A Time for Friends Page 14

  This should be an exciting time in her life, but today’s episode had left her thoroughly disgruntled and brought up truths that she didn’t want to have to face. She would buy her daughter something particularly nice in the duty free. Jazzy loved earrings and bling. Des could sulk in the executive lounge. She would go shopping. As well as treating Jasmine she’d treat herself too. What was the point of having pots of money if you didn’t spend it? Colette felt the anticipation of a spending spree begin to build. If comfort couldn’t be found in a visit to her parents it could be found in glitzy shops or even Dublin duty free.

  ‘Mummy, Mummy, what did you buy me?’ Jasmine raced into the hall when she heard her parents’ key in the front door.

  Colette smiled when she saw her daughter, her silky golden curls bobbing up and down, her periwinkle-blue eyes sparkling with anticipation. She was a little beauty, Colette thought proudly, sweeping the five-year-old up in her arms.

  ‘Hello, sweetheart,’ she exclaimed, hugging her tightly. Jacqueline hadn’t been a hugger; Colette hugged Jasmine all the time. Perhaps she’d been too hard on herself comparing her mothering skills, or lack of, to her mother’s, Colette decided.

  ‘No kiss for Daddy?’ Des dropped a kiss on top of his daughter’s head. ‘I’m going to change and go into the office. Lots to do before I go Stateside,’ he threw over his shoulder, striding along the parquet hallway with his luggage.

  ‘Would you like some tea, Ma’am?’ Elisabetta asked, emerging from the kitchen.

  ‘Love some, please, and will you sort out the luggage?’ Colette said, carrying her daughter into the lounge and plopping her down on the plump pale lemon-and-blue sofa that faced the enormous sash windows. The rays of the early evening sun cast glimmering prisms of light onto her Waterford Glass chandelier. That, and their paintings, would be coming to the States. That chandelier was a very impressive heirloom. Those snooty Uptown Wasps wouldn’t be able to fault her for her style and elegance, Colette decided, sinking wearily onto the sofa. She was tired after travelling and wouldn’t have minded a nap.

  ‘Where’s my present?’ whined Jasmine. ‘I want it now!’

  ‘Don’t be naughty,’ chided her mother, taking the small earring box and the bag with the jangly charm bracelet out of her handbag.

  ‘Is that all?’ Jasmine was astonished, grabbing the box eagerly. ‘It’s very small!’ Her pretty little face darkened.

  ‘See what’s in it,’ retorted Colette crossly, remembering such a scenario in her own childhood when Jacqueline had presented her with a silver Claddagh ring after an absence away and she had been disgusted.

  Perhaps she should get pregnant again, even though she dreaded the idea, Colette mused. She had always longed for a sibling. An only child could so easily end up becoming spoilt and precocious, just as she had been, Colette thought with a rare moment of self-awareness. Hilary’s two were great companions and after all she could afford a nanny. She’d bring up the subject with Des when they were settled into their new life in the USA, she decided as her daughter studied her new earrings and bracelet and looked decidedly unimpressed.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ‘Bloody black tie! I hate wearing monkey suits!’ Niall Hammond gave a hurricane-force sigh that blew tendrils of Hilary’s hair across her nose.

  ‘Stop giving out and just go to Black Tie and get fitted and book it today. This day next week we’ll be going to the wedding,’ she said drowsily, nestled in against him on an unseasonably wet Saturday morning.

  ‘The time is flying by – the girls will be on their school holidays before we know it. Do you think we could risk a quickie? I heard them going down to watch TV.’ He slid his leg over hers and she felt him harden against her.

  ‘You opportunist, you,’ she grinned, turning round to face him. ‘We did it last night.’

  ‘I’m a healthy young man with healthy young man urges,’ he grinned back, cupping one of her breasts and lightly stroking her nipple with his thumb until she gave a smothered groan and felt a lusty surge of desire. She loved morning sex when she was relaxed and rested and horny.

  ‘Mammmm!’ Sophie thundered up the stairs, followed by her sister.

  ‘Contra and Ception,’ Niall said drolly, drawing away as their daughters tumbled into the bedroom after a peremptory knock on the door.

  ‘Mam, she said the F word and then—’

  ‘Liar, liar pants on fire, you said the F word first!’ Millie was outraged.

  ‘Stop it this minute! Dad and I were trying to have a lie-in because we work so hard during the week and you two selfish girls have spoiled it. I don’t want to hear another word. Stop telling tales.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Out! Out! Out! And close the door behind you and feed the cat while you’re at it,’ Hilary said crossly.

  ‘I suppose you’re going to do sex!’ Millie accused, thoroughly disgruntled.

  ‘What?’ Hilary couldn’t believe her ears.

  ‘Kelly Maguire said parents do sex on Saturday morning. Eewwww!’

  ‘Kelly Maguire has too much to say for herself. We were trying to have a snooze – impossible in this house,’ Hilary snapped. ‘Now go away.’ She pulled the duvet over her head and tried not to laugh.

  ‘At least I wasn’t inside you.’ Niall threw his eyes up to heaven when the door closed behind their squabbling offspring.

  ‘Well what’s stopping you now? After all it is Saturday morning and according to Kelly Maguire sex is what we are supposed to be doing!’

  ‘I’ve lost my nerve,’ her husband laughed, tracing his hand down over her hip and drawing her to him.

  ‘Doesn’t feel like it to me,’ murmured Hilary as he entered her, remembering how they would spend Saturday mornings in bed riding each other ragged before they’d had children.

  The doorbell rang and Niall cursed as Hilary tensed. ‘Hurry,’ she urged, wrapping her legs around him, knowing it would only be moments before they would be interrupted again.

  ‘I can’t!’ he groaned.

  Hilary pushed him away, wriggled out from under him and got out of bed. ‘Who is it?’ she asked, opening the bedroom door when she heard Millie race up the stairs.

  ‘A boy is looking for money for a line cos he’s doing a five-mile walk for charity.’

  ‘There’s change on my locker,’ Niall said grumpily.

  ‘Here, give him this,’ Hilary sighed, handing her daughter some coins. ‘And if any more boys come tell them we’ve sponsored already.’

  ‘OK, Mam. Can I have a banana? I’m hungry.’

  ‘Yeah! I’ll come down and sort breakfast in a little while. Now don’t keep that boy waiting at the door.’

  ‘I’d better get up,’ Hilary sighed as guilt set in.

  ‘Ah hop in for another five minutes, I’ve hardly seen you this week, you can have my banana if you want,’ Niall urged, throwing back the duvet.

  ‘Niall! Five minutes, but let’s forget the conjugals, my nerves wouldn’t stand it,’ she agreed, snuggling in to him. ‘This day next week we’ll be up early dolling ourselves up to have a whole day to ourselves.’

  ‘Aawww, did you have to remind me of it again? Couldn’t you bring your new gay friend – they love weddings and dressing up,’ he suggested with an air of studied casualness.

  ‘Niall! Don’t describe Jonathan like that. It’s so disrespectful. I mean would you say “bring your heterosexual friend” if I was bringing Colette or someone? And don’t come if you don’t want to,’ she added huffily, trying to shuffle off his arm that was tight around her.

  ‘Don’t get in a snit,’ he appeased. ‘I just thought he might like to go, seeing as he’s into fashion and the like. That’s a lovely dress he found for you.’

  ‘Yes it is,’ Hilary agreed, mollified. She had mentioned to Jonathan in one of their tri-weekly phone calls that she had to go shopping for a dress for an upcoming wedding and she was dreading it.

  ‘Where are you going to go for it?’ he asked.
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  ‘Oh I don’t know,’ she sighed. ‘I suppose I should go to Brown Thomas or Switzers. It’s a posh do. I’d far prefer to go to Arnotts or M&S. But Colette will be wearing some designer outfit. I suppose they’ll all be wearing designer gear. It’s that sort of a wedding.’

  ‘Well we can’t have you looking like a Mary Hick in front of Little Miss Mufft,’ he joked.

  ‘Stop it,’ she giggled. ‘Colette’s not that bad and she is my oldest friend!’

  ‘If you say so I’ll take your word for it. She didn’t like me at all. She’s one of those friends who likes to have your whole and undivided attention and I’d be far too exuberant and irreverent in company for her. I’d want as much attention as she did,’ he said humorously. ‘Is your sister going shopping with you?’

  ‘God no, we’d end up rowing. She hates shopping even more than I do. She’d tell me I look good in a sack just to get me to buy something,’ Hilary said gloomily.

  ‘And what about Niall?’

  ‘Are you mad! We’d be divorced!’

  ‘I’ll come with you then,’ he’d offered. ‘I adore clothes shopping.’

  ‘Would you? That would be a bit of craic! We’d have a laugh.’ She’d been delighted with his unexpected offer.

  He’d been indefatigable, walking the legs off her, plucking dresses that she hadn’t even noticed off the racks. Making her twirl and parade in front of mirrors but never satisfied with what he saw.

  ‘How come you know such poshies?’ Jonathan asked, having taken pity upon her and agreed to her suggestion of a coffee to revive them. They chose the Westbury as it was near by and, after the noise and bustle of Grafton Street, Hilary enjoyed the calm serenity of the first-floor lounge as they sat eating cream cakes and drinking strong, aromatic coffee.

  ‘Rowena was actually a friend of Colette’s,’ she explained, offering Jonathan an éclair. ‘Their parents are legal friends and Rowena and Colette went to the same stage school—’

  ‘That figures,’ Jonathan said archly. ‘I bet Madame always got the principal role.’

  ‘You shouldn’t be so pass-remarkable,’ Hilary said, defending her friend.

  ‘Sorry. I just took agin her when she pooh-poohed our plans for our proposed interior design project. She was quite derisive.’ Jonathan grinned unrepentantly. ‘You were saying about Rowena?’

  ‘For some reason we always clicked. She likes trad so she’d often come to a session with me when Niall was playing. She’s lovely. You’d like her. She’s real dreamy and ethereal and doesn’t give a toss about keeping up with the Joneses type stuff. And Pete, her fiancé, is sound. He’s a floor manager in RTÉ. That’s where they met. She works in RTÉ’s make-up department but she hardly wears any herself.’ Hilary licked some cream off her finger. ‘Her father is loaded! He’s building them a big pile in North County Dublin.’

  ‘Lucky girl,’ sighed Jonathan, who longed to have a house in the country.

  ‘Do you know something – we’re doing the lighting. I must introduce her to you, I bet she’d love some advice about decorating,’ Hilary said, topping up their coffee and settling back in the comfortable armchair, legs stretched out in front of her.

  ‘Don’t get comfy,’ Jonathan warned. ‘This is just a pit stop.’

  ‘I can’t face any more,’ she moaned. ‘Let’s forget about it or else go back and buy that red-and-black dress in Pamela Scott. I liked that one.’

  ‘Hmm, it wasn’t bad but you could do better, I know it! The right dress is out there for you and we are going to find it.’ Jonathan was relishing the challenge.

  ‘But my poor feet are killing me,’ she protested.

  ‘Now, now, Granny, take a deep breath and centre yourself. I’ve got a place in mind where I think you could be lucky and it’s not far,’ he coaxed. ‘Humour me.’

  He had brought her to a small boutique off Clarendon Street that she didn’t even know existed and made for a rail of colourful cocktail and evening dresses, flicking through the hangers with a professional eye until he made a selection. ‘You’re so tall you should revel in it,’ he proclaimed, handing her a hanger with a rich cerise V-necked dress that flowed elegantly to the knee. ‘I have a feeling about this,’ he said excitedly. ‘Get in there quick.’ He led the way to the dressing room.

  ‘And perhaps this wrap to finish it off?’ the assistant offered helpfully, producing a gossamer-fine, silky cream wrap from another rack.

  ‘Ooohhhh! Yessss!’ approved Jonathan. ‘Perfect.’

  And it was perfect, thought Hilary gratefully. The ruched panelled V-neck showed off her tan and hid a multitude at the midriff and flowed gracefully over her hips to her knees. Sheer silk stockings and cream high heels and a clutch finished the wow factor and her husband’s eyes had widened in appreciation when she’d modelled it for him. ‘Verrrrry niceeee!’ he declared appreciatively as she pirouetted around for him.

  ‘That chap has great taste,’ he added a touch grudgingly. ‘He’s quite the all-rounder, isn’t he?’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Hilary looked at him, surprised.

  ‘Nothing, he just seems to be accomplished at everything he does,’ Niall remarked.

  ‘You hate coming shopping with me for clothes.’

  ‘I know,’ her husband conceded with a wry smile. ‘I couldn’t have done better myself.’

  ‘Nor could I,’ Hilary acknowledged, loving the way the ruches hid the round curve of her tummy, and emphasized her shapely waist. Left to her own devices, she would never have found as stylish and flattering a dress and knowing that she looked really good was an added bonus. It was going to be a big shindig and every social diarist in Dublin had been invited. Rowena had confided to Hilary months ago that the wedding was turning into a huge impersonal gala-style event and she didn’t know half the people who were coming. ‘I would have loved a wedding like yours – it was such a terrific hooley and so intimate. I swear to God, Pete and I just want to take to our heels and forget the whole thing,’ she said miserably, the very antithesis of the happy bride-to-be.

  ‘Great idea, if they want a lift somewhere I’ll drive them,’ said Niall when Hilary had told him of Rowena’s comment. Hilary knew if she did agree to his suggestion that Jonathan accompany her to the wedding her husband would actually be delighted. Niall and her new friend had yet to meet but they had spoken on the phone and enjoyed some banter and she was very confident that when they did meet they would get on very well.

  ‘Maaaam? Tipsy is coughing up a fur ball! I thinking she’s choking,’ Sophie yelled up the stairs.

  ‘Why is it always “Maaaam”? Why is it never “Daaad”?’ grumbled Hilary, getting out of bed for the final time.

  ‘Any chance of a cuppa while you’re at it?’ Niall tried his luck.

  ‘Every chance and I’ll have a grilled rasher sandwich while you’re at it,’ Hilary retorted, tying the belt of her dressing gown around her as Sophie’s yells reached a deafening crescendo.

  ‘I’m coming, stop panicking,’ she called exasperatedly, hurrying down the stairs to deal with the cat, the fur ball and her two hungry daughters.

  An hour later as they all sat finishing their brunch, the phone rang and Sophie answered. ‘Hi, Auntie Colette, I’ll get Mam for you,’ she said cheerfully. Hilary went out to the kitchen and tucked the extension line under her ear.

  ‘Hi, Colette,’ she said, setting about filling the dishwasher with the dishes her daughters had carried to the sink.

  ‘Hi, Hil, I was just wondering, Des is going to have to fly out ten days before we’d planned because something’s come up Stateside and I’m dreading leaving on my own . . . is there any way you could come over for my last couple of days in London? It’s the last time we’ll see each other for ages!’

  ‘Gosh, Colette, I don’t know if that’s on the cards. Niall is up to his eyes, and we’re fairly busy at work too,’ Hilary exclaimed, thinking how typical of Colette to think that Hilary could just drop everything and fly
to London for a few days.

  ‘Aww, I feel very sad and unsettled. It’s such a huge step moving to the States and I’d really appreciate your support,’ Colette said despondently.

  ‘But you’ve plenty of friends in London,’ Hilary pointed out.

  ‘Oh they’re all working or vacationing and besides you’re the only one who knows what I’m like when I get into a tizzy!’

  ‘Look, we’ll talk about it at the wedding, OK?’ Hilary suggested.

  ‘Thanks, Hil, I think we’re sitting at the same table. I did ask Rowena to put us at the Fitzwilliams’ table, because Shay and Des have a lot in common and they get on well and we have mutual friends in London but she said her mother was doing the table plans and she wanted the Fitzwilliams at Kenneth Reilly’s table. Honestly, Rowena should have some say!’ groused Colette petulantly.

  ‘Right!’ Hilary said drily. Typical of Colette that she didn’t even know how insulting she sounded, implying that sitting with Hilary and Niall was less than desired. Shay Fitzwilliam was a high-powered banker, jet-setter and go-getter, and it would be right up Des’s alley to schmooze with him at Rowena’s wedding.

  ‘And seemingly Eric Dunne’s ex-wife is kicking up a right royal row because he’s bringing that tarty blonde PR one he’s hanging around with, as his plus one!’ Colette prattled on, oblivious.

  ‘Fireworks so.’ Hilary filled the knife and fork container. ‘Poor Rowena. Listen, I have to go, we’ll see you at the church on Saturday, OK?’

  ‘Great, and think about what I said, we could have a lovely few girly days,’ Colette chirruped.