A Time for Friends (63 page)

And as for her father! Frank would pay dearly for her years of misery. If Des could no longer fund a lifestyle she had grown accustomed to, Frank would. Now
he
was the keeper of the
secret, and
she
was the one in charge. A week in a villa in St Barts was just what Colette needed to get over this unspeakable period in her life.
And
she’d be travelling
first-class!

Recovery

‘You’re a better woman than I am, Hilary, because I wouldn’t be going to that man’s funeral,’ Jonathan exclaimed.

‘If it wasn’t for Mam I’m not sure if I’d go. I couldn’t give a hoot about Frank O’Mahony to be honest. But Mam and Jacqueline were, and I use the term
lightly, “friends” a long time ago, and Jacqueline did come to Dad’s funeral. I’d say it was that meltdown that Colette had last year that brought on the stroke that
finished Frank off eventually,’ Hilary reflected.

‘And are you going to talk to Jezebel O’Mahony?’ he asked bitchily.

‘
Jonathan
!’ Hilary giggled.

‘Well are you?’

‘I suppose I’ll have to offer my condolences. We’re only going to the Mass, not the graveyard. We’ll be on our way to Leanne’s wedding when old Frank is being
lowered into his loamy grave. A funeral and a wedding in one day! From one extreme to the other.’

‘Is Sophie looking forward to being a bridesmaid? Can’t believe Leanne is getting married. It only seems like yesterday that they were giddy teenagers.’ Jonathan poured boiling
water into the teapot and shook come chocolate biscuits onto a plate. They were in Hilary’s office reviewing their diaries.

‘She’s a bit nervous, but the bridesmaid dress is fabulous on her. It made me cry when I saw her. She’ll be next, I’d say.’

‘Well I don’t know about that,’ grinned Jonathan, rooting in the mini fridge for a carton of milk.

‘
Really
? What are you saying?’ Hilary demanded, pushing her diary away. Compared to the hectic days of the boom, there were a lot of gaps in it.

‘Well you know Murray’s been commissioned to do the photography for a book on Irish heritage and learning in Europe?’ He cocked an eye at her.

‘Yeah, I heard you talking about it.’

‘I’m going to travel with him for a couple of months in the autumn and see where it goes from there.’ Jonathan’s face split in a melon-sliced grin.

‘Oh bliss! That sounds fantastic. Jonathan, I’m delighted it’s all going so well for you. Murray is all I’d want for you and more. But I’ll miss you!’ She
made a face.

‘You and Niall can fly out and join us on weekend breaks every so often,’ he suggested, pouring them two mugs of tea.

Hilary laughed. ‘Those days are gone. Remember when money was no object? Remember how I booked flights for myself and the girls to fly to London that time, and it cost hundreds, and it
didn’t cost me a thought? Can’t do that any more, I’m afraid. But maybe we might manage
one
weekend!’

‘We’d have great fun. How about when he’s photographing the Irish college in Rome?’ Jonathan urged.

‘I’m getting excited,’ Hilary grinned.

‘Oh and by the way . . .
if
Murray and I go down the aisle, you’re my bridesmaid!’

‘I should think so, buster. I should very much think so,’ Hilary declared. ‘I’d better go on a diet!’

‘I think you’re mad to go to that funeral. I wouldn’t give that two-faced bitch the satisfaction,’ Niall growled when Hilary told him she was
accompanying her mother to Frank O’Mahony’s funeral. ‘Let Dee bring your mother.’

‘Mam and Dee don’t know what happened with Colette, so they’d be wondering why I didn’t go, and besides, my mother is an inspiration to me. Jacqueline dropped her like a
hot potato when she hit the big time and began mixing with the la-di-das and she didn’t need Colette minded any more, but when Mam heard Frank was dead, do you know what she said?’

‘What?’ Niall asked.

‘She said, “Poor Jacqueline, my heart goes out to her. I know what it feels like to lose a husband and she might need a shoulder to cry on.”’

‘Your mother’s a saint,’ Niall retorted. ‘Like mother, like daughter!’

‘Far from it, and you and I know that. But she’s a very good, decent person and the least I can do is support her.’

‘You’re a very good and decent person too, and a big softie with it. Just don’t let that Colette one take advantage of that softness again,’ he warned.

‘Don’t worry, I won’t,’ she assured him. ‘Colette has wiped her shoes on me for the last time.’

‘Well that’s good to know. Give her my regards, ha ha!’ He grinned at her. ‘Tell her I’m
aching
for her.’

‘Smarty!’ She flicked him with the tea towel before going off to make an appointment to have her hair and make-up done, rather pleased that she’d be looking her best the next
time she saw Colette.

Des looked older, thinner, Colette noted, as he, Jazzy and Jackson emerged though the opaque doors of arrivals at Dublin Airport. She was so glad her daughter’s boyfriend
had accompanied Jazzy. Things were serious between them and Colette was most relieved that her precious child seemed to be having more luck with men than she’d ever had.

‘Sorry about your father, Colette.’ Des leaned over to give her an awkward peck on the cheek.

‘Thanks,’ she said coolly before turning to gather her daughter into an embrace, and then kiss Jackson.

‘My condolences, Mrs Williams,’ the young man said politely.

‘Please, Jackson, it’s
Colette
. I’m too young to be Mrs anybody,’ she smiled at him.

‘It was kind of you to meet us, we could have taken a cab,’ Des said, falling into step beside her as they walked through Arrivals towards the exit.

‘Mum insisted. And she wants you to stay in the house. It’s entirely up to you, Des. You can have Jazzy’s old room, and they can have the guest room, but if you want to stay in
a hotel that’s equally fine. Your call.’

‘If it’s OK, I’ll stay with you. It would be nice for Jazzy to have some family time.’

‘Whatever that is,’ Colette said sarcastically.

‘Please don’t let’s fight. Not at this time,’ Des said quietly, to her surprise. His difficulties had certainly diminished his brashness somewhat.

‘OK,’ she agreed, too weary after the stress of the past few days to argue.

‘If you want to, we can finalize the divorce too. I took the opportunity to have Dwayne Fuller make out a spreadsheet of our . . . er . . . remaining assets.’

‘You mean we have some?’ she said drily.

‘A few, actually. It’s not as bad as we thought, and we will get something back, in time, from the Madoff fiasco,’ Des informed her crisply. ‘Colette, will you tell me one
thing?’

‘What’s that?’ She glanced at him cagily.

‘How did you get the gold out?’

Colette laughed. ‘It wasn’t difficult. I packed it in the drawer of the desk and had it shipped.’

‘Good God! That was risky, in many ways,’ he exclaimed, appalled.

‘I know. I was peppering for three long months,’ she admitted. ‘But it wasn’t spotted going through Customs, and it wasn’t stolen, it got through and arrived
intact!’

‘You’re something else, you know! I was a fool to mess you around,’ Des said admiringly.

‘Indeed you were,’ Colette agreed matter-of-factly, slowing down to let their daughter and Jackson, who was pushing their luggage, catch up with them.

Colette kept her eyes on her father’s coffin reposing at the foot of the altar, while walking up the aisle, her mother positioned between her and Des. All through the
course of the previous evening’s removal ceremony, when the multitudes from the Law Courts, their friends and neighbours and many more came to offer their condolences, Colette had been on
tenterhooks wondering would Hilary make an appearance. Sally and Jacqueline had been friends once. She would have expected Sally, at least, to be there. Because Sally was elderly, she was sure
Hilary would have accompanied her. She couldn’t believe that they had been no-shows.

Perhaps they’d attend the funeral Mass, she thought agitatedly. She’d be exceedingly gracious if they came and
insist
that they come to the meal in the Royal Marine
afterwards. Hilary
would
come. Colette was sure of it. After all it was Frank’s funeral. Who could keep up bad feeling at a funeral? Colette could use the opportunity to explain that
the incident that had sundered their friendship had been due to Colette’s being on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

And it was true, she
had
fallen to pieces in the following months, she acknowledged, edging into the pew after her mother. She had become a recluse when she’d returned to London,
and had cancelled her holiday in St Barts. She couldn’t face going alone and having to think about the nightmare her life had become. She was plagued by flashbacks of the afternoon she had
discovered her father’s betrayal of her mother. And, although Colette wouldn’t admit it to a living soul, she was mortally ashamed of how low she’d sunk, and how disloyal
she’d been to Hilary, and equally horrified at her behaviour with Niall. She was no better than her father, she’d tormented herself.

The trip in February to spend time with Jazzy in New York had tipped her over the edge. She hadn’t met up with Des, but when Jazzy told her he was now living near North Cove in Battery
Park, she’d been gutted. ‘Is he with that woman?’ she’d asked, subdued.

‘No, that ended when he had the heart attack. He’s just had a complete lifestyle change,’ Jazzy assured her. ‘He jogs on the seafront, walks to work, relaxes at the
Harbor, that kind of stuff. I like his new apartment. Are you sure you don’t want to come and visit him?’ she’d asked hopefully.

‘No!’ Colette said emphatically. She couldn’t wait to fly out of JFK. Revisiting New York had left her feeling shaky and deeply depressed. When she got back to London
she’d stayed in bed for a week drinking, and tempted to take an overdose of pills to put her out of her misery. A dose of the flu meant a visit to her old doctor and out of the blue
she’d found herself howling in his office when he’d told her she looked very peaky and under the weather. She’d ended up on antidepressants and with a letter to see a therapist,
which she’d stuffed in her dressing-table drawer.

It had taken the guts of a year before she’d felt more like herself. Des wasn’t the only one who’d had the stuffing knocked out of him, she’d told him during one of their
fraught phone calls. Thoughts of Hilary were instantly dismissed. She simply did not allow herself to think of the other woman and she had managed to blank out the mortifying episode that had
ruined their friendship.

Gradually she had resumed working in Dickon and Austen’s Knightsbridge gallery and her social life had picked up again, and while she would never reach the dizzy heights she had in New
York, she had begun to enjoy her life in London. Her father’s death was an inconvenience she could have done without. Ireland was the last place she wanted to go to. She dreaded being
reminded of the past.

Colette was surrounded by mourners paying their respects, outside the church after the funeral Mass, when out of the corner of her eye she saw Sally embrace Jacqueline. The two elderly ladies
clung to each other as Sally murmured words of comfort in Jacqueline’s ear, and then Hilary was there, behind her mother, looking very smart in a tailored black suit. Her make-up was subtle
but classy, her hair was beautifully cut
and
she’d dropped weight.

So she’d come, Colette thought triumphantly, just as she knew Hilary would. She turned away to speak to an elderly colleague of her father’s, and was shaking hands with a second
cousin when Hilary appeared at the edge of the group. Colette pretended not to see her until her former friend was almost beside her.

‘Hilary!’ she said with feigned surprise. ‘I didn’t expect to see you.’

‘I brought Mam. She was anxious to offer her condolences to your mother,’ Hilary said calmly. ‘I wouldn’t go from here without offering you mine.’

‘That was kind. You
will
come to the meal afterwards so they can have time to chat,’ Colette said casually.

‘I’m sorry, we can’t go on to the grave. We’re going to a wedding this afternoon, so we need to go home and change.’

‘Anyone I know?’ Colette raised an eyebrow.

‘Leanne, Sophie’s friend. Jazzy knows her. They keep in touch on Skype. I must have a word with Jazzy – I saw her earlier,’ Hilary said as politely as though she were
talking to a stranger.

‘I see. And how are you?’ Colette asked, trying not to betray her disappointment that Sally and Hilary were not coming to the meal and there would be no chance to explain things.

‘I’m fine, thanks. I
am
sorry for your loss,’ Hilary said quietly.

‘Thanks.’ Colette knew Hilary meant what she said and she felt comforted by it. ‘As you now know, Dad and I had a rocky relationship. I’m very conflicted about him. That
day we had our . . . er . . . falling out, I said things I didn’t mean. I’ve regretted it, you know. I just lost the plot. I had a nervous breakdown subsequently – everything got
too much for me. The marriage break-up, our falling out,’ she said, the words tumbling out. ‘I’m really,
really
sorry for what happened. I wasn’t myself,’ she
said lamely.

‘That’s not surprising. I’m sure it was very difficult for you, getting your head round seeing something like that as a child. I was sorry to hear how troubled you’d been
throughout your life. You never said anything.’ Hilary’s gaze and tone was sympathetic.

‘I couldn’t. I buried it deep.’ Colette’s lip trembled at her former friend’s compassionate response.

‘That was hard for you.’

‘Oh Hilary, maybe we could meet for coffee before I go back to London. I really need to talk about it,’ Colette exclaimed, all affectation aside. Hilary knew her better than anyone.
Who else could she tell all her woes to without losing face? ‘Why don’t I ring you in a few days’ time, and we’ll arrange to meet before I go back?’ she suggested
eagerly.