Free Marian Keyes - Lucy Sullivan Is Getting Married by Marian Keyes Page B

met him before?" I asked. "She's been married for years." A thought struck me. "Oh no," I said in alarm. "Oh no. Don't let it be so."

    "What?" gasped Megan and Meredia in unison.

    "Please don't tell me that this is Dick's younger brother and he's been out in foreign parts--maybe Kenya or Burma or somewhere--for the past twenty years or so, like something out of Last Days of the Raj and that he's come back and he's all tanned and has blond floppy hair and he's lounging around in a white linen suit, and sitting in a rattan chair and drinking gin and looking at Hetty with lazy, come-to-bed eyes. I mean, I just couldn't bear it! It would be too much of a clich�."

    "Honestly, Lucy," scolded Meredia, "you have such an overactive ima- gination. No, it's nothing like that."

    "He hasn't given her an ivory bracelet?" I asked. lucy sullivan is getting married / 67

    "Well, if he did she didn't mention it," said Meredia doubtfully.

    "Phew." I breathed a sigh of relief. "Good."

    "It's Dick's older brother," said Megan.

    "Good," I said again. "Already this is going against the stereotype."

    "And she had never met him before because there had been some kind of family fight," continued Meredia. "Dick and Roger hadn't spoken for years. But they're the best of friends now.... Although maybe not, now that Hetty has..."

    I stared at the pair of them, at their happy, excited faces.

    "What's wrong with you, you miserable cow?" demanded Megan.

    "I don't know," I said. "It doesn't feel right."

    "Yes it does," sang Meredia. "The fortune-teller told her that she'd meet the love of her life. And now she has!"

    "But it's all wrong," I said desperately. "There's something wrong with Hetty and Dick. I mean, that was obvious when she got upset on the drive home from Mrs. Nolan's."

    Meredia and Megan sat silently and sullenly.

    "But instead of doing something about it, she believes some cock-a- mamie story from a charlatan of a fortune-teller..."

    "She wasn't a charlatan," interrupted Meredia angrily. "I didn't see her changing color."

    "That's a chameleon, not a charlatan," I said in exasperation. "Anyway, she's told that she'll meet the love of her life, so she latches on to the first man she meets, one who hasn't even got the decency to have a linen suit or a rattan chair, and without giving any thought to the consequences, she ups and runs off with him!

    "In fact," I added, "I think she was having some kind 68 / marian keyes

    of flirtation or something going with Poison Ivor--that's how miserable she was."

    I paused in case either of them needed to vomit. They both looked pale and sweaty, so I waited a short while before I continued.

    "We weren't wrong to get our tarot cards read, but we weren't supposed to take it seriously. It was only a bit of fun. Not some kind of solution to real problems."

    They were both silent.

    "Can't you see?" I begged them, but they avoided my eyes and looked at their shoes. "This isn't the right thing for Hetty."

    "But how do you know?" demanded Meredia. "Why don't you have any faith? Why don't you believe Mrs. Nolan?"

    "Because Hetty has real problems with her marriage," I said. "And they're not going to be fixed because she wants to believe she's met the love of her life. That's just escapism."

    "You're just scared," Megan suddenly blurted out, lopsided but passion- ate. She sounded angry and her face was flushed and emotional.

    "Of what?" I asked in surprise.

    "You're just afraid to admit that the predictions have come true for me and Meredia and Hetty, because you'll have to admit that your prediction will come true also."

    "Megan," I said in desperation. "What's wrong? I rely on you to be the sane one around here. The voice of reason."

    Meredia bristled angrily and visibly expanded, which was quite some- thing, as I had thought she was already at bursting point.

    "Look, Megan," I continued. "You don't really believe all this nonsense about predictions. Tell me you don't."

    "The facts