A Time for Friends (51 page)

‘Hilary, I’m in trouble. I need to talk to you,’ she managed before bursting into tears.

‘What’s wrong? God, I thought it was my mother. It’s
very
early, Colette.’ Hilary struggled to wake up, mouthing the word
Colette
to Niall who had shot
up in the bed when the phone rang.

‘Sorry, I just don’t know who else to turn to,’ Colette gulped. ‘Des has had a heart attack. I found out from his mistress, with whom he was in bed when he had it. And he
had it because he’s lost a mint of our money with a guy called Bernie Madoff who’s been arrested for running a Ponzi scheme. And I didn’t know about it. And just when I
didn’t think things could get any worse I found out that he tried to trick me into signing a document that would put our London home, the property
my
aunt left
me
, up as
collateral for a massive loan he had planned to take out without telling me. Hilary, please, please come over to me. I
really
need you.’

‘Oh my God! Colette, that’s
horrendous.
I don’t know what to say. Will Des be OK?’ Hilary ran her fingers through her tousled hair and made a face at Niall who
was resting on his elbows looking at her through bleary eyes.

‘I think so. He’s in Lennox Hill. He had an angioplasty. I’ll know more tomorrow. Could you come over?’ Colette pleaded. ‘Hilary, our marriage is over. I’m
going to divorce him. I might have coped with the affair and losing the money but trying to trick me into signing over the flat is just devastating. I’ll have to tell Jazzy some of it and
I’ll have to shore up whatever’s left of our finances so that I won’t be left penniless. Thank God I didn’t sign that document without reading it or I’d have lost
everything.
’ Colette’s heart was doing double flips, and she thought she was going to be sick again.

‘Don’t do anything hasty,’ Hilary cautioned, horrified at what she was hearing. She didn’t particularly like Des Williams but he seemed to have played a very underhand
game with Colette.

‘I won’t but I know exactly what has to be done and I’m going to do it. I just don’t want to be here on my own when I’m doing it,’ Colette wept. ‘Please
say you’ll come.’

Hilary’s heart sank. But what could she do? Her friend was in the worst trouble possible, and even though Colette could be a fair-weather friend at times, when the chips were down she had
turned to Hilary, and she would feel an utter heel if she turned her back on her. ‘OK, I will,’ she agreed. ‘Go to sleep and I’ll suss out flights and I’ll talk to you
later.’

‘Oh thanks, Hil, you really are the
best
friend ever. I’m so grateful to you,’ Colette said with heartfelt gratitude.

‘Go to sleep, get some rest. I’ll call you later.’ Hilary threw her eyes up to heaven at Niall who was earwigging.

‘OK and thanks. And, Hilary . . .’

‘Yes?’

‘Don’t say a word about this to
anyone
,’ she warned.

‘Of course not!’ Hilary exclaimed. ‘Now try and get some sleep.’

‘OK, bye,’ Colette said tiredly and hung up. She replaced the receiver and switched off the lamp. Hilary was coming; she wouldn’t have to do what she was going to do on her
own.

‘What’s going on?’ Niall turned over and put his arms around Hilary as she lay back against him. ‘It sounds pretty grim.’

‘It is, Niall. It’s unbelievable. I don’t like the chap but I never thought Des Williams would be such an underhand creep.’ Hilary nuzzled in against her husband’s
shoulder and related the sorry saga to him.

‘You do have to go, I suppose,’ he said gravely when she came to the end. ‘Although I’m not sure she’d do the same for you,’ he added acerbically.

‘Ah don’t be like that, Niall,’ she chided. ‘I’m sure she would. Friends are friends when all’s said and done. Colette’s in a bad way. As if the affair
wasn’t enough to have to deal with.’

‘He was always a very cocky guy. So superior, especially about the financial stuff. So Madoff stung him! I’m glad I didn’t take any of his financial advice. We were hit bad
enough with ISTEC and the bank shares, but at least we didn’t borrow to speculate.’

‘Yeah well that bloody bank regulator has a lot to answer for and so does that Seán Quinn and his greedy gambling that
we’re
paying for,’ Hilary grumbled, still
smarting over the amount of money they had recently lost in the banking fiasco.

‘At least we haven’t gone under like some people.’ Niall stretched.

‘Yeah,’ she sighed. ‘It was horrible making the lads at work redundant; if we’re able to hang onto the showrooms we’ll be doing well. There’s a long, hard
road ahead of us. Thank God the girls are finished college.’

‘And doing well for themselves.’ Niall smiled at her. ‘If you’re going to Noo Yawk you can get them some Christmas prezzies in the sales. I’ll get them some when
I’m in Toronto.’

‘That’s what I love about you, your positivity. Even after all these years and all we’ve been through.’ She caressed his stubbly cheek tenderly.

Niall kissed her and got out of bed. ‘I’ll go down and make us a mug of tea and some toast – we’re hardly getting back to sleep now.’ He yawned.

‘Breakfast in bed will be a treat.’ She snuggled down under the duvet. The heating hadn’t timed on yet and there was a seasonal nip in the air.

‘And we might even have conjugals after brekkie if we have time,’ he grinned.

‘God be with the days when we’d have conjugals first and
then
breakfast,’ she teased, laughing as he went out the door.

She was
so
lucky, she thought gratefully. She and Niall had weathered a few storms to be sure, especially when she had been up to her eyes in work and feeling fraught and pulled in
every direction, but they still loved each other and looked out for each other. Although the mad passion of the early years had been replaced by loving familiarity, she would say they were still in
love with each other. There were couples she knew that loved each other but weren’t ‘in love’. She had always felt that Des and Colette were in that category. But even that
wasn’t certain after these revelations. Des appeared to have no feeling for his wife whatsoever. Trying to trick Colette into signing away the London flat was horrifying. He must have been
extremely desperate because of the money he had lost. There couldn’t be any other reason, she thought with a pang of sympathy for her friend’s soon-to-be-ex-husband.

‘Brekkie for my lady, and I’ve just had a brainwave!’ Niall arrived with the breakfast tray, a broad smile creasing his stubbly face.

‘A brainwave! What’s rare is wonderful,’ Hilary teased, taking her mug of tea from the tray. ‘Tell me.’

‘Nope, I’ll bring someone else on a second honeymoon, for being so smart.’ Niall grinned.

‘What?’ She spluttered her tea.

‘Let’s use Colette’s dilemma to our advantage.’ He offered her a slice of buttered toast. ‘I’ve to go to Toronto in a couple of days. Why don’t you fly
to New York, and then fly up to join me? It’s only a short hop, and we can stay a couple of nights and fly home together?’

‘You’re a
genius
, Niall!’ Hilary exclaimed excitedly. ‘It sounds fantastic! I’d never have thought of it. I always think Canada’s much further
north.’ She made a face. ‘It will cost an arm and a leg though and it’s very close to Christmas.’

‘It won’t cost an arm and a leg. My flights are covered because it’s work, and so is my hotel room. So we only have to pay your flights and the difference in accommodation
expenses. And we can do our Christmas shopping together and have it all done and gift-wrapped. Now that’s an offer you can’t refuse. Come on, we deserve it. It’s ages since
we’ve been away together. Say yes before you come up with an excuse.’ He eyed her expectantly over his mug of tea, brown eyes gleaming with anticipation.

‘You’re on! New York
and
a second honeymoon in Toronto! And you’re right. We do deserve it. Christmas has come early! Lucky, lucky me.’ She felt like a kid in a
candy store.

‘Every cloud has a silver lining. Let’s get some practice in,’ her husband murmured, placing his cup on his bedside table and leaning over to kiss her buttery mouth.

Unfamiliar sounds roused Des from his stupor and he lay for a few moments between waking and sleeping. He felt rough, groggy, and his mouth tasted like sandpaper. Where was he?
He wasn’t in his own bed. The sheets were hard and the pillows were scratchy against his cheek. He opened his eyes and blinked when he saw the monitors and felt the cannula in his hand.
‘What the hell?’ He sneezed. It hurt. He didn’t know if he was hot or cold.

And then he remembered!

Had he dreamed that Colette had stood by his bedside? Had he dreamed that she had said his ‘lady friend’ had called her? He groaned. He remembered arguing with Kaylee, telling her he
couldn’t afford to keep paying the rent on the neat studio he’d rented for them down on West Street. And why would she want to give it up with the views of the Harbor and Battery Park,
the roof garden, and the fitness centre? He loved it himself. Skylar had dropped him without a backward glance to go off and marry an older, best-selling, much married author – who was far
wealthier than Des – whom she’d met at a publishing party. He still smarted at how fast she’d dropped him to become a trophy wife to a man she didn’t love. He’d
decided that if he ever had another extramarital relationship he’d make sure to rent a smaller, cheaper apartment nearer to work. When he’d met Kaylee Hamilton, an administrative
compliance analyst at Citigroup, at a Christmas drinks party, she had been living with a boyfriend in Brooklyn Bridge Park.

‘I won’t be going to see you in Brooklyn,’ he’d flirted, half joking, even though he was very taken with her curvaceous, dark-haired, green-eyed, sultry looks.
She’d left the boy friend at New Year, and he’d set her up in a studio on West Street in Battery Park City. She was sparky, intelligent, very knowledgeable about the financial world,
and ambitious in her job, but not socially ambitious, which was very refreshing for Des. He’d grown tired of the rounds of parties and events he and Colette had to attend. Now he loved
nothing better that pulling on a baseball cap and a pair of shades and strolling hand in hand with Kaylee in South Cove on the Esplanade, exploring the winding walkways and quays, and necking a
beer, watching the evening sun glittering on the Hudson and the wide vista of the Harbor. Or sitting up on the roof garden of their building, sipping a cocktail and just looking out at the
panoramic views with the unmistakable, iconic Statue of Liberty, always a reminder of where he was and how far he had risen since he’d left the North East of England.

Little did he think, when he’d dreamed of moving to London, that he’d end up on Wall Street, with a mistress – his second – to boot. His parents would have been disgusted
with him, Des thought ruefully. But his marriage had grown stale in the last few years. Colette was so engrossed in the demands on her time as a result of their high-powered lifestyle she
didn’t give a lot of time to
him!
It was so refreshing, so energizing and affirming to be with a woman who found him sexy and responded with passion to his advances. With Colette he
sometimes felt she was going through the motions. And she
never
made the first move. She’d married him on the rebound from some rugby-playing medic. He’d known that and it had
made her somewhat bitter towards men. Conquering that latent hostility had been challenging. It excited him and spurred him on in his wooing and he had felt he’d succeeded. The early years of
their marriage in London had been good. They’d been a formidable team with a common goal, and they’d flourished, and how? But at what cost? Des thought dispiritedly. Colette would have
liked another child. She’d hated being an only child and wanted a sibling for Jazzy, but after years of trying they’d gone for tests and discovered that the fault lay with him. He had a
low sperm count. They had been lucky to conceive Jasmine. Once she knew the score Colette had been pragmatic and he’d felt secretly relieved on one level that she didn’t have to endure
pregnancy and childbirth again. It was a blow to his ego, though. He’d felt a failure and coming on top of the onset of middle age when he’d seen younger, more qualified, hotter guys
powering up the scale, it had made Des begin to realize that he had more good years behind him than before him and life was for living. He had taken the opportunity to hook up with Kaylee when it
came his way. His relationship with her was different from the one he’d had with Skylar, who, he wasn’t proud to admit, he had used purely for sex. Kaylee reminded him in ways of a
younger Colette. Vibrant, intelligent, sexy but much more laid-back and easy to be with.

He had thought Kaylee was cool with their situation, even though she had mentioned once or twice that she thought it would be nice if they could be together
all
the time. That was never
going to happen. Colette and he had a lifestyle that they had slogged for, and a place on the social register that had been hard won. A divorce would cost a hell of a lot. Colette and old man
O’Mahony would take him to the cleaner’s. It was too high a price to pay.

What was it with women? Even the most independent of them, the most ardent feminists, the most ambitious in their careers – like Kaylee – they all wanted the ring on their finger, no
matter what. Even his own daughter Jazzy wanted to be married and not ‘left on the shelf’, she told him once. Nothing had changed for women in that regard despite their so called
liberation, he’d thought, surprised, remembering how livid Kaylee had become when he’d suggested easing back on their relationship. For him the relationship had been a respite from real
life, but for Kaylee, although he hadn’t realized it, it had been a means to an end. Marriage!

The financial crises that had come crashing down around him had been the catalyst for this calamity. Kaylee’s studio was an expense he couldn’t sustain after taking the Madoff hit.
He’d hoped she’d understand, hoped she’d offer to pay the rent herself, but she had been so mad with him that he wouldn’t divorce Colette and move in with her that
she’d gone off on one when they were lying together after sex, and that was when the pain had hit.