A Time for Friends (21 page)

‘Ooohhh, sweetie,’ gushed the other woman, ‘you can’t leave yet, we’ve hardly had a drink together. Niall, we have to dance.’

‘No, we’re going.’ Hilary was firm. ‘You won’t be collecting Jasmine tonight, I take it?’

‘Do you mind if we don’t, lovie? It’s a bit late and we’ll be here for another while. I’ll pick her up in the morning and we’ll have coffee and a chat. Bye,
sweetie, bye.’ She kissed Hilary, waved at Niall and turned back to Barbara and Ronan.

‘Sweetie my ass,’ Niall said caustically as they stepped out into the refreshingly balmy breeze to hail a taxi. ‘You’re supposed to be one of her closest friends and she
made no effort, apart from sitting at the meal with us, to spend time with you, and she wants you to go to London in case she’s in a “tizzy” when she’s leaving. She has some
nerve. Don’t you dare put yourself out for that one any more. She uses you, Hilary, always has, and you deserve far better than that.’

‘We’ll see how I’m fixed,’ Hilary murmured, relieved when a taxi pulled in, putting an end to the conversation. She hated it when her sister and husband implied that she
was some sort of doormat in regard to Colette. They had been friends for many years. She was used to her and her ways, although there were times, such as today, when Colette
did
behave
badly and make her feel used. She was pushing it . . . hard.

All of the O’Mahonys were social climbers who had forgotten their roots, she thought crossly, thinking of how Jacqueline never invited Hilary’s mother to her really posh
soirées. Sally had been a very kind friend down the years, minding Colette for Jacqueline when she was young, but the more successful Jacqueline grew the looser the tie of friendship became.
Now it was only the annual party at Christmas for the ‘second tier’, as Hilary privately called the gathering, which included Niall and herself, who were invited out of duty and faux
largesse. Was that the way her friendship with Colette would end, she wondered as they drove through the thronged city streets, crowded with weekend revellers.

She
would
go to London, she decided impulsively. She would use Colette to have a few days away. It would be nice to lunch in one of the chic restaurants in Kensington and then go for a
stroll in the park, up to that beautiful palace that she saw so often in news reports of Princess Diana. And she could treat herself to some beauty treatments and a shopping spree. It had been ages
since she’d been on one and she could do with updating her wardrobe. A mini break would do her all the good in the world, Hilary decided, cheering up somewhat.
And
it would give her
an opportunity to tell Colette that she was behaving like a selfish little princess and it wasn’t acceptable. Hilary cut her a lot of slack, but not any more. It was time she made a
stand.

‘Grandma, Grandma!’ Jasmine flew into her grandmother’s arms around 10.30 the following morning when Jacqueline unexpectedly arrived to collect her. Hilary
had been expecting Colette so she had been surprised to find her elegantly turned-out mother on her doorstep, her navy Merc parked outside.

‘You were a dear to keep Jasmine, Hilary. I hope you don’t mind me coming so early but I want to spend time with her before they go away to the States, and I’m afraid both Des
and Colette are a little under the weather – it was a very late night. She asked me to tell you that she’ll phone you when she gets back to London,’ Jacqueline said in her
beautifully modulated voice that had no hint of her Dublin origins.

‘That’s fine, Mrs O’Mahony. Jazzy’s had her breakfast, and she was a very good girl,’ Hilary said kindly, handing the other woman Jasmine’s overnight bag and
thinking that the little girl cuddled into her grandmother was the spitting image of Colette when she was younger. She was glad to see the obvious bond between grandparent and grandchild.
Jacqueline was mellowing as the years went by, it seemed.

‘Well cheerio then and thanks again,’ Jacqueline said briskly, taking Jazzy by the hand and making for the door. ‘Enjoy the rest of your Sunday.’

‘I will and you too,’ Hilary said politely, thinking, as the Merc drove out of sight, how rude it was of Jasmine to not even say thank you and how lacking of Jacqueline not to insist
upon it.

‘So they’ve got bad hangovers – serves them right. At least we didn’t have to listen to them yakking about who they met and mingled with last night,’ Niall said,
pouring her a mug of fresh coffee he’d just brewed. ‘Come on, the girls are out the back on the swings – let’s take our papers outside and relax and we’ll go to
Clontarf Castle for lunch and not bother cooking today.’

‘You’re on,’ she agreed, picking up the
Sunday Tribune
Niall had bought earlier.

Her daughters were swinging happily at the end of the garden, the sun was warm on her face, Niall was sitting opposite her flicking through a Sunday supplement; she was a very lucky woman to
have such a happy family life, Hilary thought gratefully, thinking of Jasmine going back to her grandmother’s house to parents that clearly did not have her happiness as a priority in their
fast-paced lives. She wouldn’t swap her life with Colette’s for all the tea in China, that was for sure.

‘Darling, I’m
soooooo
sorry it’s been so long. Honestly, it’s all been
maaad!
’ Colette trilled gaily down the phone two months
later.

‘Is that so, Colette?’ Hilary said tartly. ‘You went off to London without even ringing to say goodbye. You never even thanked me for having Jazzy to stay for Rowena’s
wedding. You dropped Niall and me like hot potatoes that day, to lick up to the so-called movers and shakers. How rude was that?
And
I thought you wanted me to come over and stay for a
couple of days, when you were leaving. What happened to
that
plan? You went to America and didn’t even pick up the phone to contact me. Some friend you are, Colette
O’Mahony.’ Hilary couldn’t hide her anger. She had been sizzling about Colette’s behaviour for weeks and she was going to give vent to her feelings. This time she’d
really had enough! She’d had this conversation in her head for the last two months: now it was for real and she was glad to have her say.

‘Oh!’ Colette was taken aback by Hilary’s unexpected onslaught. ‘Well, things were
so
hectic, and so many people wanted to see me before I left, and then Carole
Curtis arranged a dinner in San Lorenzo the night before I went and I couldn’t very well turn it down, and it was all just craaazy! But listen, you’ll have to come over to New York
sometime this year. Apart from the humidity I
adore
it here. We are having a ball, we’ve got a fabulous apartment in Tribeca and we’ve spent a few weekends in the Hamptons and
Nantucket. We’ve made some great friends; I don’t know what I was worried about. And Jazzy
loves
it and
loves
her new au pair.’ Colette ignored Hilary’s
outburst completely as she always did when they rowed.

‘That’s great, Colette, I’m delighted for you,’ Hilary said flatly. ‘Just a word of advice about your new friends. To have a friend you have to
be
a
friend, which is something you don’t know
anything
about and—’

‘Oh don’t be huffy with me, Hil. You know you’re my
best
friend and I hate it when you’re cool,’ Colette begged.

‘Well you’ve a funny way of showing friendship, that’s all I can say,’ Hilary retorted. ‘You should be
ashamed
of yourself for treating me like this after
all these years. I’ve been a bloody good friend to you.’

‘I know. I know, I’m terrible, the worst friend ever,’ Colette agreed gaily. ‘Listen, I have to fly, that’s the doorman buzzing me. A Town Car has arrived to bring
me to the Met. I’m meeting the owner of a
fantastic
art gallery, Madeleine van der Post, for lunch. We’ll talk soon. I’ll fax you my address and phone number,’
Colette cooed. ‘Love to all and when you come to the Big Apple I’ll give you the time of your life and I’ll make it up to you, I
promise—’

‘Don’t bother your arse, Colette, because I won’t be coming to the Big Apple,’ Hilary said furiously. ‘I’ve had it with you, lady. You can go and get lost!
You’re no friend of mine!’ She slammed down the phone, livid at Colette’s bad behaviour.

Colette O’Mahony Williams could frig off for herself. She’d had more than enough of her.

‘Phew!’ Colette murmured, staring at the phone. She hadn’t expected Hilary to be
quite
as mad as she was. Surely she must have realized how crazy the
last months had been. She could be
totally
unreasonable sometimes. She’d expected a lecture for not being in touch but this was the first time Hilary had ever hung up on her.
And
said,
You’re no friend of mine!
That
hurt!

‘Narky cow!’ she muttered crossly, flinging herself on the sofa, and picking up the latest copy of
Vogue.
Hilary would get over her temper tantrum and call her back. She was
never able to sustain a row. She wouldn’t keep this one going, Colette thought confidently, settling down for a read of one of her all-time favourite magazines.

Typical of Colette to ignore her anger and rebukes and pretend everything was fine, Hilary raged, flinging knives and forks from the dishwasher container into the cutlery
drawer. Typical of her to take no responsibility for their friendship whatsoever. Typical! Typical! Typical!

‘I hope you told her to stick her invite,’ Niall said at supper that night when the girls were in bed and she told him about Colette’s phone call. ‘Colette has proved my
point over and over. She doesn’t
know
the meaning of the word
friendship
. There’s an old saying,
There comes a time when you have to stop crossing oceans for
people who wouldn’t even jump puddles for you.
That time is now, Hilary. Forget her, she couldn’t give a toss about your friendship and the sooner you recognize that the
better.’

‘Ah stop, Niall, it’s just the way she is,’ Hilary said, his words making her feel uncomfortable. She hated acknowledging the truth of what he was saying. It made her feel a
failure.

‘That’s all I’m saying, I’m off to bed, I’m whacked and I’ve an early flight.’ He kissed her and walked out of the kitchen.

Hilary sat with her hands around her mug of cocoa. Much as she hated agreeing with him on this, she knew her husband was right. Colette was on the other side of the Atlantic, had been there two
months without making contact. She was building a new life, just as she’d done in London. They had nothing in common any more and it was time to admit that she and Colette had never had a
real
friendship. They were more a habit, she thought in surprise. And a bad one at that. She wouldn’t be crossing the Atlantic, physically or metaphorically, for Colette any time
soon. It was time for letting go.

When Hilary hadn’t phoned three months later, Colette couldn’t stand it any longer. Even though she was up to her eyes settling in to her exciting new life,
attending functions, networking for all she was worth, finding her way around the city, every time she got a phone call she still expected it to be Hilary. They’d often gone for two months or
more without getting in touch, but never as long as this, and usually it would be Hilary who would ring.

It was almost Christmas, and Hilary hadn’t even sent a card. Unheard of! Colette had sent a card, and a parcel, to the Hammonds, with three fabulous Marc Jacobs leather handbags, and a
Ralph Lauren wallet for Niall that she’d got in the Black Friday sales after Thanksgiving. But not a word of thanks from Hilary. And she had made sure to enclose a card with her New York
address and phone number. Colette was rattled to say the least.

On Christmas Eve, before heading out to brunch at Tavern on the Green with her parents, who had flown over to celebrate the season with them, Colette slipped into the bedroom and dialled
Hilary’s number from the phone on her bedside table.

To her dismay, Niall answered. Colette swallowed. Pretend everything’s normal, she told herself. ‘Niall, Happy Christmas,’ she said brightly.

‘The same to you. Who’s this?’ he asked.

‘It’s me, Colette,’ she almost squeaked.

‘Oh!’ His tone was chilly, and her heart sank.

‘I just wanted to wish you all the compliments of the season and make sure the parcel arrived OK. Is Hilary there?’ she persevered.

‘Hold on and I’ll see if she wants to talk to you.’ She could hear the sound of Bing Crosby singing ‘White Christmas’ in the background, and one of the girls
calling Niall, looking for matches.

Probably to light a candle in the window, an old Irish custom on Christmas Eve, Colette thought, feeling lonely and homesick for her home town. Would Hilary talk to her? If she didn’t it
really was the end of their friendship, and Colette, for the first time, began to realize what a loss it would be to her. Hilary was like her big sister. Always there in times of trouble. Always a
shoulder to cry on, or a sounding board for advice. Her heart was thumping when she heard the phone being picked up. Would it be Niall to tell her that Hilary didn’t want to speak to her?

‘Hello.’ Hilary’s voice came down the line and Colette exhaled, not realizing that she had been holding her breath. The relief was so immense she forgot she was going to act
breezy and unconcerned.

‘I’m sorry, Hilary,’ she blurted. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please say you’re still my friend.’

‘Crummy timing as always, Colette,’ Hilary said. ‘I’m up to my elbows in stuffing.’ But Colette knew she was teasing.

‘Do you forgive me?’ she ventured.

‘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.