A Time for Friends (61 page)

‘Happy New Year, Jonathan.’ Murray enveloped him in a bear hug that seemed the most natural thing in the world.

‘The same to you, Murray.’ Jonathan returned the hug, having spent the happiest New Year’s Eve in a long time. With Murray’s arms around him he had the surest sense of
knowing that he had found his way home.

‘Happy New Year, Hilary.’ Niall drew his wife to him and kissed her tenderly. ‘It’s a terrific party, thanks for everything. I love ya!’

‘I love you too, and thanks for providing the music for my party,’ she grinned, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him passionately.

‘Get a room, you two,’ Millie teased, embracing her parents when they stepped away from each other.

‘Happy New Year, Mam, Dad, Millie.’ Sophie put her arms around them all and gave a tipsy giggle, making room for her grandmother who had joined them.

‘Your Dad and Margaret, I’d say, are very happy looking down on us all here tonight. It was a great party and so nice for us all to be here together. Thanks for having such a lovely
family night,’ Sally declared, embracing her Hilary. ‘Aren’t we lucky all the same when you think of poor Colette, far away from her child and husband, miserable on her
own.’

‘We are
ver
y lucky,’ Hilary agreed fervently, grateful to be surrounded by family and friends, as Jonathan blew her a kiss and the ships’ sirens sounded their message
of celebration, and church bells pealed their song of welcome for the New Year.

Times might have turned very hard, but one good thing austerity was doing was bringing an awareness that what really mattered was not material wealth and status, but family and friends and
simple pleasures, Hilary reflected, closing the front door on the blustery night as Niall and the lads began a rousing rendition of ‘Crackling Rosie’.

‘Oooohh!’ Hilary grimaced. ‘What time is it?’

‘Half nine,’ yawned Niall, rubbing a hand over his stubbly jaw.

‘That’s not too bad. I don’t hear anyone else stirring.’

‘Do you want a cup of tea?’

‘In a minute. Put your arms around me and let’s have a snooze,’ Hilary said sleepily, snuggling in against her husband.

‘I have a genius for a wife,’ he said drowsily and moments later he was fast asleep, his breath ruffling her hair. Hilary lay dozing in his arms until a vaguely familiar sound
brought her awake. It was coming from downstairs, a Bond theme. ‘Goldfinger’. Jonathan’s phone. The eejit, he must have forgotten it. She slid out from under Niall’s arm,
grabbed her dressing gown and hurried downstairs.

The phone had stopped ringing, so she dialled the number on her landline and when it started to ring she saw it halfway down the side of an armchair. She checked out the missed call and saw that
it was Jonathan’s landline. Hilary dialled it, smothering a yawn.

‘Hello?’ Jonathan sounded agitated.

‘You idiot,’ she said affectionately.

‘Oh thank God – I thought I’d left it in the taxi!’ She could hear the relief in her friend’s voice. ‘I’ll drive over for it once I’ve got the
pork tenderloin stuffed.’

‘Stay where you are, I’ll drop it over. I know you’re cooking for the family lunch.’

‘You are a lifesaver, Hil! Thanks!’ he exclaimed.

‘Just have some fresh coffee brewed,’ she ordered. ‘See ya!’

She opened the fridge, poured herself a glass of orange juice and drank it thirstily. She’d grab something to eat at Jonathan’s.

Niall, who was snoring evenly, didn’t hear her shower or dress, so she scribbled a note and left it propped up against the lamp on his bedside locker. She walked quietly down the landing
and placed her ear against Colette’s bedroom door and listened. She could hear little ladylike snores and she smiled, glad that her friend was having a restful sleep. At least the ordeal of
New Year’s Eve was over for her.

There was very little traffic. It was a beautiful, crisp, cold morning and the sun, a pale lemon drop, threw sparkles on the sea, and bathed Howth in an ethereal, opaque light as she sped along
the Dublin Road to Baldoyle. Jonathan had chosen a very picturesque area to live, she approved, emerging onto the Strand Road and seeing the panorama of blue sea and sky and the emerald sward of
Portmarnock golf course across the water. It was such a different vista to the one he’d enjoyed when he’d lived in his eagle’s nest overlooking Dublin’s quays. But one that
she preferred.

She drove onto the yellow-brick drive outside his stone cottage, and parked behind his car. It was an old railway cottage with sash windows, on whose sills Jonathan had pots of pink and red
cyclamen in a glorious profusion of colour. A seasonal holly-and-red-ribboned wreath enlivened the crimson door with the gleaming brass knocker and letterbox. It was all chocolate-box pretty and
Hilary wouldn’t have expected anything less of him.

He had the door open before she even knocked. ‘I heard the car. It really is such a tank,’ he grinned, hugging her.

‘Don’t denigrate my trusty old Saab,’ she remonstrated, inhaling the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. ‘I need some of that coffee. I was lucky I didn’t fall asleep
at the wheel!’

‘Thanks a million for coming over with the phone. I’m way behind schedule as it is,’ he groaned, leading her into the kitchen where he had been preparing the main course for
the New Year’s Day lunch he would be cooking in Rosslara. ‘The girls are doing starters and desserts and Mama will be overseeing the entire proceedings from her armchair,’ he
laughed. ‘Thank God she’s still with us for another New Year. I couldn’t imagine her not being at home.’ Jonathan poured the dark brown liquid into two elegant coffee cups,
milked them and handed the cup and saucer to Hilary. Can I tempt you to a sausage roll?’ He arched an eyebrow at her.

‘Indeed you can,’ she smirked.

‘Guess what I had when I woke up?’

‘Tell me.’

‘Half a box of liqueurs.’

‘Oh cripes! I thought I was bad eating two chocolate Brazils.’

‘We’ll start next week,’ he promised. ‘I’m definitely going to walk at least a mile a day every morning, out on the seafront.’

‘You do that,’ she smiled, having heard about the ‘mile on the seafront’ ever since he had moved from the city a couple of years ago.

‘I am, deffo,’ he assured her, placing his stuffed tenderloins on a greased cooking dish and wrapping it carefully in tin foil.

‘So, what happened last night after you left?’ Hilary demanded, sipping the delicious coffee while she waited for her sausage roll to heat in the microwave.

‘Nothing really, because Murray is going home to cook lunch for his family today, and I’m doing the same for my gang. Both of us had to be up early. He lives in North County Dublin,
near Ashbourne, so we didn’t even share a taxi because our routes were miles away from each other but we’re going to meet up next Sunday. I’m going to cook lunch for him
here.’

‘I really like him,’ Hilary said. ‘And he fitted in so well. Niall was chuffed that he likes trad and can play the tin whistle and spoons.’

‘He’s very easy to be with. I like that about him. And he’s very interested in culture and art and so much of what I like.
And
he’s a photographer! He’s
going to show me how to take photos.’

‘Nude ones, I hope.’ Hilary grinned at him. Jonathan laughed.

‘You durty gurl! You’re a bad influence on me. Was that your phone ringing?’ He cocked his ear to the hall where she had left her bag on the ornate wrought-iron coat stand. She
slid off the stool wondering who would be calling her on New Year’s Day morning. Her immediate thought was that it must be her mother, as it always was when she got an unexpected phone call
late or early. She remembered the times Margaret would ring her to say she wasn’t well and invariably an ambulance would have to be called and they’d end up in A&E.

‘I missed a call from Colette.’ She made a face and sat back down and took another sip of coffee and a bite of her sausage roll. ‘She was sound asleep when I left.’

Her phone rang again and she saw it was from her messaging service. ‘What’s up with her, I wonder,’ she remarked, dialling 171.

‘A lot, if you ask me,’ retorted Jonathan. ‘You’d think I’d offered her cyanide when I asked her if she’d like me to freshen her drink last night. I was
merely being kind.’

‘As you always are.’ Hilary patted his arm as she listened to the voice telling her the time and date of her message. ‘Oh get on with it!’ She could hear sounds, like
someone moving around, and then she heard Niall say, ‘Oh you’re up, did you sleep well?’

‘On and off,’ she heard Colette say. ‘I just feel so sad.’

‘Ah you poor thing,’ Niall said, and there was more movement.

‘I think Colette rang my number by accident and it’s gone straight into message but she’s not turned off her phone,’ Hilary said. ‘I do that all the time with these
friggin’ touch phones. Remember the day I recorded us talking and I didn’t even know I was doing it? Oh yikes, she’s bawling now and poor Niall’s trying to comfort
her.’

‘Better him than me!’ Jonathan made a face.

‘Oh my God! Oh my God! Jesus, Mary and Joseph!’ Hilary exclaimed at what she was hearing.

‘What’s wrong?’ Jonathan came round the island and stood beside her, concerned, as she switched on the phone to speaker and Colette’s voice echoed tinnily around the
kitchen.

‘You’re one of the sexiest men I’ve ever met, Niall. You know that, don’t you? You’ve always known I fancied you. I just adore men with hairy chests. Des’s
was smooth, not like yours. Just between you and me, on all your travels, have you ever been a bad boy on Hilary? Because I don’t think there’s a man alive who could ever be
faithful.’

‘The evil little hoor!’ Jonathan exclaimed, eyes wide with dismay as he saw the look of total pained shock on Hilary’s face. He held her hand tight as they listened in mounting
horror to the events unfolding in Hilary’s kitchen.

Colette stared at her reflection in the cheval mirror of Hilary’s guest bedroom. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair tousled, her black silk négligée was open
to reveal a lacy wisp of black translucent chiffon nightdress that revealed the curve of her rounded breasts and deep décolletage. So sexy still, she thought admiringly. She had worn it
deliberately knowing that Niall would see her in it. She had just gone down the road of no return, Colette acknowledged. Her relationship with Niall was irrevocably changed, as was her relationship
with Hilary, unless Niall kept his mouth shut and didn’t go blurting things out. She hoped he would for all their sakes. If Hilary ever found out that she had set out to seduce her husband,
there’d be hell to pay. She picked up her overnight bag and began to pack. She wanted to be gone before Hilary got back.

Niall gunned the engine and drove out of his drive leaving tyre marks. He needed to think. Colette’s full-on invitation to have sex with her was still astonishing to him.
Women came on to him . . . a lot . . . especially when he was playing a gig, but Colette was something else. The way she used her body, the slanting seductive glances. And when she’d told him
she hadn’t had sex in months and she
ached
for him.

Niall groaned, thinking of what had gone on between them. What was he to do? What was he to say when Hilary came home, full of anticipation for the family dinner they were going to at her
sister’s this evening? She would be so hurt. So desperately hurt if she knew. She gave everything in a relationship. She was the kindest, most giving, most caring person he knew, and none of
that had meant diddly-squat. Should he tell her? What was the kindest thing to do? Tell her or say nothing and let her go on in blissful ignorance of the complete and heinous betrayal that had gone
on behind her back?

Niall parked the car on the seafront, and head down, hands jammed in his pockets, he strode along the promenade, his jaw tense, his eyes bleak, as he replayed the scenario with Colette over and
over in his head.

‘What are you going to do?’ Jonathan asked hesitantly when Hilary’s sobs had subsided.

‘Can you believe that, Jonathan? I was her best friend, her oldest friend. After all my kindness to her over the years. Can you believe that she would stab me in the back like that,
without a thought?’ Hilary hiccuped.

‘Even
I
didn’t think she’d sink that low,’ Jonathan said solemnly. ‘And I’ve never liked her.’

‘And the irony of it is that Niall was always telling me she wasn’t a real friend,’ Hilary said bitterly, picking up her bag. ‘Well very soon she’s going to rue the
day she did the dirty on me. I’m going to deal with her first,’ Hilary said grimly, wiping her eyes.

‘Do you want me to come with you?’ Jonathan offered.

‘Ah thanks, but you need to get going to Rosslara—’

‘I need to be with a friend who needs me,’ interjected Jonathan. ‘An extra hour won’t make too much of a difference.’

‘No. I’ll deal with this myself. I should have cut her out of my life years ago and then all this wouldn’t have happened.’

‘Let me know how things go, won’t you?’ he urged.

‘Of course. I’ll probably be bawling on the phone to you.’

‘Bawl away, and if you want me to come back tonight to be with you, I will.’

‘You’re a great pal, Jonathan,’ she said brokenly, tears overflowing again. He held her tight, patted her back and stroked her hair until she was calm again.

‘Now I wouldn’t be much of a pal if I let you out looking like a panda bear on crack!’ he said firmly, rooting in her bag for her hairbrush, lipstick, dusting powder and brush.
‘Sit still while I minister to you,’ he ordered, rinsing a tissue under the tap to wipe her tears and mascara-run, before deftly sweeping the powder brush over her cheekbones and
forehead, then tracing lipstick over her mouth. He brushed her hair, feathering her fringe, and stood back to look at her. ‘That’s better. Now if you feel you need reinforcements ring
me and I’ll be up the road after you, quicker than a crooked politician palming a brown envelope.’

In spite of herself, Hilary laughed. ‘You’re incorrigible, Harpur.’