A Time for Friends Page 17

  ‘Just about, but don’t do it again,’ her friend warned.

  ‘And would you have let Christmas go by without ringing me?’ Colette asked, still amazed that Hilary had held out for so long.

  ‘It’s a possibility, for sure,’ Hilary answered. ‘But we’ll never know now, will we?’

  ‘You never sent a card.’

  ‘Did you deserve one?’

  ‘I suppose not,’ Colette conceded. ‘Did you get the parcel?’

  ‘Yes. I was undecided whether or not to put it under the tree,’ Hilary said coolly.

  ‘Oh!’

  ‘But now that you’ve phoned and apologized, a first, I may add, I probably will.’ Hilary softened. ‘Now I really do have to go. I’ve to fit in visits to the parents and I’m way behind schedule. Happy Christmas, Colette. I’m glad you rang.’

  ‘Me too. Happy Christmas, Hilary. I’ll call you in the new year,’ Colette said eagerly.

  ‘Do that,’ Hilary agreed. ‘See you.’

  ‘Bye, Hilary. I’m glad we’re talking again.’

  ‘Me too. Talk soon.’ And then she was gone, and Colette heaved a sigh of relief. Hilary was still a bit cool, but at least they were back on track, and that was all that mattered.

  ‘You’re a big softie.’ Niall shook his head.

  ‘It’s Christmas and she made the first move and I don’t like holding grudges.’ Hilary resumed chopping parsley and thyme. The kitchen was filled with the aromas of Christmas, herbs, spices, candle wax, pine, and a tape of seasonal songs and carols added to the festive atmosphere in the Hammond household.

  ‘She won’t change, you know,’ her husband warned her.

  Hilary laughed. ‘I know that, Niall. I’m not a complete idiot. Someday we’ll drift apart or she’ll push me so far there won’t be any turning back, but that’s not today, and I’m glad she phoned. It shows she values the friendship at some level, and that’s all that matters for the moment. Now be a good husband and pour me a glass of wine, because you’re driving tonight, and I want to get into the Christmas spirit,’ Hilary instructed briskly.

  ‘Ho! Ho! Ho!’ grinned Niall, pouring a glass of Merlot for his dearly beloved.

  ‘Ho! Ho! Ho! to you too,’ laughed Hilary, raising her glass to him. ‘And to absent friends,’ she added before taking a sip of the ruby liquid, glad that there was no longer an estrangement between her and Colette.

  PART TWO

  Millennium Year 2000

  BOOM!

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ‘I’m really sorry, Jonathan, I thought we would have been out of here ages ago. Someone collapsed so the clinic’s running way behind and Mrs Hammond’s not been seen yet. I’ll be with you as soon as I can,’ Hilary murmured into her mobile as she stood in the busy hospital corridor outside the warfarin clinic where her mother-in-law was waiting to be tested.

  ‘Why couldn’t “The Secretary” bring her?’ Jonathan asked snippily, referring to Hilary’s sister-in-law, Sue. He called her ‘The Secretary’ because she was always banging on about being the PA to a busy property developer, or, as Jonathan called him, ‘A-Builder-with-Attitude’.

  ‘She’s too busy and couldn’t take the time off work,’ Hilary said flatly.

  ‘Oh and you’re not too busy and it’s OK for you to take time off work and Mrs H is not even your mother,’ Jonathan grouched.

  ‘Stop giving out, I’ll be with you as soon as I can,’ Hilary retorted. ‘See you.’ She hung up, switched her phone to vibrate mode and slid it back into her bag.

  ‘Hilary dear, why don’t you go ahead. I know you have a meeting to get to. I’ll get a taxi home,’ Margaret urged when Hilary went back into the waiting room and sat down beside her mother-in-law.

  ‘Not at all, Gran, I rang Jonathan and told him I’d be a bit delayed and he can do his designer bits until I get there.’

  ‘He’s a lovely lad, I’m very fond of him.’ Margaret smiled, her grey eyes twinkling.

  ‘Me too.’ Hilary smiled back, thinking what a beautiful complexion her seventy-five-year-old mother-in-law had. Nivea Crème was her secret, Margaret assured her. She had used it since she was a young woman.

  ‘I feel bad about delaying you, dear. I know you’re busy,’ the old lady fretted.

  ‘Don’t worry about it at all,’ Hilary soothed. She didn’t want Niall’s mother feeling under pressure. Margaret Hammond was a kind, gentle lady and a great mother-in-law and grandmother. She had welcomed Hilary into the family with open arms. Early in their relationship she’d confided to Hilary that of all the girls Niall had brought home, Hilary was the one that Margaret had hoped he’d marry. When the grandchildren had been born, Niall’s parents couldn’t have been happier and Margaret had been a very hands-on grandmother. When her husband had died, she had become even more immersed in their family, and sometimes Hilary felt she had two mothers.

  Sue, Niall’s sister, could not be more different and the relationship she had with Hilary was superficial and distant. She made fleeting appearances at family events but her lifestyle was so busy and all-consuming, family were way down the ladder. Brash and self-absorbed, Sue took no responsibility for her now elderly mother’s care, and as Margaret grew more frail, needing frequent doctors’ appointments, it fell to Hilary and Niall to do the lion’s share of caring. If she hadn’t been truly fond of her mother-in-law she would have been a bubbling cauldron of resentment, Hilary reflected when Margaret was finally called for her blood test.

  Her own mother was recovering from a bad dose of flu and between visiting Sally and cooking meals for both sets of elderly parents, as well as being up to her eyes at work, Hilary was feeling fraught and stretched. It was Sophie’s’ birthday at the weekend and her daughter wanted to host a sleepover for five of her friends. A daunting prospect.

  I’ll think about it tomorrow, Hilary thought, doing a Scarlett O’Hara on it and hoping against hope that Margaret might get away with a month before being tested again. She had been taking antibiotics and steroids for a chest infection and they played havoc with her warfarin.

  It wasn’t to be, and Hilary’s heart sank when the nurse gave them an appointment for the following fortnight. Sue would have to bring her mother to that appointment and that was the end of it, Hilary decided, not relishing the thought of the phone call she would have to make to her sister-in-law.

  ‘I know you’re in a hurry so we won’t stop for coffee,’ Margaret said when Hilary helped her into her coat.

  ‘Are you sure?’ she said, feeling a bit of a heel. She knew her mother-in-law loved their cup of coffee and scone after her warfarin test, but she really needed to drop her home and get to Castleknock to meet Jonathan and their new client.

  ‘We’ll do it again,’ Margaret assured her, slipping a pair of black-leather gloves onto her thin hands and grasping her walking stick firmly. She had broken her ankle in a fall and was only recently out of plaster and was a little unsteady on her feet. Hilary had offered to get her a wheelchair but Margaret wanted to get along under her own steam. If you gave in to yourself it was another step on the slippery road to dependency was her reasoning.

  ‘I’ll tell you what, let me get a few cream cakes on my way home and I’ll pop in for a cuppa later with the girls,’ she suggested, taking her mother-in-law’s arm and tailoring her pace to suit Margaret’s.

  ‘Lovely! I’ll have the fire lighting. I haven’t seen them since last week.’ Margaret perked up. Since Niall’s father had passed away two years previously she was lonely and loved company. Her granddaughters were her pride and joy and Sophie and Millie loved her dearly. But they were busy at secondary school now, their lives full, of study, sport and girly sessions with their friends. Sometimes she hardly saw them herself, if she was working down the country on a project, Hilary thought ruefully, hoping she hadn’t got clamped in the hospital car park.

  It was over an hour later that she swung into the circular drive of a large, detached, double-fronted, red-brick house in Castlek
nock and saw Jonathan’s black BMW parked beside a massive SUV.

  Hard to believe that Jonathan was now driving a top-of-the-range BMW. Hilary smiled, remembering a couple of boneshakers he’d driven in the early days of their partnership. He had come a long way from his studio flat, and his Civil Service job, in the past ten years. He had used every contact Kinsella Illuminations had provided – builders, electricians, quantity surveyors – to claw his way to the top. There was so much building going on, extending the commuter belt, he’d ended up decorating a slew of show houses along the east coast, from Dundalk to Gorey, while she’d handled the lighting design, and as their portfolio grew over the years of the Celtic Tiger, their work had multiplied.

  She pulled up behind the BMW and glanced in her mirror and frowned. She certainly looked stressed, she thought, noting the deepening lines around eyes and mouth. She needed to touch up her lipstick. She applied a slick of Mulberry Rose, sprayed some L’Air du Temps on her wrist and got out of the car. A squally gust blew her hair into her eyes and she shivered. It could very well snow, Hilary thought, looking at the leaden sky and the banks of dark clouds that were rolling ominously in from the east.

  A young woman with a baby in her arms answered the door. Early twenties, foreign, had to be the au pair rather than the client, Hilary surmised. ‘Ello, madam,’ the young woman said politely. ‘Madam ees expecting you. Let me take your coat and show you upstairs. Zhat ees where zey are now.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Hilary followed her in to a wide, bright hall, papered in an elegant grey, green and gold stripe above the white dado rail and painted a pale mint green below. Very nice, Hilary thought, admiring the sparkling chandelier and the gleaming bevelled wall mirror that made the hall look even more spacious and light.

  The baby smiled a huge toothless grin at her as she followed the au pair up the grey-and-gold-carpeted stairs and Hilary’s heart melted. She had a sudden, overpowering longing to cuddle the baby and feel its soft downy head against her cheek, nestled in against her. Oh for God’s sake! she thought wildly. Haven’t you enough on your plate without getting broody?

  ‘Ah there you are!’ Jonathan appeared at the top of the stairs immaculately turned out in his D&G ruby shirt, black trousers, and a black-and-ruby scarf knotted casually around his neck. His blond hair was perfectly highlighted and styled and Hilary felt guilty that she hadn’t made more of an effort with her own appearance. She was wearing a taupe trouser suit and black cami and a string of pearls but her indulgences at Christmas and the Millennium New Year celebrations had resulted in her piling on at least half a stone in weight. The waistband of her trousers was digging in to her. Her boobs were stretching the cami, which clung to her spare tyre, and she knew she had a VPL. At least she smelt perfumed, she thought ruefully, catching Jonathan’s gaze at her cleavage. She looked down and saw her glasses and a tissue tucked into her bra and managed to whip them out and shove them in her handbag before a slender young woman in jeans and a lilac cashmere jumper emerged from the bedroom Jonathan had come from. ‘Hi, you must be Hilary.’ She smiled. ‘I’m Andrea Keirns. Thanks for coming—’

  ‘Terribly sorry I’m late. I got delayed at a clinic with my mother-in-law,’ Hilary explained, hastily shaking hands.

  ‘No worries, Jonathan and I have had a wonderful time plotting and planning,’ Andrea said gaily, holding her arms out for the baby. ‘Yolanda, will you go and make us coffee, please, and serve it in the library,’ she instructed her au pair.

  ‘Yes, madam,’ the girl said dutifully, her long black hair swinging behind her from its high ponytail as she hurried downstairs.

  ‘I adore what you did with Rowena’s house. Her parents are friends of my mother’s,’ Andrea raved. ‘As I was telling Jonathan, this house was the family home, but my dad passed away several years ago and my brother is in Australia and it’s got too big for my mother to rattle around in on her own – it’s got five bedrooms – so me and my husband have sold our house and bought this one and Mum’s moved into the mews at the end of the garden. We want to do a big makeover and update it. I’d love to have a lighting system installed with dimmers and spots, and something similar, but different, to Rowena’s,’ Andrea explained chattily. ‘But needless to say I don’t want her to think I’m copying her,’ she added hastily. ‘I absolutely love the way you put the lights in the wall at floor level in the hall and landing, and the lights up the stairs. That was gorgeous!’ Andrea enthused. ‘And besides you designed that a few years back, it’s at least eight or nine years ago if I remember, so when we get ours done it will be even more contemporary, which is the look I’m going for.’

  ‘Expensive though, as I’m sure Jonathan has told you. All the walls will have to be chased and replastered,’ Hilary pointed out, shooting a look at Jonathan who gave a slight shrug.

  ‘Oh that’s no problem, we’ve remortgaged to get the job done. It’s fine,’ Andrea said airily. ‘I want to put my stamp on it and totally modernize it. All white walls, very minimalist, and wooden floors.’

  ‘Well off-white,’ Jonathan cut in smoothly. ‘With feature walls and splashes of colour in the accessories. You don’t want it to look too cold. I’m thinking crimson, mint green, and grey cushions, throws and lampshades to suit the look Andrea wants.’

  ‘Very nice,’ agreed Hilary, privately thinking what a shame it would be to change the relaxing pastel colour palette that Andrea’s parents had decorated the house in. It had a warm, welcoming feel and it didn’t need a whole lot of refurbishing, Hilary thought, eyeing the expensive luxury deep-pile carpets and the tasteful drapes and blinds. Even the softest of lighting could not completely take the cool look from white, no matter what colours accessorized the house. White was fine for hot sunny climates, she reflected as a sudden squall of rain hurled against the landing window and the dreary gloom outside emphasized the snug warm interior space she was standing in. House makeovers on TV had certainly caught people’s imaginations, but sometimes they were OTT and looked disastrous. Hilary had long ago learned that most clients knew exactly what look they wanted and it was up to her and Jonathan to advise and facilitate rather than impose their own tastes on a project.

  ‘Jonathan tells me you’re working on a lot of leisure centres and spas. I love going to Powerscourt Springs. Have you ever been?’ she asked eagerly.

  ‘Oh indeed we have!’ Hilary laughed. ‘When it opened a few years ago Jonathan and I hot-footed it down to Wicklow to see what all the fuss was about.’

  ‘We did a lot of “research” in Powerscourt Springs. Well that was our excuse,’ Jonathan grinned. ‘There’s a lot of new places springing up – if you’ll excuse the pun – but Powerscourt Springs led the way in health farms in Ireland, it was the first, and to my mind it’s still the best. Those views of the Sugar Loaf and the Wicklow countryside . . . wow . . . and that Tranquillity Room with the recliner couches – I have to admit, it was my inspiration for a few places I’ve designed myself.’

  ‘Me too,’ confessed Hilary. ‘I wouldn’t mind being there right now, sitting in that lovely lounge, wrapped in a towelling robe, looking out at that horrible weather, waiting for a facial or massage.’

  ‘Ooohh yes,’ agreed Andrea. ‘Or tucking into their gorgeous lunches. That walnut bread—’

  ‘Stop!’ commanded Jonathan. ‘You’re making me hungry. We need to focus on the job in hand,’ he added briskly.

  ‘Right well I’d like really soft lighting in our bedroom and en suite. Also I’m very tempted to break down the walls and have a freestanding claw-foot bath with antique fittings. I think that’s a fabulous look too. All white to match my white-lace Egyptian-cotton bedlinen. And I want white voile draped over the four-poster and white louvre blinds—’

  ‘I’m sure Jonathan has advised that you’d need to factor in steam removal so damp won’t become a problem if you go down that route,’ Hilary interjected, ever the pragmatist.

  ‘Indeed,’ Jonathan affirmed. ‘I’ve made all these points to And
rea, but this of course is just a preliminary discussion.’

  ‘Of course.’ Hilary smiled at her partner and he gave her a tiny wink.

  ‘And you know the way they play that very calming music in all the treatment rooms in spas? I’d really like to have a sound system installed as well,’ Andrea declared, waving a perfectly manicured hand in the air. ‘I don’t think Rowena has one.’

  ‘We can give you a quote for that too – we’ve worked with a firm who install them,’ Jonathan assured their client, who was seriously determined not only to keep up with the Joneses but to outdo them.

  It was all about impressing and outdoing people these days, he thought, amused at the notion that he, who had grown up in a small semi in a country town, decorating doll’s houses made out of shoeboxes, was now working in a business that catered for the most affluent of Irish society. It was far from health farms and claw-foot baths and sound systems you were reared, he thought, looking forward to telling his mother about his latest client. It would be interesting to see if Andrea and her husband would follow through with all their proposed renovations when they got their quote.

  Listening to Jonathan and Andrea discuss colour schemes for the refurbished bathroom Hilary felt some of the tension she’d been aware of begin to recede, and she slipped into working mode and took her big notebook from her briefcase and began to take notes and draw diagrams of the various rooms.

  Margaret Hammond stared out at the sleeting rain bouncing off the circular cream-and-brown ceramic table on her patio. Her garden, though rain-battered and windswept, was well kept, thanks to the gardener that her son paid for to come once a fortnight. Niall was a generous son, she couldn’t deny, but he expected a lot of Hilary. Her daughter-in-law had her own demanding job; surely he could have taken an hour or two off to bring her to the clinic. There was no point in Margaret expecting her daughter to take the time off. Sue was so absorbed in her own life she had no time for anyone else.