This is by way of being a cult fiction, having spent goodness knows how many weeks on the bestseller lists. The action mostly of the romantic variety - takes place during a long (very long) hot summer in a London populated by a group of girlettes and their various male hangers on. The eponymous Lucy never does get married, despite a tarot prediction to that effect in the first chapter, but after 740 pages of angst she's heading in the right direction by moving in with nice, rich, handsome, successful Daniel - who, of course, she has despised for years. There's a lot of predictable Oirishry (including the inevitable alcoholic father) and a few sparks of genuine humour; the tongue in cheek tone is similar to that of the TV ads for Philadelphia cheese, so if you like those, you'll love this.
