A Time for Friends

by Patricia Scanlan

  ‘You always know who plays on your team,’ Jonathan assured her confidently. ‘He’s been eyeing me up all morning so Mona Lisa is barking up the wrong tree there,’ Jonathan smirked.

  Hilary laughed. Mona Lisa was a spot-on description of the slightly round-faced, dark-haired girl with the protruding eyes, who had introduced herself as Jacintha and informed them, as Jonathan politely handed her a cup of coffee, that she was an architect with a ‘cutting edge’ firm in Merrion Square. She believed in using the medium of architecture in a ‘sculptural’ way, she informed Hilary and Jonathan, who listened politely, as she earnestly declared that a lighting design course would add to the services she could offer to clients. She had looked down her superior little nose when Jonathan told her that he worked in the Civil Service. ‘So you haven’t been to uni full-time then? Just courses here and there?’ Jacintha sniffed.

  ‘I’ve been to the University of Life, and how,’ Jonathan drawled with a theatrical sigh.

  ‘And what do you do?’ Jacintha had turned to Hilary who had been about to say that she worked in her dad’s business when Jonathan cut in.

  ‘Can you believe it, Jacintha? Hilary is the MD of her own lighting and electrical business, as well as a mother of two! This lady is a DY NA MO!’

  ‘Oh! Right,’ Jacintha said, casting a supercilious glance over Hilary who was wearing black trousers, black espadrilles and a white broderie anglaise top. Jacintha was dressed in a sharp, tailored grey trouser suit, worn with a red-silk cami that was stretched tightly across her bountiful bosom. She tottered on her skyscraper heels and carried a YSL briefcase.

  ‘I suppose you have to keep up to date?’ she observed, glancing around the room to see who else she might be interested in talking to.

  ‘Indeed,’ murmured Hilary, who was finding it hard to keep her face straight as Jonathan was standing slightly behind Jacintha and flaring his nostrils and arching his eyebrows.

  ‘Are you into er . . . interior design too?’ Jacintha sounded bored and was clearly making polite conversation.

  ‘Of course,’ Hilary shrugged. ‘It’s intrinsic to my business; good lighting can only complement and add an extra dimension to any room.’

  ‘But with interior design you either have it or you don’t, it’s innate, unlike architecture which can be learned. Don’t you agree?’ Jonathan interjected smoothly, turning to Hilary.

  ‘Absolutely.’ She nodded emphatically. ‘You have to have a flair for sure.’ Hilary only said that because she thought the other girl was so smug and dismissive. She had never given the matter much thought.

  ‘I don’t actually agree with you on that point. Enjoy your coffee,’ Moon Face had retorted before drifting off to try her luck with Mr Brown Cords.

  ‘I’m devastated!’ Jonathan murmured and Hilary giggled. Her companion was great fun and really adding to her enjoyment of the course. ‘Very patronizing, wasn’t she? She nearly fell off her high heels when I said you were an MD.’ Jonathan grinned.

  ‘You weren’t letting her get away with anything. She’s so up her own posterior.’ Hilary eyed the last biscuit on the plate longingly.

  ‘Some people bring out the worst in me,’ Jonathan confessed, taking a gulp of coffee. ‘I must warn you, if we are going to be buddies, that I have a terrific inner bitch.’

  ‘Oh me too,’ Hilary grinned. ‘And she could probably out-bitch yours.’

  ‘Excellent!’ Jonathan approved. ‘I think we are going to get on like a house on fire. Now eat that last biscuit, you look as if you are in need of vittles, and then I really must go to Louisiana before we start back.’

  ‘Me too, I shouldn’t have drunk that second cup of coffee,’ Hilary said as they made their way to the restrooms.

  She touched up her make-up and brushed her hair. She was glad she’d come to the course. It was vital to keep up to date with developments and new lighting designs, but today didn’t seem like work with Jonathan sitting beside her, whispering witty asides.

  She felt she’d known Jonathan Harpur all her life. She felt completely comfortable with him and he seemed very relaxed with her. Easy! That’s what they were . . . easy together. A most unexpected bonus on this lovely sunny Friday, away from the business, and home, and all their demands.

  ‘Do you know what would be great?’ Jonathan said as he wolfed down a steaming bowl of Irish stew, while Hilary made short work of a succulent lamb shank. They were having lunch in a pub on the quays not far from the hotel.

  ‘What would be great?’ she asked, mopping up some gravy with a piece of bread.

  ‘We could go to some of those lighting fairs together. Did you see the timetable of fairs Mr Personality gave us? Frankfurt, Belgrade, Moscow, Stockholm. Helsinki. The world is our oyster, missus.’

  ‘I have a husband and two children,’ she reminded him.

  ‘A minor detail, my dear!’ Jonathan said airily, giving a discreet burp. ‘Sorry,’ he apologized. ‘I just feel so comfortable with you. I forgot we’ve only just been introduced.’

  ‘Weird, isn’t it? I feel as if I’ve known you forever.’ Hilary replenished their water from the jug with the mint and lemon floating prettily in the middle, thinking that the colours would be a good match.

  ‘Funny, I think that too. We’re going to be great friends, you and me.’ He smiled at her. ‘And now I have somewhere new to source my lighting requirements, with the discount of course,’ he teased. ‘Seriously though, I can’t wait to see your showrooms.’

  ‘If you’ve nothing on this evening, you could come and have a look,’ Hilary said impulsively. ‘My children are having a sleepover at my sister’s and my husband is abroad working for a few days. I had planned to catch up on housework. I’ve nothing else on. I could rustle us up something for dinner.’

  ‘Forget about rustling up, we can order in, Chinese, Indian, I’m all for the easy life. What do you want to go cooking for when you don’t have to?’ Jonathan remarked. ‘And we could polish off a bottle of vino if you cared to.’

  ‘I’m liking you even better!’ Hilary grinned. ‘But if you shift Mr Brown Cords in the meantime, I’ll understand,’ she joked.

  ‘Now that is what I call a true gurlfriend,’ Jonathan laughed. ‘I just need to ring my other gurlfriend, Orla, and make sure she’s OK. She lives in the flat above me and has been dumped by a Kerry man and is in the horrors as well as having bad lady pains. I don’t want to drop her like a hot potato. Wouldn’t be fair. And besides she’d have my guts for garters and make my life a misery. You order the coffee while I go and give her a bell.’

  Jonathan seemed a very decent bloke. She liked that he was making sure that his friend was OK, Hilary approved, catching the waitress’s attention and mouthing, ‘Two coffees, please.’

  They had just been placed on the table when Jonathan arrived back. ‘All sorted,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I’m allowed to date you as long as I get her a cheeseburger on the way home.’

  ‘And is there any significant other in your life?’ Hilary asked, pouring milk into her coffee.

  ‘Tragically, no. I’m all alone and celibate as a nun,’ Jonathan sighed. ‘I was with someone for a while but it didn’t work out. He was sports mad and I couldn’t hack it. Standing on the sidelines watching him play badminton and shuttling that cock over the net did my head in eventually. It’s not even real tennis,’ he grumbled. ‘Do you know any sexy gay men at all?’ he queried hopefully.

  ‘Sorry, none that are unattached. I know one couple who are regular customers, and another guy who sources lights for his restaurants but he’s seeing someone,’ Hilary said apologetically.

  ‘Never mind, I’m immersing myself in my work for the time being anyway.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘We need to get a move on. Lunch is on me,’ he added firmly, taking out his wallet.

  ‘No!’ protested Hilary, rooting in her bag for her purse.

  ‘Yes!’ Jonathan gave her a stern look that made her laugh. ‘Don’t forget you’ll be giving me a dis
count. I’m just worming my way into your affections.’

  ‘Well I’m getting our takeaway tonight then,’ she responded equally firmly as a lipstick and one of Millie’s sparkly hairbands fell out onto the table.

  ‘Right, Mary Poppins, sort yourself and that bag while I go and pay.

  ‘I’m looking forward to the domestic lighting module. It sure beats the hell out of being stuck at work – it will be the happiest day of my life when I can resign from the Civil Service,’ Jonathan confided when they headed for the exit.

  ‘That’s a big step to take,’ Hilary remarked as they emerged onto the quays, the balmy breeze blowing their hair around their faces. The sun sparkled on the Liffey, a flowing, glittering ribbon of molten silver, and the scent of flowers from a street seller’s stall perfumed the air. A seagull squawked from the Jeanie Johnston’s masts and a small boat chugged towards the East Link Bridge, leaving a foamy swirl in its wake. She inhaled deeply and wished they had time to sit in the sun over a glass of wine and watch the world go by.

  ‘We all have to take a leap of faith sometimes,’ he said lightly, falling into step beside her.

  ‘Giving up a permanent and pensionable job isn’t a decision to be taken lightly.’

  ‘Yes, Mammy!’ Jonathan said drily.

  Hilary laughed. ‘That did sound a bit middle-aged all right,’ she conceded.

  ‘Don’t worry, I want to have a good portfolio of clients, and I’m getting there slowly but surely and you know where you and I should look for business?’ He steered her across Custom House Quay.

  ‘Where?’ She was intrigued.

  ‘Lots of hotels are having spa areas installed, and proper lighting is crucial. That’s the market we need to go after.’

  ‘Well, would you believe, we’ve supplied lighting for several hotels doing just that,’ Hilary said.

  ‘Supplied the lighting!’ He made a face. ‘We should design, supply and install. There’s a whole new market out there just waiting to be tapped in to.’

  ‘Are you suggesting we work together?’ Hilary exclaimed.

  ‘You’ve said it, missus. Hammond and Harpur Interior and Lighting Design Specialists. What do you think?’

  ‘I think it has a very good ring to it!’ Hilary grinned. ‘“Sculptural”, as Jacintha might say!’

  ‘Oooohhh bitchy, I like it.’

  Laughing, they made their way into the hotel, delighted with the unexpected bonus of new friendship that their design course had brought them.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘I really think it’s going to be me, Colette. I’ve just had an email from Daniel Burdell. Reading between the lines I think you and I are heading for New York.’ Des was on a high as they sat in the back of the chauffeur-driven car that was taking them to Heathrow. They’d entertained the Japanese businessman and his little dumpling of a wife to afternoon tea in the exquisite surroundings of the stately home and now luxury hotel that Cliveden House had become. She wished she’d had time to wander around and admire the antiques and paintings but she’d performed her wifely duty and made small talk with their guests, and Des’s potential client.

  ‘Jerry Olsen is going to go ballistic! Tough luck, Jerry boy!’ Des rubbed his hands.

  Colette sighed. Was it the line of coke he’d taken before they left, or was he really in with a chance for the promotion that would see them relocate to the US? She hated it when Des took coke. He was hyper enough without it, but the drug made him edgy and manic.

  ‘Let’s not count our chickens before they’re hatched,’ she murmured, but her husband wasn’t listening; he had resumed working on his laptop, tapping furiously as they sped along the M4. She gazed out of the car window noticing the iconic Round Tower and turrets of Windsor Castle in the distance. The flags fluttering in the breeze and great oak trees framing the view. In spite of her irritation with her husband, she still thought what a magical, otherworldly sight it was, conjuring up images of knights in shining armour jousting for their ladies. She had been to a weekend party years ago in a stately country house in Berkshire, soon after they’d married. A striking Piper painting of Windsor Castle hung in the gallery that ran the length of the house. Colette had thought it beautiful and had returned to gaze at it several times over the weekend incurring the displeasure of her husband.

  ‘For heaven’s sake, stop skulking here and come and mingle. We’re going grouse shooting. Go and change,’ he instructed.

  ‘Go without me, I’m not sitting shivering in that damp weather waiting for you to shoot some poor unfortunate birds. I told you that I wasn’t going shooting.’

  ‘Some help you are,’ he’d muttered angrily, stomping off, and she’d thought how exhausting it was climbing the social ladder sometimes.

  Colette grimaced at the memory. They had found their niche in London – her aunt’s connections had proved invaluable – and she was very comfortable with their place in the haut monde. If they went to New York it would almost be like starting afresh and those Waspy East Coasters were notoriously cliquish as she’d found on their frequent trips Stateside over the years. And they’d have to take Jasmine out of prep school and away from her little friends. It wouldn’t be easy. But, on the other hand, she loved New York. And what a feather in their cap it would be, and how impressed her parents would be, if Des got this plum job and they ended up living on the Upper East or West Side of Manhattan? The Met, MoMA, the Guggenheim, the Morgan and L&M, and so many more cultural delights, all on her doorstep. Des would have Wall Street but they would be her pleasures.

  Colette brightened up as they merged onto the M25 speeding towards the exit for Heathrow. She could see planes in their holding patterns circling in the distance and hoped there’d be no delays to their flight. It was rare these days to take off on time.

  Now that she was on her way Colette had started looking forward to her trip home to Ireland. She wouldn’t say anything about her husband’s job interview until it was in the bag, though. It would be too ignominious if she’d spoken about it and then Des didn’t get the position. Image was everything in your own home town.

  She’d tell Des to drop her at Hilary’s, and have a good chat with her friend about it. Colette wouldn’t mind saying it to her. She knew better than anyone the person behind the bright, self-confident façade Colette put up. She could always depend on Hilary for advice. Besides it would be more enjoyable having a drink and a chat with Hilary than having to make polite conversation with Des’s colleagues. He had reservations for dinner in Guilbaud’s, but tonight she wasn’t in the mood for fine dining, hovering waiters, and over-rich food. She actually had a strange longing for a kebab, she thought in amusement, remembering how Hilary used to go mad when she’d eat half of hers after a night out.

  ‘I want you to drop me off at Hilary’s when we get to Dublin. I’ll take a cab to the hotel later,’ she said as the driver swung around the roundabout and drove towards Terminal 1.

  ‘But we’re going to Guilbaud’s.’ Des looked at her, perplexed.

  ‘I’m not in the form, darling. I’m tired. That dinner for the Americans took a lot of work and energy and I just want to flop with Hilary for an hour or two and wind down.’

  ‘Fine, if that’s what you want,’ Des said, packing away his laptop. ‘Have you told your folks we’re coming over?’

  ‘No, I’ll ring them from the hotel tomorrow and we can arrange to meet up.’ Colette refreshed her lipstick and ran a brush through her hair as they pulled up at the set-down area.

  ‘They won’t be too happy that you haven’t let them know you’re coming,’ Des warned.

  Colette shrugged. ‘I know they’ll be in a huff. I’ll worry about that tomorrow.’ She slid gracefully out of the car, making sure she had her copy of Vanity Fair in her Louis Vuitton travel bag. She would read her favourite magazine in the comfort of first-class on the short flight home. Now that she was at the airport she was dying to surprise Hilary and have a good girly natter.

  ‘It was l
ike being in an Aladdin’s cave of lighting. They’re beautiful showrooms – you should be very proud,’ Jonathan remarked as he and Hilary divvied up spring rolls, crispy duck and lemon chicken and rice, in her kitchen. He had meandered around the showrooms, particularly enjoying the uplighters and downlighters and the glittering cascades of the sparkling chandeliers that were displayed artistically throughout.

  ‘Thanks. I like to keep up to date with new designs but I like classic fixtures as well. It’s all about keeping the balance right.’ Hilary drizzled hoisin sauce over the shredded duck and added some cucumber and shallots.

  ‘Were you always interested in lighting as a career?’ He topped up their glasses of Bin 555, their second bottle, and followed Hilary outside to a patio enhanced by an array of planters overflowing with vibrant, fragrant blooms, and where she had set a round mosaic table beneath a pale green parasol.

  ‘Oh nice,’ he approved, glancing around appreciatively.

  ‘I love being outside, now sit and eat,’ Hilary instructed.

  ‘The lighting career?’ he prompted as he sat opposite her.

  ‘Not at all,’ Hilary laughed. ‘I got lumbered with it. Dad has heart trouble and my sister was in the middle of her degree and I was just about to start university, so she couldn’t give it up and it fell to me to keep the show on the road, and here I am well over a decade later.’

  ‘And what would you have liked to have done?’ Jonathan asked, licking hoisin sauce off his fingers.

  ‘I wanted to study languages. I was good at French and Spanish at school. I became fluent in French when I worked as an au pair in Paris. I think all children here should learn languages in primary school. Nearly everyone on the Continent has two or more. They put us to shame.’

  ‘Mais oui.’ Jonathan took a bite of his spring roll. ‘Hmm, this is très bon or even muy bueno.’