A Time for Friends

by Patricia Scanlan

  ‘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.

  Hilary looked at her searchingly. ‘I don’t think so, Colette,’ she said slowly. ‘What’s the point? We’re not really friends. We’re just a habit, and a bad one at that. I could never trust you again. I’ve nothing to say to you actually. If it wasn’t for Mam I wouldn’t be here,’ she added bluntly. ‘I’m glad Jazzy and Sophie became friends and keep in touch. I hope their friendship works better than ours has. A long time ago, after we had the falling out when you moved to America, I remember saying to Niall that either you and I would drift apart, or you would do something that there was no turning back from. I think trying to seduce my husband would come into that category. Some things there’s no getting over and for me, Colette, believe it or not, that’s one of them.’ She gave a shrug. ‘I wish you well, always. Don’t doubt that. But coffee? A chat? No, I think not. I would suggest that you do talk to a counsellor or psychotherapist to resolve all your issues, though, if you haven’t already done so. I think it would be very good for you. But, if it’s all the same to you, let’s you and I call it a day. Take care of yourself.’ Hilary gave Colette’s gloved hand a squeeze and walked away, leaving the other woman standing with her mouth open, stunned.

  Was that it? After all these years? Hilary had finally had enough. ‘To have a friend you have to be a friend,’ she’d once said to Colette during a row, implying that Colette wasn’t a good friend to her. She had been a good friend, she assured herself, as tears filled her eyes and she was left standing alone. Apart from that episode with Niall when she wasn’t herself, she’d been as good a friend as she knew how. A sob escaped her and then another and she fished in her bag for a tissue.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Des appeared at her side.

  ‘No . . . No, I’m not, Des. I want to get out of here,’ Colette wept.

  ‘All right, let’s tell Jacqueline to wrap it up and move on to the graveyard.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she managed weakly, trying to compose herself, relieved to have someone be concerned about her, even if it was her lying, cheating husband.

  Des took her hand and led her towards the hearse. Her fingers curled around his. ‘Chin up, Lettie,’ he murmured encouragingly, using a pet name he used to call her, as Jazzy broke away from some of her Irish cousins and walked towards them.

  ‘Are you all right, Mom? You look a bit pale,’ she said, secretly delighted to see her parents holding hands. She slid her own hand into her mother’s free one.

  Colette lifted her shoulders and smiled at her. ‘I’ll be fine, sweetie,’ she said, as the three of them walked hand in hand towards her mother, like a real family again, while Hilary, her arm tucked into Sally’s, walked in the opposite direction, out through the church gates, disappearing from view.

  EPILOGUE

  ‘Let’s get this wedding started,’ Hilary declared giddily, settling the small red rose in Jonathan’s lapel.

  ‘It’s a civil service,’ corrected her friend.

  ‘If I’m a bridesmaid, it’s a wedding,’ Hilary said firmly. ‘And you will be the most perfect blushing groom.’

  ‘Oh Hil, I never thought there was someone out there for me. I’m so excited,’ Jonathan bubbled. ‘I’m so happy I could burst.’

  ‘I’m so happy for you I could burst too,’ Hilary declared, raising her champagne glass to him and taking a last sip before they joined Nancy and his sisters to enter the function room where the service was taking place. Nancy was so proud to be walking her son up the aisle. And ecstatically happy that her prayers had finally been answered.

  Murray had proposed on Valentine’s Day, fourteen months after Father McDaid had introduced them, and they were holding their ceremony on Midsummer’s Day in a country house hotel, just outside Rosslara. Nancy was giving Jonathan away and Hilary was his bridesmaid. Father Derek was going to perform a blessing after the legalities were complete and Murray and Jonathan couldn’t be happier.

  The excitement of the couple was palpable as they stood side by side in their morning suits, and heard the Registrar finally say, ‘Jonathan, Murray, you are now joined together in civil partnership.’ Tears slid down Hilary’s cheeks as she watched the loving couple embrace. At last, her best friend had what he had always wished for. Someone he loved, and someone who loved him.

  Ten minutes later, when the Registrar had left, because he was not allowed to stay for the spiritual ceremony, Father McDaid took his place at the lectern. An anticipatory hush descended on the guests.

  ‘Dearly beloved,’ the elderly priest said, smiling. ‘As Jesus said, Where two or three are gathered in my name I am with them. It is my privilege to bestow a blessing on Murray and Jonathan – particularly as it was I who introduced them,’ he added, to much laughter. ‘In this room today are two people who love each other. You must love one another as you love me, our dear Lord taught. How wonderful for all of us to share in Jonathan and Murray’s love. For love is all that matters and love is why we are here. I bless this union, gifted to Jonathan and Murray by God, and pray that the love that is here today will multiply and fill the world with love and grace. Amen.’

  ‘This is the weepiest wedding I was ever at,’ Niall murmured to Hilary as tears and cheers followed Father McDaid as he resumed his seat.

  ‘Isn’t that marvellous, to know that you’ve been instrumental in making two wonderful people very, very happy. And not only the boys, but myself included, and all my family. We’re in your debt, Father,’ Nancy declared, overwhelmed with gratitude.

  ‘And I’m in Jonathan’s. He’s a wonderful man. He introduced me to Hannah over there. He pointed to his therapist, who was laughing heartily at something Orla, Jonathan’s old friend from his bedsit days, was saying to her. ‘She’s an angel in disguise,’ he said enthusiastically. ‘All my years as a priest and I’d been blindsided by theological arguments and this canon law or that one, and you know it’s all nonsense,’ he exclaimed.

  ‘Nonsense,’ agreed Nancy. ‘You know that song that used to be popular once. What was it now? Oh yes, the Beatles. “Love Is All You Need” or was it “All You Need Is Love”? I can’t quite remember.’

  ‘Whatever it was, it was absolutely spot on. Love is all you need. And if there isn’t love in this room I don’t know where it is,’ the priest chuckled, taking a rather large sip of his brandy. The party was in full swing and he
was enjoying himself immensely. His words of blessing had been heartfelt, as he’d called on the Creator to bless the two men before him joined in civil partnership. There had been many tears when he had spoken those words, but they were tears of happiness, and the elderly priest had felt his own heart lift in joy to be part of such a blessed, happy occasion.

  ‘Look at Mum and Father D. They’re getting on like a house on fire. I knew they’d click,’ Jonathan said to Hilary as they sat together after the toasts.

  ‘It’s a great day. I’ve never been to such a joyful wedding,’ she assured him.

  ‘Some day, hopefully, we will be able to marry properly in Ireland, and please God the referendum will be passed, but today will keep us going until then,’ Jonathan said happily.

  ‘You mean I’m going to get another chance to be your bridesmaid?’ Hilary teased.

  ‘You bet your ass, Hammond. There comes a time when a gal’s got to do what a gal’s got to do! Today was just a trial run. And a brilliant one at that.’

  ‘I’ll be there, never you fear,’ she assured him.

  ‘I know you will,’ said Jonathan confidently. ‘Of that, I have no fear. You know what they say, “People come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime.” We’re in it for the long haul, Hil. I love Murray, but you’re my best friend.’

  ‘And you’re mine,’ Hilary responded warmly, hugging him. ‘And how lucky are we?’

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ‘A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity’

  Proverbs 17:17

  I never write a book alone and so, as always, it is with deep gratitude I thank ‘my gang’ for guiding this latest book. Jesus, Our Lady, Mother Meera, St Joseph, St Michael, St Anthony, White Eagle, all my Angels, Saints and Guides and my Beloved Mother who has brought me to Simon & Schuster where the great adventure continues.

  Huge thanks to: My dear and wonderful dad whose courage and humour inspire me.

  To my sister Mary and all my family. To my nieces, who keep me up to date with fashion, make-up, trends, and text speak!