The train crossed a bridge and the vista of Dublin Bay opened out before her on her left, the square tower of a church on her right, before they crossed over a main road. She saw a grey building with a car park and a sign for Barcode and was relieved it wasn’t too far to walk. She could spend half an hour with the girls and then go and have a stroll around before getting the train back to Sutton, she decided as they trundled into the station. Dublin was a picturesque city, she acknowledged, looking at the small flotilla of boats sailing in Dublin Bay. She especially loved that you could see the mountains in the distance. In New York all you could see was buildings.
She pressed the red button to open the carriage door and took a deep breath. She had made a fool of herself last night. These two girls didn’t particularly want to be with her. This would not be easy. They were walking down the platform towards her, deep in conversation. Jasmine took a long breath and hung her thumbs in her jeans pockets.
‘Hi, guys,’ she said with pretended airiness.
‘Oh . . . hi, Jazzy,’ Sophie said politely. Leanne merely nodded sullenly. Jasmine’s heart sank.
‘I guess that’s Barcode where we’re going.’ She jerked her thumb to the left.
‘Yep,’ Sophie said succinctly.
‘It looks cool,’ she said flatly. Perhaps she would have been better off going to the Law Library with her granddad. At least he would have talked to her.
‘It is quite cool actually. It’s got a brilliant disco,’ Sophie volunteered as they clattered down the steps to the exit barrier.
‘Oh . . . really? Why didn’t you go there last night then?’ Jasmine asked as they fell into step and walked out into the sunshine and sea air that ruffled her hair and made her breathe deeply, enjoying the salty tang that reminded her of Nantucket.
‘Not allowed. Mam says I’m too young. Millie goes. It’s deadly; people come from all over the city to go to it. I can’t wait until I’m allowed.’ Sophie shrugged. ‘But the bouncers are quite strict about being drunk,’ she added pointedly.
Jasmine was mortified. Bitch, she thought. There was no need for that.
‘Oh well, they won’t have to worry about you then,’ she drawled sarcastically. ‘Look, I guess you and Leanne don’t particularly want to be here. I thought I’d try and make amends for last night but I’m not going to spend the next hour trying to make polite conversation with you guys. Let’s split now if you like.’ She wasn’t going to prostrate herself at their feet for another minute. She could be as rude and offhand as they were.
‘What about our pizza? I’m starving,’ grumbled Leanne. ‘We played a basketball match this morning already and we delayed our lunch to meet up, and now you’re going to brush us off just like that?’ Her voice rose in an indignant squeak. ‘We can sit at separate tables and—’
‘Stop, Leanne,’ Sophie remonstrated. ‘Look, we were mad about last night and that’s a fact but let’s forget it and go and share a pizza like we said.’
‘Yeah well, it’s not easy for me, and I have apologized,’ Jasmine said sulkily.
‘OK, apology accepted. Come on, let’s go and eat,’ Sophie grinned. ‘And you can tell us if Irish pizzas are as good as Yankee ones.’
Jasmine felt some of the tension evaporate. Sophie was a kind girl. If the tables were turned and they were in New York she might not have been so forgiving, she conceded.
‘Er . . . thanks for meeting up with me.’ She caught Sophie’s steady gaze.
‘Well we couldn’t let you spend an afternoon in a library. That would be enough to turn anyone to drink,’ the other girl teased and even Leanne laughed. An hour later, sitting on a banquette, in the trendy eatery, eating a margherita with fries and coleslaw on the side, and sipping a glass of the house red, they were thoroughly relaxed and enjoying themselves. The waitress clearly had thought they were old enough to be served drink, and certainly Jazzy, who had ordered the wine, looked much older than her years.
‘I can’t believe you have your own credit card,’ Sophie remarked enviously after Jasmine had told them her parents had taken her card back as a punishment.
‘Like, we all have, in my group, and I have a charge account in all the big stores. It’s no big deal,’ she said matter-of-factly.
‘That’s a gorgeous top,’ Leanne complimented.
‘It’s A&F. And the jeans are Calvin Klein.’ She stretched out her long legs encased in the designer jeans. ‘They are pretty awesome. I love them.’
‘We don’t have A&F here,’ Sophie shrugged. ‘If we ever come to visit you in New York I am going to spend all day, every day, shopping.’
‘And do you just ask your parents for money or do you have an allowance?’ Jasmine asked, unable to grasp what life would be like without charge accounts and a credit card.
‘I get twenty-five euros and I have to work in Mam’s showrooms some Saturdays and during the holidays,’ Sophie explained.
‘Jeez, you have to work!’ Jasmine was aghast.
‘I work in the local coffee shop on Sundays.’ Leanne took another sip of wine.
Jasmine’s phone rang. It was her mother. ‘I’m on my way back from town and I want to call into Diffusion, that boutique in Clontarf. Cross over and walk up to the shops beside the Garda station and meet me there and I’ll drive you back home. Gran said you were meeting Sophie for pizza.’
‘Aw Mom, can’t I get the DART to Sutton! I’m with the girls,’ she protested.
‘No! You’re supposed to be grounded and I’m not driving back over to Sutton DART station,’ Colette said crossly. ‘I’ll be there in twenty. Be there.’ The phone went dead.
‘That was Mom. She’s like so mad with me, she says I’ve to meet her in some boutique called Diffusion, in twenty,’ Jasmine said dolefully.
‘Aww, just when we were having fun and getting to know each other,’ Sophie exclaimed. ‘Look, why don’t I ring my mam and ask her to ring yours and ask can you stay over. I can give you PJs and we could get a few films in and watch them and we could sneak up another bottle of wine, but we won’t get smashed because my parents would go bananas if they caught me drinking. But Leanne and I do sometimes, when we’re having sleepovers, don’t we, Leanne?’
‘Yeah, sounds good to me,’ Leanne agreed. ‘Ring Mrs Hammond and see what she says.’
Sophie crossed her fingers when she had dialled Hilary’s number. ‘We’re having a really nice time catching up cos it’s been ages since we’ve seen each other. So please ask Jasmine’s mam to let her stay over,’ Sophie said earnestly.
‘Well I’ll do my best but I can’t interfere if they really want to ground Jasmine,’ Hilary said firmly. ‘I’ll ring you back.’
‘She’s ringing back.’ Sophie took a glug of her wine. ‘Fingers crossed.’ She waved her fingers in the air and giggled.
‘I bet she won’t agree,’ Jasmine said gloomily, completely forgetting she had promised to go for a walk on the beach with her grandmother and Nomos. ‘She is like so pissed at me for last night. I haven’t a hope.’
‘It’s nice that they’re bonding, Colette, and it must be boring for her not having any friends to hang out with in Ireland. I’m fine with it if you are,’ Hilary said matter-of-factly. It was no trouble having the teen to stay. Sophie’s room was big enough for the two girls to sleep over. They wouldn’t be in her way.
‘Well we took her credit card off her so that’s a fairly stiff punishment in itself, so OK then, if you’re sure.’
‘We were teens together; it’s nice that our children have a bond too,’ Hilary said cheerfully. ‘I’ll ring them back and let them know.’
‘You are a good friend, Hilary, thanks,’ Colette said gratefully.
‘I know I am,’ Hilary said sardonically but Colette knew she was smiling.
‘She said yes,’ Sophie grinned, conveying Hilary’s message. ‘Let’s go into town for a couple of hours, and then we can stop off at Xtra Vision and rent out a couple of films and stock up on goodies.’
&nb
sp; ‘Good plan,’ agreed Leanne, finishing off the coleslaw.
For a day that had started off so badly, this was turning out to be a truly awesome one, Jasmine thought happily. After their initial rocky start, and once the awkwardness of the previous night’s episode had been dealt with, she’d found it surprisingly easy to talk to the two Irish girls. In fact she felt very, very comfortable with them. It was amazing. Their lives were so different she felt no need to try and impress them in the slightest. It was very liberating. She actually felt Sophie and Leanne could become ‘real’ friends. Jasmine felt an uncharacteristic frisson of happiness. This was just so cool.
‘Oh . . . well that’s nice for her. It’s good that she’s making friends here. And especially nice that it’s Hilary’s daughter,’ Jacqueline remarked when Colette informed her that Jazzy would not be home that night. She tried to ignore the pangs of disappointment. She had been looking forward to the walk on the beach with her granddaughter.
‘I’m going to bring Nomos for a walk on the strand. Fancy coming?’ she asked Colette, who was sipping coffee and flicking through Hello!
‘Mum, I’m pooped, I think I’ll have a nap. We’re meeting the Osmonds for cocktails in a couple of hours, when Des has finished his round of golf. Do you mind if I skip it?’
‘Not at all,’ said Jacqueline brightly. ‘Nomos and I will entertain each other. Come on, boy, let’s go for a walk.’
It was an irony, thought Jacqueline twenty minutes later, as she flung a stick along a stretch of white sand for her dog to catch, that all those years ago when Colette wanted her company she was too busy to devote a lot of time to her daughter. And now when she had more time to spend with her family, the only one who had time to give her was Nomos. Jacqueline sighed as her dog yelped with pleasure, panting and wagging a sandy tail at her, proud to return the stick and have it thrown again for him to chase.
‘Good God, is that Frances Collins? Look at the size of her! She has an arse like the back of a bus. She’s really let herself go. She needs to get herself a good trainer or go to the gym.’ Colette stared with distaste at a woman walking through the foyer of Clontarf Castle with an elderly couple as she and Hilary sat having coffee at one of the small tables near reception.
‘Colette, don’t be so pass-remarkable. Frances is recovering from cancer, she’s on steroids, and she’s minding her elderly parents as well,’ Hilary remonstrated, irritated at how superficial and judgemental Colette could be. If you weren’t thin you were a failure in her eyes.
‘Oh! Well I didn’t know that.’
‘Yet you felt free to make a judgement about her weight nevertheless. You should stop it. You do it all the time and it’s not nice.’
‘Oh shut up,’ Colette snapped. ‘I suppose you never make bitchy comments when you’re with your little queen friend.’
‘There you go again,’ Hilary retorted.
‘Well he is a little queen with those scarves and pointy winkle-pickers,’ Colette said sulkily.
‘Jonathan is the best friend anyone could have. You’d be lucky to have a friend like him.’ Hilary decided against having the little ginger biscuit served with her coffee in case Colette made some remark about her weight.
‘I have you,’ Colette grinned, and Hilary laughed.
‘It’s good to see our girls becoming close.’ Colette sat back in her chair displaying her tanned legs to the best advantage.
‘They had a great time the other night. There was lots of giggling and laughing.’
‘That’s probably the bottle of wine they smuggled upstairs. Jazzy told me that Sophie is quite the little plonkie behind that innocent façade.’
What a bitch you are, Hilary thought in disgust. You could have kept that to yourself.
‘I did tell you that night we had to collect Jazzy when she was pissed that I have no doubts that Millie and Sophie drink behind my back. We did it, Colette. Why would our daughters be any different? It’s a rite of passage.’ But at least I’ve never had to collect my daughter from a disco because she was falling down drunk, she wanted to add, but she refrained. She wasn’t going to sink to Colette’s level of bitchiness.
She drained her coffee cup. ‘I have to go. I have to inspect a building and make sure everything’s being done as per the plans,’ she said.
‘Aw no, I thought we were going to have a good gossip. We never got a chance to the other night,’ Colette protested.
‘Sorry, I’m not on my hols like you are,’ Hilary said lightly, standing up.
‘But I won’t get to see you again,’ Colette pouted. ‘Do come out, we’d love to have you visit.’
Not in a million years, thought Hilary, picking up the bill. ‘I’ll get this,’ she said briskly. ‘Take care, Colette.’
‘OK, see you.’ Colette stood up and gave her an air kiss. ‘Keep in touch.’
‘Sure,’ Hilary threw over her shoulder as she walked to reception to pay their coffee bill. Was this the way a friendship ended? she wondered. Over coffee, with promises to keep in touch? For the first time ever she couldn’t give Colette any leeway or make excuses. She was just not a nice person and that was it. She couldn’t wait to let Hilary know that Sophie had smuggled a bottle of wine in for their sleep-over.
She’d have to deal with that later, she thought grimly. Or would she? Hilary and Colette and all their friends had drunk alcohol behind their parents’ backs at Sophie’s age. She just might subtly let her daughter know that she was keeping an eye on her.
When she got home, she went into the garage and rummaged through the bag of empties that would be going for recycling. Blossom Hill, there it was. She and Niall hadn’t drunk that. She took the bottle out and brought it in and placed it on the kitchen counter.
She was chopping onions for the spaghetti bolognese when Sophie bounced into the kitchen. ‘Hi, Mam, what’s for dinner? I’m starving!’
‘Your favourite,’ Hilary said affably. ‘Will you be having wine with it?’
She stared at the empty bottle on the counter.
Sophie blushed to her roots. ‘Oh!’ she exclaimed, mortified.
‘Just be careful, Sophie. That’s all I’m asking you. Drink can be a very dangerous thing. You saw what happened to Jazzy.’
‘Sorry, Mam,’ she said guiltily. ‘We were just having fun.’
‘I know. But you’re still very young so just be careful.’
‘I love you, Mam.’ Sophie flung her arms around her.
‘And I love you,’ Hilary said, hugging her daughter tightly. Maybe Colette had done them a favour in spite of herself, Hilary thought, relishing the closeness she had with Sophie and the loving affection behind her daughter’s embrace.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
‘Niall, were you talking to your mam today?’ Hilary asked, trying to keep the note of concern out of her voice.
‘Er . . . not yet, no,’ her husband admitted. ‘I was in meetings all morning. Why?’
‘She’s not answering her landline or her mobile,’ Hilary said, trying to quell the feeling of dread that was rising in her. ‘I’d better drive over and make sure she’s OK.’
‘You have the key, don’t you?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Any of the girls around?’
‘No, Sophie’s gone into town with her gang and Millie’s minding Gillian Nolan’s kids for an hour or two. I’d better go. I’ll ring you from Gran’s. Bye.’
‘Bye,’ he said. ‘Thanks, Hilary.’
Hilary dialled Margaret’s phone once more, almost holding her breath, hoping against hope to hear the familiar, if slightly breathless, tones of her mother-in-law with her usual cheery greeting. The phone continued to ring, unanswered. She would have been very surprised if Margaret had gone somewhere and forgotten her phone. She had been very wheezy the past month and had been on steroids again. She was in no fit state to be going anywhere.
Hilary grabbed her bag and keys and hurried out to the car. It was very unlike Margaret not to answer her phone.
Once or twice before, Hilary had phoned and Margaret had been in the toilet or out at the bin and she had phoned back, but there was no call back this morning, despite several attempts to contact her, and Hilary was worried. At that age and with her dodgy heart, it was inevitable that someday something would go wrong. The last year had been particularly hard for Margaret. She had become more chronically ill, less able to enjoy her life. It was one medical drama after another, Hilary acknowledged, reversing out of her drive. Difficult for her and Niall too. There was always that vague sense of dread, knowing that the day would come when Margaret would not recover. And even worse, thought Hilary with a sickening clenching of her stomach. What would she find when she got to her mother-in-law’s? No matter how much death was expected, it was still a life-changing shock for those left behind. ‘Let her be OK,’ Hilary prayed, almost dizzy with fear and apprehension.
Margaret could hear the phone ringing as if from some far-distant place. She knew it was Hilary. Hilary was the only one who rang her in the mornings. She closed her eyes again and felt herself drifting off. She was in such a peaceful place. Even her breathing was easier. If she had known it would be like this she would have stopped taking the tablets long ago. The fear of anticipation she’d endured these past few days was no more. In fact she’d never felt more empowered, Margaret realized, pleasantly surprised. She had made the choice. Not some anonymous medic, or her children. She gave a little sigh. That last time in A&E had been the turning point. How she had cried when the ambulance crew had placed her gently on the trolley, when she had collapsed at Sunday evening Mass in January. ‘I don’t want to go there, just bring me home,’ she’d pleaded. The men were kind to her. Very kind. She could not fault them. She had been in the care of Dublin Fire Brigade and Ambulance crews so many times in the past years. And always the kindness. But not even kindness could erase the dread of what awaited her beyond the doors of hell as Margaret had come to think of A&E.
A Time for Friends Page 34
