‘True! My part time consultancy hours mean I can suit myself. Can’t you get someone else to run your dad’s shop?’ Colette always called it the shop, never the showrooms or the business.
‘Aah, I wouldn’t do that to him and besides we’re very, very busy – business is starting to boom with all this Celtic Tiger stuff. We’re supplying a lot of hotels now. There are so many opening, I don’t know where they’re going to get the people to stay in them.’
‘I know! London’s buzzing! Des is making a mint in bonuses even if he is working practically 24/7. When you think of that terrible recession we grew up in in the eighties it’s hard to believe. Dickon and Austen’s have had to take on four new staff to cope with the demand for fine art.’
Hilary raised her glass. ‘Here’s to progress and good times!’ she toasted, just as Jonathan emerged onto the patio with Colette’s meal.
‘I’ll drink to that,’ he declared, placing the steak in front of her. ‘Here’s a herb butter sauce as an accompaniment. I raided your herb garden, Hilary,’ he said, pointing to the large fragrant herb-filled planter on the patio. ‘I’ll be back in a sec with the salad and more champers.’
‘It smells divine.’ Hilary inhaled the aromas wafting across the table.
‘It tastes delicious,’ Colette admitted grudgingly, chewing on a piece of the succulent tender steak, which was cooked just the way she liked it.
‘I’ll just raise my glass to good times and then I’ll leave you in peace. I’m sure you have lots to catch up on,’ Jonathan said diplomatically, placing Colette’s artistically arranged side salad beside her plate and refilling their glasses.
‘Aw, just sit down for another little while. Colette’s interest is in fine arts. She’s a consultant in a prestigious gallery in London, and she’s always seeing famous people,’ Hilary said, knowing that her friend loved name-dropping all the famous people who had been clients or who she’d met at viewings and launches.
Colette rose to the bait, as Hilary knew she would. ‘Oh well last week, would you believe, I saw Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter having dinner in San Lorenzo. I was dining with a client. Des and I eat there regularly—’
‘Do you ever see Princess Di there?’ Jonathan asked eagerly. He loved Princess Diana and followed her progress in Hello! which he always bought when she was on the cover.
‘Often,’ Colette shrugged. ‘And I’ve seen her shopping on the High Street. Always immaculate and so stylish, even in her casual clothes.’
‘Wow!’ Jonathan sat down and sipped his champagne.
‘And I was at a gallery exhibition recently and Helen Mirren was there. And I’ve seen Elton John too.’ Colette speared a piece of cucumber and lettuce. Whatever Jonathan had drizzled over it, it was a crisp and very tasty salad.
‘Helen Mirren, she is DIVINE!’ Jonathan enthused and Hilary smiled to herself as Colette relaxed and continued to regale Jonathan with anecdotes about her well-to-do life in London.
Just as well Niall isn’t here. He would have been bored out of his tree, she thought, having watched her husband’s eyes glaze over often enough when Colette and Des set out to impress.
‘I really must go,’ Jonathan said a couple of hours later. Dusk had changed to darkness and the candles and lanterns that Hilary had lit illuminated the patio and garden in a flickering wave of light casting dancing shadows around them. Down at the end of the garden, Hilary’s Buddha sat in Zen-like serenity under the benign gaze of a full moon. It was hard to believe they were in a city, it was so peaceful and private.
‘Don’t forget you have to bring your friend a burger,’ Hilary reminded him, standing up to see him out. ‘Will I call a cab for you?’
‘Not at all, I’ll get one over on the Howth Road, no problem at this hour of the night,’ he assured her. ‘Now where did I drop my bag?’
‘By the kitchen counter, I think.’ Hilary had a vague memory of him sitting on one of the stools with his bag at his feet.
‘Very nice to meet you,’ Jonathan said politely to Colette.
‘Likewise,’ she returned, equally polite.
Hilary linked his arm as they walked through the house. ‘I’m going to have the mother and father of a hangover tomorrow and it will be all your fault, but I had a lovely day and thanks for staying, even though it turned into a bit of a monologue with herself,’ she grinned.
‘Umm, she’s an interesting lady,’ Jonathan said diplomatically, retrieving his bag, and Hilary laughed.
‘Ring me tomorrow for a chat whenever it suits you. I’ll be going to collect the girls around lunchtime. But not too early,’ she warned. ‘I intend to sleep my brains out.’
‘Me too. I’m delighted to have met you,’ he said, hugging her.
‘Same here,’ Hilary smiled, and his hug was warmly reciprocated.
‘Now we can have a real heart to heart,’ Colette exclaimed, delighted to see the back of the interloper. She had enjoyed impressing him with her tales of London life, but she was finally glad to have Hilary’s undivided attention.
Oh no! thought Hilary. She was tipsy and tired, ready for bed. But Colette was re-energized and went into the house to locate another bottle of wine. ‘Only a small glass for me,’ Hilary protested weakly.
Ignoring her, Colette filled both glasses to the brim and sat down and said, ‘Now what do you think? Should I have a facelift in London or New York? It would probably be better to have it in London so I’m fresh when we move Stateside? And do you think I should get a boob job done? Pinky and perky are beginning to droop a little,’ she moaned, thrusting her pert bosom upwards.
‘They look fine to me,’ Hilary slurred. She wanted to put her head on her arms and lie down on the table and fall asleep.
‘No they are not,’ Colette assured her. ‘When I’m wearing a strapless dress I can feel the tug of gravity.’ But her words wafted off on the balmy breeze as Hilary’s head sank to her chest and she gave a tiny snore.
Jonathan leaned back against the leather upholstery and let the sounds of Dean Martin singing ‘Amore’ wash over him. The taxi driver was listening to a late-night programme on the radio and was not inclined to talk, for which Jonathan was utterly relieved. He hated chatty taxi drivers.
Today had been a cracker of a day. A real surprise. The course had been interesting and informative but meeting Hilary had been the icing on the cake. She was the biz. He smiled to himself as the taxi whizzed through Fairview, the park dark and uninviting on his left a contrast to the bright lights of the thronged pubs and restaurants on his right.
It was a shame that friend of hers had called. What a diva! She had spent two hours monopolizing the conversation and he could see that Hilary was a tad cheesed off with her. And what a name-dropper! He had pretended interest out of politeness, and there were times when Colette had been interesting but she hadn’t allowed anyone else to get a word in edgeways. It seemed she might be moving to the States, so perhaps he would never have to see her again. A relief, he thought. Especially as he just knew he and Hilary were going to be great pals. And he was definitely going to up his game in his lighting design on his latest commission. Actually he couldn’t wait, Jonathan thought happily. He had some terrific ideas about how to progress his new project and his future career and Hilary was definitely going to be a part of it.
It certainly wasn’t the evening she’d anticipated, Colette thought grumpily, waiting for the taxi she had called to arrive. Hilary was up in bed snoring, and she had been left to blow out the candles and bring the dishes and glasses into the kitchen and lock up. She was damned if she was cleaning up, although she did note that Jonathan had cleared up after cooking her meal, and he must have filled the dishwasher because there were no other dishes on the counter. He was a poncy little upstart who didn’t know his place, no matter what Hilary said. He’d made himself at home and was far too familiar for someone Hilary hardly knew, in Colette’s opinion.
The taxi driver flashed the lights when he arrived, seein
g her looking out the window, so she gave a wave and switched off the sitting-room lamps and walked into the hall. She thought she should leave the light on in case Hilary came downstairs later. Her friend was well jarred and she could easily fall down the stairs in the dark. Colette pressed the keypad to set the alarm and closed the front door behind her.
‘The Shelbourne,’ she said crisply, settling herself into the back of the taxi.
‘Off to a party, luv? Nice night for it,’ the driver said chattily.
‘No,’ she said curtly, hoping he would take the hint and shut up.
‘Nice houses around here,’ he remarked, undaunted, driving along The Middle Third.
Colette ignored him and sat staring out of the window. She was fed up. She’d wanted to talk things over with Hilary. She’d wanted her best friend to be impressed with the great new opportunity that was opening up for her and Des. She’d wanted Hilary to offer advice and assure her that everything would work out well for them. Instead she’d had to entertain a stranger that she didn’t particularly take to and make small talk for the entire evening.
Jealousy had raised its familiar head too, Colette admitted ruefully. When she’d seen how comfortable Hilary was with Jonathan, who had been lounging in the chair out on the patio when she arrived, she had been miffed to discover they’d only just met. And spouting all that guff about setting up in business together. That was drink talking for sure, she thought derisively. Hilary had enough on her hands with her father’s shop. There was nothing of the go-ahead career woman about her. She was far too laid-back.
Jonathan should have left, no matter what Hilary said. He should have known that she was only being polite when she’d pressed him to stay. And Hilary should have wanted to be on her own with Colette. It was ages since they’d seen each other! It was just like when they were young. She’d had to stake her claim on Hilary sometimes because Hilary’s other friends would squeeze her out. A hateful memory surfaced from deep in the recesses of her mind.
‘Do I have to ask her to my party?’
Now why had that come back to haunt her? Colette thought crossly.
She gazed out of the window at the capital. Dublin had undergone such a transformation in the last few years. Even though it was well after midnight the city was teeming, vibrant with Friday night revellers spilling out of pubs and restaurants and heading for clubs and discos. The quays had changed totally from the way she’d remembered them, shabby, dilapidated and neglected. Now they were developed and revamped; modern office buildings and refurbished period houses gave an elegant, polished air that the capital had lacked for a long time.
Progress had certainly been good for her home town, she thought wearily, stifling a yawn. It had been a long week and she felt exhausted. And tomorrow she had to face her parents and make excuses for not telling them that she was coming to Dublin. She was glad she was staying in a hotel tonight and not having to make an effort to do any more talking. Des wouldn’t be finished socializing until the early hours. He’d end up with his cohorts in the Horseshoe Bar in the Shelbourne, where the in-crowd gathered on a Friday night. If she was at home with her parents she’d have to sit up and talk and she wasn’t in the humour. How strange life was, Colette mused. When she was young she would have given anything for her parents to have had the time and inclination to sit and talk to her, and now when they wanted to spend time with her she didn’t care to spend time with them. Too late to turn back the clock now, Colette thought resentfully. Far, far too late.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘What do you mean you stayed in the Shelbourne? Why didn’t you stay with us?’ Jacqueline O’Mahony asked huffily when Colette phoned her the following morning.
‘It was easier to be in town. Des is here for work, there was a meal in Guilbaud’s for his Irish counterpart’s retirement do and now he’s gone to play a round of golf with some of the senior execs. I can meet you here in the Shelbourne or come over to Sutton.’ Colette tried to hide her irritation with her mother. Surely she who was always so busy working, socializing and entertaining her own colleagues could understand what a business trip was like.
‘Is Jasmine with you?’
‘No, it’s such a short working trip I didn’t think it was fair to bring her.’
‘That’s a shame, Colette. Your father and I would love to see her, we get so little chance as it is, and after all she is our only grandchild,’ Jacqueline said snippily.
‘Well you’re always welcome to come over to London whenever you want,’ Colette said, resting against the big plump pillows of the queen-sized hotel bed, nibbling on a luscious strawberry from the fruit cup she had ordered for breakfast.
‘You know how busy we are, professionally and socially,’ Jacqueline retorted.
‘Right back at you, Mum,’ Colette riposted coolly. She heard her mother’s sharply inhaled breath of exasperation.
‘Well, let me see then – we’re going to lunch in the golf club with the McAdams and dinner with the Reilly-Carrolls in town tonight. You could join us for either,’ Jacqueline suggested, brightening up. How wonderful to be able to show off Colette. She was so knowledgeable about art and antiques and was always so elegantly turned out. And Des, although she found him rather brash and opinionated, was undeniably successful.
‘Just as well we didn’t stay with you then. You’re quite booked up – we would have hardly seen you,’ Colette said lightly, if a touch sarcastically.
‘I wouldn’t have made the arrangements if I’d known in advance that you were coming, Colette. I’m sure you must have had some idea of when you were arriving,’ Jacqueline said sharply. ‘It doesn’t really matter about lunch, the club can fit you in without prior notice, but if you are coming to dinner I’ll need to ring The Commons and advise them that we will have two extra guests.’
‘Why don’t you and Dad stroll over to the Horseshoe after dinner and we can have a drink with you here?’ Colette suggested, not wanting to listen to her parents and the Reilly-Carrolls trying to outdo each other in loquacious legalese.
‘I suppose we could do that.’ Jacqueline tried not to sound disappointed. She wasn’t a fan of the Horseshoe Bar with its drink-fuelled, testosterone-filled atmosphere, and standing room only, thronged with journalistic hacks, minor celebrities, high-flying business tycoons, drunken politicians and legal eagles, all trying to outdo each other. ‘Or you could come to brunch or lunch tomorrow? What time do you fly back?’
‘Around 4.30.’ Colette struggled to suppress a yawn.
‘Well then come for brunch around 12.30 and that will give you plenty of time to get to the airport,’ her mother said briskly.
‘Let me check with Des, but I think that will probably work for us,’ Colette said, relieved that she had got off relatively lightly.
‘Excellent,’ Jacqueline approved. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing you.’
‘Me too,’ Colette reciprocated, feeling it was required of her.
‘And your father will be delighted,’ Jacqueline added.
‘Bye, Mum, talk later.’ Colette hung up and stretched, glad that their meeting was sorted and she hadn’t got too much of a lecture over not staying with her parents. Her mother was annoyed but that was her problem. Colette wasn’t going to let it affect her unduly. She had enough to worry about with this impending relocation and all it entailed.
She had pre-booked a facial and massage and she was going to have a leisurely day of pampering and shopping. A stroll along Grafton Street to Brown Thomas was just what the doctor ordered. She wondered would Hilary be interested in coming into town for lunch but then remembered that her friend was going to pick up the girls from her sister’s. Hilary would have the mother and father of a hangover anyway, Colette reflected, remembering how Hilary was sprawled asleep when she had left her the previous night.
She hoped that lanky, queeny friend of Hilary’s was suffering too. Colette scowled, still miffed at being made to feel she’d gatecrashed their private party. She would
n’t bother ringing Hilary to see how she was. She’d ring Lindsay Kennedy and Marcy Byrne instead and see if they were available for lunch. It would be good to meet and catch up with the Sutton gang and let them see how fabulous she looked and how well she was doing. Lindsay and Marcy were well-heeled ladies-who-lunch but they didn’t have anything like her wealth, style or status, Colette thought happily, throwing off the bedclothes to go and find her trusty Filofax. She used a mobile phone in London and it was so handy, but they were only coming into vogue in Ireland and most of her friends and acquaintances were, unfortunately, still slaves to the landline.
Colette poured herself another cup of coffee and took it to the chair by the big window that overlooked St Stephen’s Green. It was a glorious sunny morning, and the lush green of the trees, interspersed with frothy splashes of pink from late-flowering cherry blossom, was etched against a sapphire sky. A welcome foil to the lanes filled with slow-moving traffic that circled the Green. As bad as Piccadilly, Colette reflected, remembering how she and her teenage friends had invariably made their way to Grafton Street and the Dandelion Market on Saturdays, all those years ago. Just across the park where a big shopping centre now stood, Dublin’s most famous market had flourished. The old stables, mews and courtyards had hosted many fabulous stalls selling bang up-to-date fashions that had thrilled their youthful hearts. Colette even remembered seeing a very young U2 playing one of their first gigs in the courtyard, and had thought The Edge was the coolest guy she had ever seen.
She was happy then, and she hadn’t even realized it, too busy trying to impress her peers, and worrying about who would marry her or fretting that she would be left on the shelf. Spinsterhood was something they had all agonized about. She wondered if Hilary hadn’t made the first move towards marriage, causing her to panic, would she have ended up marrying Des?
A Time for Friends Page 7