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Authors: Marian Keyes
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the showing of Apocalypse Now that was taking place on Megan's face.
Two seconds later, Mr. Simmonds arrived, also back from lunch. A sep- arate lunch from Hetty's lunch, he seemed peculiarly keen to emphasize. Apparently they had just bumped into each other at the front door--not that anyone cared.
He too looked appalled. He was obviously upset about Megan's blood being spilled, but I think he was more upset about where Megan's blood was being spilled. On the desks and files and phones and letters and docu- ments of his precious little empire.
He said that of course Megan must go to the hospital, and that of course I must go with her and when Meredia returned to say that the ambulance had arrived he said that she could go too. He said that Hetty had better stay behind because he wanted someone to hold the fort.
As I joyfully turned off my computer and got my coat, it suddenly struck me that whatever it was Mr. Simmonds wanted Hetty to hold, it certainly wasn't his fort.
lucy sullivan is getting married / 57
9 When we got to the ambulance, there was no room for Meredia. Undeterred, she said she'd get a taxi and see us there. As we drove away from the curb, I felt a bit like a pop star--it must have been the tinted windows and the small crowd of onlookers staring after us.
They were reluctant to leave, wringing the last few drops of excitement from the accident before they started to drift back to their lives, disappointed that the drama was over, and even more disappointed that someone hadn't died.
"He looked okay, didn't he?" said one bystander to another.
"Yes," came the bitter reply.
We spent four hours sitting on hard chairs in a crowded, manic, overworked emergency room. People with injuries far worse than Megan's or Shane's (the cyclist--by now we were all fairly intimate) sat waiting also, stoically holding in their laps whatever limbs they had severed and managed to retrieve. Trolleys with dying people on them were rushed past us regularly. No one seemed able to tell us what was happening or when Megan or Shane would be seen. The coffee machine wasn't working. The place was freezing.
"Just think." I closed my eyes in bliss. "We could be at work now." 58 / marian keyes
"Yes," sighed Megan, bits of dried blood flaking away from her face as she spoke. "What a stroke of luck, eh?"
"God." I smiled. "I was so miserable earlier. I wish I'd known what a treat I had in store for me."
"I hope I'll be seen soon," said Shane, looking anxious and confused. "Because they're waiting for those documents in WC1. They said they were urgent. Has anyone seen my radio?"
Shane was a bike messenger and had been en route to a delivery when he veered off his path and landed on Megan.
He kept kind of dozing off to sleep and then jerking awake and going on about his delivery in WC1. Megan and I exchanged long-suffering looks when he launched into it for about the tenth time, while Meredia smiled at him like he was a sweet little child and it gradually dawned on us that maybe he wasn't a moron and that perhaps he was concussed.
Apart from these regular bursts from Shane, conversation was desultory.
"Well, look on the bright side." I smiled at Megan, referring to her mu- tilated mouth. "You got the big split that you were promised by the fortune- teller. But I bet you weren't expecting it to be a split lip."
At that, Meredia jerked up straight like she'd been shot in the back and grabbed my wrist, digging her nails into me.
"My God," she hissed, staring straight ahead, a peculiar light in her eyes. Mad, actually, that was the word I needed. A mad light in her eyes. "She's right!" she said, still talking in the hissy voice, still staring into the middle distance. "My God, she's right!"
"I've got a name," I said, annoyed at her histrionics. And my wrist hurt.
"Hey, you're right," said Megan, starting to laugh. lucy sullivan is getting married / 59
"Ouch!" she complained, as her laughter started her face
Two seconds later, Mr. Simmonds arrived, also back from lunch. A sep- arate lunch from Hetty's lunch, he seemed peculiarly keen to emphasize. Apparently they had just bumped into each other at the front door--not that anyone cared.
He too looked appalled. He was obviously upset about Megan's blood being spilled, but I think he was more upset about where Megan's blood was being spilled. On the desks and files and phones and letters and docu- ments of his precious little empire.
He said that of course Megan must go to the hospital, and that of course I must go with her and when Meredia returned to say that the ambulance had arrived he said that she could go too. He said that Hetty had better stay behind because he wanted someone to hold the fort.
As I joyfully turned off my computer and got my coat, it suddenly struck me that whatever it was Mr. Simmonds wanted Hetty to hold, it certainly wasn't his fort.
lucy sullivan is getting married / 57
9 When we got to the ambulance, there was no room for Meredia. Undeterred, she said she'd get a taxi and see us there. As we drove away from the curb, I felt a bit like a pop star--it must have been the tinted windows and the small crowd of onlookers staring after us.
They were reluctant to leave, wringing the last few drops of excitement from the accident before they started to drift back to their lives, disappointed that the drama was over, and even more disappointed that someone hadn't died.
"He looked okay, didn't he?" said one bystander to another.
"Yes," came the bitter reply.
We spent four hours sitting on hard chairs in a crowded, manic, overworked emergency room. People with injuries far worse than Megan's or Shane's (the cyclist--by now we were all fairly intimate) sat waiting also, stoically holding in their laps whatever limbs they had severed and managed to retrieve. Trolleys with dying people on them were rushed past us regularly. No one seemed able to tell us what was happening or when Megan or Shane would be seen. The coffee machine wasn't working. The place was freezing.
"Just think." I closed my eyes in bliss. "We could be at work now." 58 / marian keyes
"Yes," sighed Megan, bits of dried blood flaking away from her face as she spoke. "What a stroke of luck, eh?"
"God." I smiled. "I was so miserable earlier. I wish I'd known what a treat I had in store for me."
"I hope I'll be seen soon," said Shane, looking anxious and confused. "Because they're waiting for those documents in WC1. They said they were urgent. Has anyone seen my radio?"
Shane was a bike messenger and had been en route to a delivery when he veered off his path and landed on Megan.
He kept kind of dozing off to sleep and then jerking awake and going on about his delivery in WC1. Megan and I exchanged long-suffering looks when he launched into it for about the tenth time, while Meredia smiled at him like he was a sweet little child and it gradually dawned on us that maybe he wasn't a moron and that perhaps he was concussed.
Apart from these regular bursts from Shane, conversation was desultory.
"Well, look on the bright side." I smiled at Megan, referring to her mu- tilated mouth. "You got the big split that you were promised by the fortune- teller. But I bet you weren't expecting it to be a split lip."
At that, Meredia jerked up straight like she'd been shot in the back and grabbed my wrist, digging her nails into me.
"My God," she hissed, staring straight ahead, a peculiar light in her eyes. Mad, actually, that was the word I needed. A mad light in her eyes. "She's right!" she said, still talking in the hissy voice, still staring into the middle distance. "My God, she's right!"
"I've got a name," I said, annoyed at her histrionics. And my wrist hurt.
"Hey, you're right," said Megan, starting to laugh. lucy sullivan is getting married / 59
"Ouch!" she complained, as her laughter started her face
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