A Time for Friends (19 page)

‘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.

‘Will do,’ Hilary replied, wondering what her friend would say if she said ask Shay Fitzwilliam’s wife to come over to London and cry on
her
shoulder. She hung up,
annoyed. Colette was always the same. Me, me, me. Hilary decided not to tell Niall about the conversation or let him know they were seated at the same table. He put up with Colette out of loyalty
to Hilary but he had no time for Des. ‘A self-important spoofer,’ he’d called him after their first encounter. Nothing over the years had helped change his opinion. Listening to
Des bragging about the promotion in the States, as he undoubtedly would, would do Niall’s head in. And then he’d get grouchy. Perhaps her husband’s suggestion that she ask
Jonathan to accompany her wasn’t such a bad idea after all. What was it about weddings? They could be such ordeals. And somehow Hilary had the feeling that Rowena and Pete’s wedding
wasn’t going to be the best wedding she was ever at.

‘Now there’s macaroni cheese, chicken casserole and some goodies in the fridge. And the phone number of the hotel is by the phone in the hall if you need it.
Don’t let the girls stay up too late and—’

‘Mam, Auntie Colette is on the phone for you.’ Sophie bounced into the sitting room where Hilary was giving last-minute instructions to Carla, their babysitter.

‘Sorry, Carla, excuse me for a minute.’ Hilary went out to the hall and took the receiver from her daughter. ‘Hi, we’re just getting ready to leave and—’

‘Hilary, I have a HUGE favour to ask,’ Colette interrupted.

‘What’s that?’ Hilary asked warily.

‘Elisabetta, Jazzy’s nanny, had a tummy bug and couldn’t travel – could Jazzy please stay with your two? I’ll give the babysitter the extra cost for minding her.
I’m really stuck. Mum tried a few of her friends’ daughters but they were all doing something. I suppose it
was
short notice.’ Colette sighed theatrically.

‘Umm well, I’d better check it with Carla, she’s the one who’s babysitting,’ Hilary replied, nonplussed.

‘Oh she won’t mind, I’m sure. A few extra quid will go down a treat,’ Colette said airily.

‘Let me check it out with her,’ Hilary said firmly. Trust Colette to have a drama at the last minute. She walked back into the sitting room where Carla was French-plaiting
Millie’s hair. ‘Listen, Carla, and feel free to say no if you want to, my friend Colette is on the phone. Her little girl’s nanny couldn’t travel from the UK with them and
she has no one to mind Jasmine and she was wondering if you would look after her too. She’d pay you extra, needless to say.’

‘Aw Mam, nooo! Not Jazzy, she’ll ruin everything. She’ll want to play her games her way and she’s just
too
bossy,’ Sophie protested vehemently.

‘Now don’t be like that, Sophie. Jasmine’s younger than you and she’s an only child. She has no sister to play with,’ Hilary reproved.

‘I don’t mind, Hilary, it’s fine with me,’ Carla said obligingly, giving Millie a cuddle. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t let this Jazzy boss anyone around cos
I’m
the boss.’ She winked at Sophie.

‘Are you sure?’ Hilary didn’t want her treasured babysitter to feel pressurized.

‘It’s all good,’ Carla assured her. ‘Go and enjoy the wedding and don’t rush home.’

‘You’re a pet,’ Hilary said warmly, knowing how lucky she was to have a terrific babysitter. The girls loved her, she’d been their babysitter since they were very small
and Hilary felt very confident leaving them in her care. She went back to the phone. ‘That’s fine, Colette. Drop Jazzy over, Carla said she’d mind her. I’ll get Niall to
pump up the airbed and she’ll make it up for her tonight.’

‘Super duper, I knew I could depend on you,’ Colette said gaily. ‘Sorry we can’t give you a lift into town, Mum and Dad are sharing the car with us. How are you getting
in?’

‘Taxi.’

‘OK! We’ll see you with Jazzy in twenty minutes or so.’

‘Nope, we’ll see you at the church. The taxi’s booked to come in the next ten minutes and I’m not paying him to keep the meter running,’ Hilary said firmly.

‘Oh!’ Colette wasn’t expecting this. ‘Right then! I’ll just drop Jazzy in and pay your babysitter,’ she said a touch acerbically.

‘Fine, I’d better go and root out the blow-up bed. See you at the church.’ Hilary hung up and went in search of Niall to tell him the latest.

‘Typical,’ he retorted when she thrust the navy-and-red blow-up bed and air pump at him.

‘Just pump it up, Mr Dishy, and hurry, the taxi will be here any minute,’ Hilary urged.

‘I want to sleep on the pump-up bed,’ Sophie announced.

‘No, I do, it’s my turn, you slept in it the last time,’ Millie protested.

‘Don’t start,’ warned Hilary, beginning to feel harassed. It was always the same when Jasmine was coming to stay. ‘If there are any rows I’ll tell Carla to put the
two of you in our bed and Jazzy can sleep in one of yours and we’ll sort it when we get home. Do
not
misbehave and annoy Carla, OK? Now I mean it,’ she said sternly.

‘OK!’ her daughters agreed sulkily.

‘Don’t be like that, girls. Behave yourselves. Give your mother a kiss and tell her to enjoy herself, and don’t spoil her day,’ Niall ordered as he began to pump up the
bed, his black shoes gleaming. He looked so handsome in his black tie gear, Hilary thought appreciatively, glad that he had backed her up.

‘Have fun, Mammy.’ Sophie flung her arms around her and Hilary hugged her. ‘You look gorgeous,’ her daughter approved.

‘I love you, Mam, sorry,’ Millie said as the doorbell rang.

‘I love you too, pet.’ Hilary gave her a kiss, so glad that her children generally were very good-natured and not prone to holding grudges.

‘It’s your taxi, Hilary,’ Carla called.

‘Bring us home some wedding cake.’ Millie slipped her hand into Hilary’s as Niall gave the bed a few last pumps before following them down the stairs.

‘They’re good kids,’ he said proudly, waving at them from the taxi as they stood on either side of Carla blowing kisses enthusiastically.

‘Yeah, we’re very lucky.’ Hilary nestled in against him.

‘Carla will have her hands full when the little madam arrives. I give them five minutes before a row starts.’ Niall put his arm around her.

‘Carla won’t stand for any nonsense. She’s a brick! And one thing I do know, Colette will pay her well over the odds. She’s not stingy.’

‘True and good for Carla but she’ll earn it today.’

‘But you and I are going to knock as much fun out of today as we possibly can. Let’s watch all the Joneses outdoing each other!’

‘Yeah, let’s see how the social elite behave. I’ll try not to belch and eat with my mouth open,’ he teased.

‘Spoilsport. Could you imagine the faces of Jacqueline and Frank if you let off a magnificent rasper?’ she chuckled.

‘Don’t tempt me, Hilary, don’t tempt me,’ her husband laughed as the taxi headed for the Southside.

‘Mummy, I don’t want to stay here, I want to go to the wedding.’ Jasmine scowled at her mother. ‘I want to be a flower girl!’

‘You have to stay here with Millie and Sophie—’

‘But I don’t
want
to!’ Jasmine stamped her foot.

‘Jazzy, behave,’ Colette hissed. ‘Carla, thank you very much,’ she said, handing the babysitter an envelope. ‘We’re very obliged to you. See you. Be a good
girl for Carla, Jazzy,’ she cautioned, hastening out the front door.

‘Muuummaayyyyyyy!’ wailed Jasmine but Colette kept going without looking back.

‘Don’t cry, Jazzy, we’ll mind you,’ Sophie, ever the soft heart, said kindly.

‘I don’t want you to mind me, I want my mummy,’ screeched Jasmine.

‘Well your mummy’s gone,’ Carla said calmly as the car disappeared from view. ‘How would you like to go to Howth on the DART to see the seals and we’ll bring a
picnic?’

‘That’s a silly idea! I don’t like your stupid DART. I go on the tube, you know. I live in London.’

‘Good for you,’ Carla smiled. ‘But we’re going on the DART and we’re having our picnic and you can tell us all about living in London.’

‘We’re going to live in America. We’re going to Disneyland,’ Jazzy informed her.

‘You’re lucky,’ Sophie said enviously.

‘Well we
are
very rich, you know.’

‘Are you?’ Sophie was wide-eyed.

‘Stop boasting,’ Millie said crossly. She had been so looking forward to their jaunt with Carla, but now they were going to have to listen to Jazzy bragging about everything!

‘Right, girls, let’s get a move on. There’s a DART at ten past two, let’s be on it,’ Carla said briskly, much to Jasmine’s disgust. She didn’t like that
this strange girl was bossing her around. But there was something about her firm manner that led Jasmine to believe that Carla wouldn’t take any nonsense so throwing a tantrum wouldn’t
get her anywhere.