Lucy Sullivan Is Getting Married

by Marian Keyes

  “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 colour would you say they are?” demanded 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 colour,” 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.”

  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 certainly 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 surprised. “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 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 suggestion. 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 remembered. “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.”

  “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,” tsked 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 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 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 togethe
r, 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 Français?” 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 centre 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.”

  “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.”

  “I really don’t know what you’re talking about. And anyway, it’s none of your business.”

  “Fine.”

  “And isn’t she boring?” I continued almost immediately. “Going on and on about the bloody dry cleaners. What do we care about it?”

  “But…”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know…I think she’s lonely. She must not have anyone to talk to…”

  “If she’s lonely, it’s her own fault.”

  “…stuck in that house with only your dad to talk to. Does she ever get out? Apart from going to work?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so. And most important, I don’t care.”

  “There’s an awful lot of fun in her, you know?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “No, really, Lucy, there is. She’s still a youngish woman.”

  “She’s an old hag.”

  “You’re unbelievable!” said Daniel. “You are so unreasonable. She’s not an old hag. She’s very pretty. You look a lot like her.”

  “Daniel,” I hissed, “that is the worst thing you’ve ever said to me. It’s the worst thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  He just laughed.

  “You’re crazy.”

  “It was lovely to see Dad, though.”

  “Yes, he was quite nice to me,” said Daniel.

  “He’s always nice.”

  “The last time I met him he wasn’t.”

  “Wasn’t he?”

  “No. He called me an English bastard and accused me of stealing Ireland and oppressing him for seven hundred years.”

  “He didn’t mean you personally,” I said soothingly. “You were just a symbol to him.”

  “It still wasn’t nice,” said Daniel stiffly. “I’ve never stolen anything in my life.”

  “Never?”

  “Never.”

  “Not even when you were a little boy?”

  “Er, no.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Really sure?”

  “Well, fairly sure.”

  “Not even candy from a shop?”

  “No.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t catch that?”

  “No!”

  “There’s no need to shout.”

  “All right then! Yes! I suppose you’re thinking about that time in Woolworth’s when Chris and I stole those knives and forks.”

  “Er…”

  This was all news to me, but Daniel was racing ahead.

  “You never let me get away with anything, do you?” he demanded angrily. “You just ferret everything out of me. I can’t have any secrets from you…”

  “Why knives and forks,” I interrupted, puzzled.

  “Why not?”

  “But…what did you want with them? Why did you steal them?”

  “Because we could.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Because we could. We took them because we could. Not because we wanted them,” he explained to me. “The prize wasn’t what we acquired, it was the acquiring itself. The act of acquisition was the important part.

  “Oh.”

  “Do you understand?”

  “Yes, I think so. And what did you do with them?”

  “I gave them to my mother for her birthday.”

  “You mean pig!”

  “But I got her something else also,” he said hurriedly. “An egg timer. No, no, I paid for the egg timer. Don’t look at me like that, Lucy!”

  “It’s not because I thought you stole the egg timer. It’s because it’s an egg timer at all! What kind of present is that for a woman?”

  “I was young, Lucy. Too young to know better.”

  “What age were you? Twenty-seven?”

  “No,” he laughed. “I was about six.”

  “You haven’t changed much, have you, Daniel?”

  “How do you mean? That I still steal cutlery from Woolworth’s to give to my mother for her birthday?”

  “No.”

  “How then?”

  “By taking things just because you can.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about?” he said huffily.

  “Oh yes, you do,” I sang, happily.

  “I don’t.”

  “You do. Am I annoying you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m talking about women, Daniel. Women and you, Daniel. You and women, Daniel.”

  “I thought you might be,” he said, trying to hide a little smile.

  “The way you take them just because you can.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Lucy, I bloody well don’t.”

  “Well, what about Karen?”

  “What about her?”

  “How much do you like her? Or are you just amusing yourself with her?”

  “I really like her,” he said earnestly. “Lucy, I do. She’s smart and great company and pretty.”

  “Honestly?” I asked sternly.

  “Honestly.”

  “Are you serious about her?”

  “Yes.”

  “God.”

  A little pause.

  “Er, are you, you know…in love with her?” I asked cautiously.

  “Lucy, I haven’t known her long enough to be in love with her.”

  “Fine.”

  “But I’m trying to be.”

  “I see.”

  Another peculiar little pause.

  I really couldn’t think of one thing to say. And that had never happened with me and Daniel before.

  “Dad was quiet tonight,” I said eventually. “Very well behaved.”

  “Yes, he didn’t even sing anything.”

  “Sing?”

  “He usually treats me to several rousing choruses of ‘Carrickfergus’ or ‘Four Green Fields’ and makes me sing along with him.”

  I had an uncomfortable feeling that Daniel was laughing at Dad, but I didn’t want to find out for certain, so I said nothing.
>
  A long time later we arrived at my apartment.

  “Thanks for coming with me,” I said to Daniel.

  “Don’t be silly. I enjoyed it.”

  “Well, er, good night.”

  “Good night, Lucy.”

  “I’ll see you soon. You’ll probably be around to see Karen.”

  “Probably.” He smiled.

  I felt an unexpected rush of annoyance, the childish feeling of “He’s supposed to be my friend.”

  “Bye,” I said shortly, turning to get out of the car.

  “Lucy,” said Daniel.

  There was something unusual, something new in his tone, urgency perhaps, that made me turn and look at him.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Nothing…just…good night.”

  “Yes, good night,” I said, trying to sound exasperated. But I didn’t get out of the car. There was a funny tension that told me I was waiting for something, but I didn’t know what it was.

  We must be having a fight, I decided, one of the silent but deadly types.

  “Lucy,” said Daniel, again in that funny, urgent voice.

  But I didn’t say anything, I didn’t sigh and demand “what?” like I usually would have.

  I just looked up at him and, for the first time in my whole life, I felt shy with Daniel. I didn’t want to look at him, but I couldn’t stop myself.

  He put his hand up and touched my face and I watched him, like a rabbit caught in a car’s headlights. What the hell was he doing?

  He gently pushed my hair back out of my eyes while I sat rigid, staring at him.

  Then I came to life again.

  “Good night,” I yelled cheerfully, gathering my bag and moving toward the car door. “Thanks for the lift. See you soon.”

  “Oh, and bonsoir,” I called to Hassan. “Bon chance with the Home Office.”

  “Salut,” he called back.

  I ran toward the house and put my key in the door. My hands shook. I couldn’t get inside fast enough. I just wanted to get to my room and be safe. I felt really scared. What was the sudden tension between Daniel and me? There were so few people that I felt comfortable with, so few people that I considered to be friends. I couldn’t bear it if things went wrong with Daniel.

  But something was wrong, things had taken a turn for the very weird. Maybe he was mad at me for being mean about his girlfriends. Maybe he’d fallen in love with Karen and was feeling all protective about her.