Desperately Seeking - By Evelyn Cosgrave Page 0,22
announced that she’s off to South America, but you always feel she might. In a way it’s more surprising that she’s still here.
She never has a boyfriend for longer than a couple of months and she has certainly never let a man break her heart. All of the boyfriends are great, too – good-looking, intelligent, funny and absolutely crazy about her. But she has never fallen for any of them. She says she’s yet to find something she hasn’t already found somewhere else. Except for the part about broken hearts, I’ve always felt our attitudes to men are similar; she stays cool, while I rush in like a bad black-and-white heroine, but we end up not having found quite what we’re looking for.
There was a man on the scene at the moment, an out-of-work sculptor called Luke, whom Lucy quite liked, but it was obviously going nowhere. He’d been hanging around her flat a lot lately, but I think that was mainly because he’d just been evicted from his own.
Ruth and I avoid each other as much as possible. I’m sure a psychoanalyst would say I’m jealous of her because she got all the attention when we were younger and she’s still my mother’s favourite. But I don’t think that’s it. I just don’t like her. She’s needy and small-minded. She has no vision beyond her own life and absolutely no interest in mine. She lives out of my mother’s pocket. I don’t think she’s capable of making the smallest decision without consulting her. Of course, she doesn’t think much of me, either. She says I’m a selfish know-it-all who never thinks of anybody but herself. She may be right. She’s married to Phil, whom I have no real opinion on, but if he was the only person left in a room for me to talk to, I would leave the room.
If Lucy’s my favourite sister, then Marion’s my second favourite. She’s not as soft as Lucy but I think it’s her clear-headedness I admire. She calls a spade a spade, and sometimes no other name will do for a spade. She has always looked a little older than she is – or maybe ‘settled’ is the word, but now, in her late thirties, she has grown into herself and appears very youthful. Her skin has always been fabulous and she’s taken very good care of it. Her strong features are arresting, whether she wears makeup or not. She has never obsessed about her appearance: she’s either quietly confident about it, or she doesn’t give a damn. She’s not an effusive person but in her quiet way she’s happy, and it’s always nice to be around happy people.
It was Jean who was arriving now, thankfully diverting Mum. Mike had brought some fancy wine he’d got over the Internet so there was a huge commotion while Dad hauled out his books and established its pedigree. Mum thought it was so thoughtful. Mike is the favourite son-in-law.
Further commotion – Ruth playing the martyr with some drama about how she’d tried every single shop in town for the low-salt crackers Mum claims to like but couldn’t find them so she’d brought three alternatives instead – allowed Mike to drift away from Party Central and into the conservatory to find Lucy and me pouring a glass of Pouilly Fumé for him.
‘C’mere, Mike,’ hollered Lucy. ‘It’s safe! There’s only ourselves and a very nice bottle of wine.’
‘Hey,’ he said, pulling up a chair beside us but remaining standing behind it, ‘congratulations. Congratulations, Kate! This is great news!’
He stood for a moment longer behind the chair, then walked rather clumsily round it to plant a kiss on my cheek.
‘Thanks!’ I said, pleased to have his approval. I felt he had witnessed every fiasco of my life and I wanted him to see I could get it right for once. ‘I know it’s a bit quick, but what the hell, I’m not getting any younger. And I want to have a great big wedding while Mum and Dad can still afford it.’
‘Oh, it’s all on the parents, is it? I thought modern couples paid for their own.’
‘God, no! Why should ye ould ones have had it easy and we young things have to suffer because times have changed a bit? Daddy always said he’d pay for our weddings, isn’t that right, Luce?’
‘Listen, leave me out of this. If I ever do get married, I certainly won’t be having a wedding.’