A Time for Friends (43 page)

She couldn’t bring herself to say it to Jacqueline. She didn’t want a lecture on her parenting skills or lack of them. Hilary had been kind earlier when they’d gone to pick
Jazzy up. But then it was easy for her to be kind. Her kids were Little Misses Goody Two Shoes compared to Jazzy, and always had been. It had been utterly humiliating when they were children and
Jazzy would throw a strop, and screech and stamp her foot in front of Millie and Sophie. She was still doing it, albeit in a different manner. Still looking for attention and getting it, still
showing Colette up in front of the Hammonds.

Was she mad to have invited them to the States? They really had nothing in common any more; that had been more than evident this evening. Niall had not been in awe when she’d told him
about hiring the jet. He’d made a derisory joke at their expense. He was still handsome, the touch of grey at his temples doing nothing to take away from his rugged good looks. And still as
laid-back and cool as ever, and not at all impressed by their success. Yes, Niall was still a dish, but Hilary had let herself go somewhat. She was carrying extra weight and the lines around her
eyes and lips had deepened. Her nails needed a good manicure, and there were grey hairs in her luxuriant chestnut locks, which needed styling. Colette could give her twenty years in looks, she
thought smugly. If the Hammonds came at holiday-time, she’d be able to swan around in her bikini on the beach. Hilary would surely have to wear a one-piece. Niall would still look good
bare-chested, she imagined. And in spite of himself he’d have to be impressed with their Upper East Side apartment and the house on the island. She would very much enjoy being the hostess
with the mostest, should they come to visit. There had been an uncharacteristic edge between her host and hostess tonight. Niall and Hilary had sniped at each other about Jonathan, much to her
surprise. And Niall had given her the eye once or twice. Colette was sure of it.
Interesting!
she thought, remembering the glint in his eye when he’d smiled at her.

Colette wrinkled her pert little nose when Des let off a rasper in his sleep. Nothing dishy about her husband right now, she thought grumpily, turning on her side, wishing she could go and sleep
in her own luxuriously appointed guest room, which she often did when she was at home in Manhattan. Why was it that she always looked forward to coming back to Ireland, but when she actually got
here, it was never as good as anticipated and often, indeed, she couldn’t wait to be gone.

‘You should give Jazzy a call and see if she’s OK,’ Hilary suggested over breakfast the following morning.

‘What? Why should I ring her? She should ring
me
and apologize,’ Sophie exclaimed indignantly. Leanne prudently said nothing and demolished another mouthful of crispy bacon
topped with fried potato and dipped in egg yolk.

‘I know that. You know that. But still I’m sure she’s embarrassed and after all she
is
in a strange country and doesn’t know many people here. It would be a
kindness,’ Hilary said lightly.

‘Yeah well I don’t feel kind,’ Sophie retorted, spearing a piece of sausage.

‘It’s up to you, of course.’ Hilary smiled, offering her daughter a slice of buttered toast.

‘Uuhhh,’ muttered Sophie, wishing her mother wouldn’t do the emotional blackmail stuff on her.

‘I suppose I’d better ring the little skanger,’ Sophie moaned to Leanne later that morning as they warmed up for a basketball match against a rival school’s team. She
dribbled the ball along the court at a run, segued into a lay up and felt a ripple of satisfaction as the orange ball sliced through the net cleanly, giving a satisfying thud as it bounced on the
wooden floor.

‘We’ll do it when we’re finished here.’ Leanne shrugged. ‘It’s no big deal and it will get your mother off your back. You only need to say hello and
goodbye.’

‘OK,’ Sophie agreed, catching a rebound from the board from a shot missed by another girl. She aimed and scored again. If she could do the same when they were playing the match
she’d be more than happy.

‘That’s unfortunate, darling, that you are off colour. You were fine when you were going out last evening.’ Jacqueline gazed at her granddaughter, noting her
pallor and the way she winced every so often as if the light hurt her eyes. ‘What would you like for lunch, seeing as you had no breakfast? We’ve had ours but there are cold cuts and
salad, or prawns and crab—’

‘Umm . . . just coffee and toast, Gran, please,’ Jasmine interjected hastily, afraid if she heard any more about food her stomach would erupt again. She felt truly horrendous, but at
least the hellacious headache she’d woken up with had eased. Her parents had gone apeshit this morning before they had gone out and demanded her credit card back and told her that she was,
like, so grounded. It was a real bummer.

‘Well the dead arose and appeared to many. You’re up at last,’ Frank exclaimed jovially, strolling into the breakfast room with his
Irish Times
under his arm.
‘As soon as you’ve had something to eat I’m going to take you into the Law Library with me. If you decide to study law, and I really hope you do, you’ll find no better place
of learning than the King’s Inns Law Library. It will rival the best of anything you have in the US, I can tell you,’ he declared proudly. Jasmine’s heart sank. Her grandfather
really wanted her to be a lawyer and was always going on about the King’s Inns. The last place she wanted to go to today was a stuffy old library.

‘Em . . . the thing is—’ Her cell phone rang and she slid it out of her jeans pocket and flipped it open. ‘Excuse me a sec, Granddad,’ she said politely, and opened
the French door and sauntered into the sun-drenched garden. She had thought it might be her mum but the number that flashed up on her screen was an Irish number and she saw Sophie’s name. She
cringed. She had made such a jackass of herself last night, much of which she couldn’t remember. The last person she wanted to talk to was Sophie.

‘Hello,’ she said cautiously, expecting a barrage of abuse.

‘Hi, Jazzy, how are you feeling?’ Sophie asked politely.

‘Umm, not so good,’ she confessed.

‘OK . . . Well I just rang to see if you were OK,’ Sophie said awkwardly and Jasmine guessed her mother had pressurized her to make the call.

‘Look, sorry if I . . . er . . . messed up your night.’

‘No probs, enjoy the rest of your holiday.’

‘Listen . . . em . . . could I hang out with you for an hour or two? Could I take you for a pizza or McDonald’s or latte or something to make up for last night?’ Jasmine saw a
potential escape from the trip to the dreaded Law Library.

‘It’s fine, honestly, no worries,’ Sophie said hastily.

‘
Pleeease
, Soph! My granddad wants to bring me to the Law Library and I have the hangover from hell and I can’t tell him that,’ Jasmine blurted.

‘Oh! Well, Leanne and I have sort of made plans,’ Sophie said crossly.

‘Please, Sophie, cut me a break here,’ Jasmine pleaded. ‘I swear to God, it’s just for an hour then you can split and I can do my own thing.’

‘Hold on, I need to check it out with Leanne.’ Jasmine could hear a muffled whispered conversation, and Leanne saying, ‘Do we have to?’

Jasmine felt like telling them to get lost, but if she could say she was meeting them, even for a short while, it would get her out of spending the afternoon with her granddad and his beloved
legal tomes.

‘OK, then. Meet us in an hour at the DART station in Clontarf and we’ll go to Barcode for pizza. Text me when you’re on the train in Sutton and we’ll get on the same one
in Killester,’ Sophie said crisply. ‘See ya!’

Jasmine slipped her phone into her pocket and walked back into the breakfast room. Her grandmother had just placed a basket of toast on the table, and a mug of steaming coffee. Coffee, just what
she needed. ‘Thanks, Gran,’ she said gratefully, inhaling the rich aroma.

‘Eh . . . Granddad,’ she said to her grandfather who was immersed in his crossword. ‘That was Sophie on the phone and we had sort of made a loose arrangement to meet up and she
was just ringing to confirm,’ she fibbed.

‘Oh!’ He looked disappointed. ‘Ah well, another time, perhaps,’ he sighed, lowering his head to his paper.

‘That’s nice that you’re meeting Sophie. Did you have a good time last night?’ Jacqueline asked, sitting down beside her at the table.

‘Yep, it was cool,’ Jasmine lied. ‘Gran, can you give me a lift to the DART station in a while? I don’t think Mom and Dad will be back in time.’ She nibbled on the
toast and found it surprisingly tasty.

‘Of course, dear.’ Jacqueline smiled fondly and Jasmine leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. ‘You are so kind to me, Gran. When I get back we could go for a walk on the
beach with Nomos.’

‘Lovely, Nomos will enjoy that.’ Her grandmother’s eyes lit up. Nomos, hearing his name mentioned, uncurled himself from the sunspot on the floorboards by the windows and
padded over to them. Privately Jasmine thought Nomos was a silly sort of name for a dog, and a big golden Labrador at that, but her grandfather had called him after the god of law in Greek
mythology. Jasmine had heard her dad say once to her mom, ‘Frank is so pretentious, he thinks he impresses people calling his dog that ridiculous name.’

‘You are just as bad as he is sometimes,’ her mom had retorted, annoyed that Des should criticize her father.

‘Hi, Nomos, walkies later,’ she said, surreptitiously feeding him a piece of toast, loving how he lapped her fingers with his tongue, his tail wagging like crazy. She would adore to
have a dog but her parents wouldn’t allow it. ‘A city apartment is no place for a dog,’ her father said firmly and no amount of begging or pleading could change that. Being with
Nomos was what she loved most about coming to visit her grandparents. Nomus loved her like no one else did. There was no need to demand love or attention from him. It was willingly given and
returned in equal measure.

‘I’d better go and put on my make-up and put my hair up.’ She swallowed the last of her toast, gulped her coffee and smiled at her grandmother.

‘Breakfast dishes in the dishwasher, dear,’ Jacqueline said firmly.

‘Yes, Gran,’ she said meekly, doing as she was bid.

Three quarters of an hour later she sent a text to Sophie. On the subway. C u in a while
.
A woman with a toddler squirming in her arms, sitting opposite, smiled at her. ‘Lovely
day, isn’t it? This one’s a handful – she wants to be walking,’ she said, jigging the little girl on her knee.

It astonished Jasmine how complete strangers in Ireland would strike up conversations, mostly about the weather, it seemed. She had never known people to be so obsessed with weather and
weather-related matters. At home, people didn’t make eye contact and kept to themselves on public transport.

Some Spanish students chattered away gaily in the seats on the other side of her aisle. Vociferous and expressive and full of self-assurance, they seemed so vibrant and cool, she thought
enviously. She would love to be that self-possessed. Although she gave the appearance of confidence she wasn’t really a confident girl. Deep down she was unsure of her place in life and the
world. Unsure of her looks, her academic capability, her ability to attract boys. She had been really nervous going out with Leanne and Sophie last night and that was why she had drunk the vodka so
quickly. Leanne and Sophie seemed so sure of themselves. And they were such good friends. She envied them. She had friends of course, but none that she could truly be herself with. Her set was
riven with jealousy, competitiveness and spiteful backbiting. Just the way their mothers behaved, she supposed, Jasmine thought glumly as the suburbs flashed by interspersed with verdant green
hedgerows and a view of the sea sparkling in the sun before it disappeared. The little girl was on the floor now, between the woman and Jasmine. The train gave a slight lurch and the toddler
grabbed Jasmine’s knees and flashed her a gummy smile. She just had two front baby teeth and her eyes were the bluest Jasmine had ever seen. Her heart melted and she smiled broadly as she
reached out to steady the child. ‘Say ta ta,’ said the woman.

‘Ta ta,’ the little girl said obediently, beaming at Jasmine.

‘She’s lovely,’ Jasmine astonished herself by saying, enjoying the feel of the pudgy little hands placed so trustingly on her knees.

‘It’s time for us to get off now. Say day, day,’ the woman said, standing up and taking the little girl’s hand.

‘Day, day,’ said the infant, blowing a kiss as her mother led her to the door.

‘Day day,’ Jasmine echoed, feeling a bit silly. This was so not her. If any of her friends back home saw her they would think she had lost it big time, speaking baby talk to
strangers on a train. She watched the mother and daughter walk along the platform and wondered would she ever have children of her own. Most of her friends, like her, had been raised by nannies and
au pairs, and then sent to boarding school. Sophie was so lucky to live at home and have a sister for company
and
her own space upstairs to entertain her friends. Hilary was not a strict
mother that Jasmine had noticed. The only thing was the Hammonds were not at all wealthy, not like her parents were anyway. She would be getting a car when she was sixteen – her next
birthday. She would be travelling to Europe; she would be skiing in Aspen. She had a better life, she assured herself as she heard the announcement that Killester was the next station.

She saw Sophie and Leanne on the platform as the train drew to a halt. She wondered should she wave to attract their attention, but they had stepped into a carriage further along so she sat back
in her seat and glanced in her bag just to make sure she had her wallet with the crisp fifty-euro note her grandmother had given her. She had another forty euros; surely pizza wouldn’t cost
that much for three in this Barcode restaurant. She felt bereft without her credit card. As if her security had been taken away.