense of regret, because that was the kind of sentimental, emotional fool I was. But I didn't know what to do about it; there was no road back.

So I tried to focus on the good things in my life--namely Gus.

I realized just how serious Daniel and Karen had become when the news broke that they were going to Scotland together in September. From the gleam in Karen's eye, she thought she was home free with Daniel. It was only a matter of time before she could start fighting with her mother about the inviting of fifth cousins four times removed and comparing the respect- ive merits of lemon meringue pie and baked Alaska.

I wondered if she would ask me to be her bridesmaid. Somehow I thought not.

One Saturday night, all of us--me, Charlotte, Simon, Gus, Dennis, Jed, Megan, even Karen and Daniel--went to an open-air concert in the grounds of a stately home in north London.

Even though it was classical music, we had a wonderful time. Stretched out on the warm grass, listening to the rustle of the leaves in the still evening air, sipping champagne, eating sausage rolls and mini-eclairs.

After the concert was over, we decided we had had enough of behaving like adults and we hadn't yet wrung enough debauched enjoyment out of the evening. It was only midnight and going to bed before the sun rose was regarded as a wasted night.

So we bought lots of wine from a twenty-four-hour shop lucy sullivan is getting married / 393

that was happy to break the law and piled into several taxis and went back to our apartment.

Where there were no clean glasses, so Karen volunteered me to wash some.

While I was in the kitchen dashing cups under the running tap, resenting every moment that I was away from the fun in the front room, Daniel came in searching for the corkscrew.

"How are you?" I asked. Before I knew what had happened I'd smiled; old habits die hard.

"Fine," he said, looking bleak. "And you?"

"Fine."

An awkward pause.

"I haven't seen you for ages," I said.

"No," he agreed.

Another pause. Talking to him was like trying to get blood out of a turnip.

"So you're off to Scotland?" I said.

"Yes."

"Looking forward to it?"

"Yes, I've never been to Scotland before," he said tersely.

"And it's not just that, is it?" I teased gently.

"What do you mean?" He stared coldly at me.

"Well, you know, meeting Karen's family and all that." I nodded eagerly. "So what's next?"

"What are you talking about?" he said, tight-lipped.

"You know," I said, smiling uncertainly.

"No, I don't," he snapped. "It's just a bloody holiday, okay?"

"Christ," I muttered. "I remember when you used to have a sense of humor."

"Sorry, Lucy." He tried to grab my arm, but I shook it off and walked out of the kitchen. 394 / marian keyes

My eyes filled with tears, which was really scary because I never cried. Except when I had PMS, and that didn't count.

Or whenever there was a program about Siamese twins who had been separated and one of them died. Or whenever I saw an old person hobbling down the road on their own. Or whenever I went into the living room and everyone yelled at me for coming back without the clean glasses. The bas- tards.

But despite the high-profile presence of Meredia, Jed, Megan, Dennis, Charlotte and Simon in my life, there was no denying that it was The Summer of Gus.