sharply. ‘But I saw you throw it away . . .’
‘In the park,’ I finish. ‘I know, it’s impossible.’ I stare at the broken coin, my thumb running along the jagged edge. ‘There must be some mix-up. It must have got caught on my clothing . . . dropped into my bag accidentally . . . got lost somehow.’ I look back at both Robyn and Kate. For once my sister isn’t saying anything. Instead she’s staring at me, wide-eyed and silent with astonishment.
I can’t ignore it any longer. I can’t persuade myself it’s not happening. Because as weird and incredible and crazy as it might be, there’s something going on here, something very weird. I don’t know what to call it, and I don’t understand it, but there’s no denying it: the legend is coming true.
Despite the heat, a chill brushes over me and goose bumps prickle my arms.
Oh God.
What do I do now?
Chapter Twenty-One
Just like when we were kids, my big sister comes to the rescue.
‘You need a strategy,’ she instructs, drawing herself up to full lawyer mode.
‘Oh, you mean like reading her horoscope?’ suggests Robyn brightly.
Kate throws her a withering look. ‘No, I mean a plan of action to achieve a particular goal,’ she explains briskly. ‘We use them all the time in law. We have to apply one to your situation by creating a systematic approach to solving this current problem and methodically working through the aims until the desired outcome is accomplished.’
I look at her blankly. ‘Can you say that again, but in English this time?’
She tuts impatiently. ‘It’s perfectly simple. You want to break up with Nathaniel, but something or someone appears to be preventing this from happening properly.’
‘Like the legend,’ pipes up Robyn.
‘Or Nathaniel himself,’ retorts Kate, who after a brief moment of astonishment has swiftly gone back to her original opinion.
‘Look, I don’t care what it is. I just want it to be over.’
‘OK, follow me. Let’s get to work. Magical legend or no magical legend, this will do the trick. Trust me, no one is going to stick around after this. And I don’t care what you say about your universe,’ she adds, throwing Robyn a stern look. ‘Universe schmooniverse.’
Robyn looks offended. ‘You can’t alter the course of destiny,’ she says stiffly.
‘Just you watch me.’
‘It won’t work. The laws of our world have no bearing on the laws of the universe.’
‘So do you have a better plan?’ scoffs Kate. ‘What are you suggesting? Hocus-pocus? Crystals? Chinese herbs? We need to get aggressive and tough.’
‘I just think you’re being very closed off,’ says Robyn sulkily.
‘What do you expect? I’m a lawyer,’ she deadpans. ‘I’m not paid to have an imagination.’
Kate doesn’t waste any time, and armed with a briefcase full of notepads, biros and her famous highlighter pens in every colour, she marches us to a nearby diner to prepare our case. I’ve never seen my sister in action before and I’m scarily impressed. Swiftly turning a red vinyl booth into an office, she rolls up her shirtsleeves, instructs the hapless waiter to ‘keep the coffee coming’ and starts talking tactics.
Six intensive hours later, and buzzing with a heady cocktail of caffeine and exhaustion, sh’€exhaustioÛ, se finally comes up with the Strategy. Underlined twice, and highlighted in fluorescent orange, it runs into a four-page, twenty-five-point document and is entitled ‘How to Get Rid of the One.’
1.
Take out a restraining order.
This was Kate’s immediate suggestion – ‘Well, having a lawyer for a sister and a cop for a brother-in-law has to count for something,’ she’d argued – before reluctantly conceding that the courts might take a dim view of our case: ‘My Honourable Judge, I’m here to request a restraining order to prevent the defendant, Lucy Hemmingway, being stalked by the accused, Nathaniel Kennedy, as her friend on Facebook, through his TV show Big Bucks and by their song, Bob Marley’s ‘No Woman, No Cry’, playing on the radio.’
Exactly.
Better is her idea that I turn up at his apartment unannounced and:
2.
Tell him you love him.
A sure-fire winner if ever there was one. The plan being that I declare my undying love and – poof – watch him disappear for ever.
Just in case extra ammunition is needed:
3.
Don’t shave your legs beforehand.
So that I can turn up in a skirt.
4.
Grow your underarm hair.
Better still, team it with a spaghetti-strap top.
5.
In fact, go the whole hog
and grow your bikini line too.
Then cross my legs Sharon Stone style.
6.
Leave off the deodorant.
It doesn’t sound like much, but right