A Time for Friends

by Patricia Scanlan

  ‘Couldn’t your parents go over if I can’t make it?’ Hilary whispered.

  ‘You must be joking, take time away from their precious court cases?’ snorted Colette, who had been lashing into the champagne they’d been served non stop since they’d arrived at the hotel that afternoon.

  ‘Shush, you pair!’ ordered Niall.

  ‘Oohhh I love bossy men,’ giggled Colette. ‘Excuse me, I have to go and pee.’

  ‘I think I’ll slip out too and smoke a Robusto. Superb flavour. Woody but not too strong. Join me if you like,’ Des invited.

  ‘Thanks, I don’t care for cigars, but you go right ahead,’ Niall replied, clapping at a lame joke the bride’s father had attempted.

  ‘Oh you’re familiar with Cuban cigar brands?’ Des looked surprised.

  ‘Duty free is my business,’ Niall said coolly.

  ‘Oh of course, I must get you to get me a few cases at cost price!’ Des replied, ever the opportunist. ‘See you later.’

  ‘God, they’re so rude, I was glad they went out. She’s pissed,’ Hilary remarked when the speeches were over and people began to stretch their limbs and head for the bar.

  ‘I wouldn’t mind getting pissed myself. It might be the best of food and drink here but this is more like a corporate do than a wedding and two hours non stop of Des’s waffling is doing my head in.’ Niall glanced at his watch. It had gone nine. He’d been right about the food, it had been 7 p.m. before the meal was served, although there had been champagne and canapés for the guests when they’d arrived from the church.

  ‘We’ll stay until about eleven and slip away,’ Hilary soothed. Her husband was right, the wedding was big, brash and corporate and she had no desire to sit listening to more of Colette’s tipsy giggling. She need not have worried – the other couple never came back to their table. There were far too many High Society guests to mingle with and impress.

  Hilary and Niall stayed chatting for a while to the other guests at their table before drifting up to the bar to order more drinks, where they met some of Pete’s relatives who felt completely out of their depth at such an elite gathering. Niall and Hilary introduced themselves and they all ended up having a great bit of banter and a laugh.

  ‘We were dropped like hot potatoes,’ Niall murmured into her ear later as they smooched to ‘It Started With A Kiss’. They could see Colette and Des chatting animatedly to Barbara and Ronan Dolan, a high-profile couple who owned several hotels, including a very luxurious spa hotel in Sandy Lane. ‘I bet they’re angling for an invite to Barbados,’ Niall speculated, watching Des nodding in agreement with something Ronan said. The dance floor was heaving and the heat was overpowering. A girl weaving around boisterously to the music bumped into Hilary, her stiletto heel stabbing into her foot. She apologized carelessly before being swallowed up in the swaying crowd.

  ‘Will we head off? My feet are killing me. These shoes are torture,’ Hilary suggested, grimacing in pain.

  ‘I thought you’d never say it.’ Niall couldn’t hide his relief that the ordeal was coming to an end.

  ‘Right, let’s say goodnight to Rowena and Pete and make a move.’ The bride and groom were chatting to Pete’s mother and sister and Rowena hugged Hilary when she saw her. ‘Listen, Pete and I have decided that when we move into the house we’re going to dress up in our wedding clothes and have a party with all our real friends. Niall, will you bring the bodhrán and we’ll have a proper hooley with people we know and love?’

  ‘Sure,’ he said easily. ‘Great idea.’

  ‘This is mad, we don’t know half the people here.’ Rowena glanced around the room and made a face.

  ‘Oh listen; talking about the house, I have just the chap for you to help you decorate. You’ll love him,’ Hilary said. ‘I’ll get him to meet us in Illuminations when we’re planning the lighting system and see what he has to say. His name is Jonathan Harpur, he’s fun,’ Hilary said enthusiastically.

  ‘Brilliant, I’d love that. The parents-in-law want us to go with Coburn and Taylor, they decorated their house, but it’s like a luxury hotel and it’s not the look I want for our house. I want a home! I’d love to meet this Jonathan chap,’ Rowena agreed eagerly.

  ‘Right, I’ll sort it when you’re back from your honeymoon. We’re going to head off now and we just wanted to say thanks for a lovely day.’

  ‘No, thank you for coming, Hilary. I’m sorry we didn’t get to spend any time with you.’

  ‘Don’t worry your head about it, I’ll see you soon.’ They hugged again and then someone else arrived to claim the bride’s attention and Hilary and Niall made their way along the side of the dance floor.

  ‘I presume they aren’t going to collect Jasmine tonight?’ Niall nodded in Colette’s direction.

  ‘I wouldn’t imagine so, but I’d better tell them we’re going,’ Hilary said, pushing through the throng.

  ‘We’re slipping away, Colette.’ She tapped her friend on the shoulder.

  ‘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 Jas
mine, 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 sh
e 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.