A Time for Friends (22 page)

‘Oh!’

‘But now that you’ve phoned and apologized, a first, I may add, I probably will.’ Hilary softened. ‘Now I really do have to go. I’ve to fit in visits to the parents
and I’m way behind schedule. Happy Christmas, Colette. I’m glad you rang.’

‘Me too. Happy Christmas, Hilary. I’ll call you in the new year,’ Colette said eagerly.

‘Do that,’ Hilary agreed. ‘See you.’

‘Bye, Hilary. I’m glad we’re talking again.’

‘Me too. Talk soon.’ And then she was gone, and Colette heaved a sigh of relief. Hilary was still a bit cool, but at least they were back on track, and that was all that
mattered.

‘You’re a big softie.’ Niall shook his head.

‘It’s Christmas and she made the first move and I don’t like holding grudges.’ Hilary resumed chopping parsley and thyme. The kitchen was filled with the aromas of
Christmas, herbs, spices, candle wax, pine, and a tape of seasonal songs and carols added to the festive atmosphere in the Hammond household.

‘She won’t change, you know,’ her husband warned her.

Hilary laughed. ‘I know that, Niall. I’m not a complete idiot. Someday we’ll drift apart or she’ll push me so far there won’t be any turning back, but that’s
not today, and I’m glad she phoned. It shows she values the friendship at some level, and that’s all that matters for the moment. Now be a good husband and pour me a glass of wine,
because you’re driving tonight, and I want to get into the Christmas spirit,’ Hilary instructed briskly.

‘Ho! Ho! Ho!’ grinned Niall, pouring a glass of Merlot for his dearly beloved.

‘Ho! Ho! Ho! to you too,’ laughed Hilary, raising her glass to him. ‘And to absent friends,’ she added before taking a sip of the ruby liquid, glad that there was no
longer an estrangement between her and Colette.

‘I’m really sorry, Jonathan, I thought we would have been out of here ages ago. Someone collapsed so the clinic’s running way behind and Mrs Hammond’s
not been seen yet. I’ll be with you as soon as I can,’ Hilary murmured into her mobile as she stood in the busy hospital corridor outside the warfarin clinic where her mother-in-law was
waiting to be tested.

‘Why couldn’t “The Secretary” bring her?’ Jonathan asked snippily, referring to Hilary’s sister-in-law, Sue. He called her ‘The Secretary’ because
she was always banging on about being the PA to a busy property developer, or, as Jonathan called him, ‘A-Builder-with-Attitude’.

‘She’s too busy and couldn’t take the time off work,’ Hilary said flatly.

‘Oh and
you’re
not too busy and it’s OK for
you
to take time off work and Mrs H is not even
your
mother,’ Jonathan grouched.

‘Stop giving out, I’ll be with you as soon as I can,’ Hilary retorted. ‘See you.’ She hung up, switched her phone to vibrate mode and slid it back into her bag.

‘Hilary dear, why don’t you go ahead. I know you have a meeting to get to. I’ll get a taxi home,’ Margaret urged when Hilary went back into the waiting room and sat down
beside her mother-in-law.

‘Not at all, Gran, I rang Jonathan and told him I’d be a bit delayed and he can do his designer bits until I get there.’

‘He’s a lovely lad, I’m very fond of him.’ Margaret smiled, her grey eyes twinkling.

‘Me too.’ Hilary smiled back, thinking what a beautiful complexion her seventy-five-year-old mother-in-law had. Nivea Crème was her secret, Margaret assured her. She had used
it since she was a young woman.

‘I feel bad about delaying you, dear. I know you’re busy,’ the old lady fretted.

‘Don’t worry about it at all,’ Hilary soothed. She didn’t want Niall’s mother feeling under pressure. Margaret Hammond was a kind, gentle lady and a great
mother-in-law and grandmother. She had welcomed Hilary into the family with open arms. Early in their relationship she’d confided to Hilary that of all the girls Niall had brought home,
Hilary was the one that Margaret had hoped he’d marry. When the grandchildren had been born, Niall’s parents couldn’t have been happier and Margaret had been a very hands-on
grandmother. When her husband had died, she had become even more immersed in their family, and sometimes Hilary felt she had two mothers.

Sue, Niall’s sister, could not be more different and the relationship she had with Hilary was superficial and distant. She made fleeting appearances at family events but her lifestyle was
so busy and all-consuming, family were way down the ladder. Brash and self-absorbed, Sue took no responsibility for her now elderly mother’s care, and as Margaret grew more frail, needing
frequent doctors’ appointments, it fell to Hilary and Niall to do the lion’s share of caring. If she hadn’t been truly fond of her mother-in-law she would have been a bubbling
cauldron of resentment, Hilary reflected when Margaret was finally called for her blood test.

Her own mother was recovering from a bad dose of flu and between visiting Sally and cooking meals for both sets of elderly parents, as well as being up to her eyes at work, Hilary was feeling
fraught and stretched. It was Sophie’s’ birthday at the weekend and her daughter wanted to host a sleepover for five of her friends. A daunting prospect.

I’ll think about it tomorrow, Hilary thought, doing a Scarlett O’Hara on it and hoping against hope that Margaret might get away with a month before being tested again. She had been
taking antibiotics and steroids for a chest infection and they played havoc with her warfarin.

It wasn’t to be, and Hilary’s heart sank when the nurse gave them an appointment for the following fortnight. Sue would have to bring her mother to that appointment and that was the
end of it, Hilary decided, not relishing the thought of the phone call she would have to make to her sister-in-law.

‘I know you’re in a hurry so we won’t stop for coffee,’ Margaret said when Hilary helped her into her coat.

‘Are you sure?’ she said, feeling a bit of a heel. She knew her mother-in-law loved their cup of coffee and scone after her warfarin test, but she really needed to drop her home and
get to Castleknock to meet Jonathan and their new client.

‘We’ll do it again,’ Margaret assured her, slipping a pair of black-leather gloves onto her thin hands and grasping her walking stick firmly. She had broken her ankle in a fall
and was only recently out of plaster and was a little unsteady on her feet. Hilary had offered to get her a wheelchair but Margaret wanted to get along under her own steam. If you gave in to
yourself it was another step on the slippery road to dependency was her reasoning.

‘I’ll tell you what, let me get a few cream cakes on my way home and I’ll pop in for a cuppa later with the girls,’ she suggested, taking her mother-in-law’s arm
and tailoring her pace to suit Margaret’s.

‘Lovely! I’ll have the fire lighting. I haven’t seen them since last week.’ Margaret perked up. Since Niall’s father had passed away two years previously she was
lonely and loved company. Her granddaughters were her pride and joy and Sophie and Millie loved her dearly. But they were busy at secondary school now, their lives full, of study, sport and girly
sessions with their friends. Sometimes she hardly saw them herself, if she was working down the country on a project, Hilary thought ruefully, hoping she hadn’t got clamped in the hospital
car park.

It was over an hour later that she swung into the circular drive of a large, detached, double-fronted, red-brick house in Castleknock and saw Jonathan’s black BMW parked beside a massive
SUV.

Hard to believe that Jonathan was now driving a top-of-the-range BMW. Hilary smiled, remembering a couple of boneshakers he’d driven in the early days of their partnership. He had come a
long way from his studio flat, and his Civil Service job, in the past ten years. He had used every contact Kinsella Illuminations had provided – builders, electricians, quantity surveyors
– to claw his way to the top. There was so much building going on, extending the commuter belt, he’d ended up decorating a slew of show houses along the east coast, from Dundalk to
Gorey, while she’d handled the lighting design, and as their portfolio grew over the years of the Celtic Tiger, their work had multiplied.

She pulled up behind the BMW and glanced in her mirror and frowned. She certainly looked stressed, she thought, noting the deepening lines around eyes and mouth. She needed to touch up her
lipstick. She applied a slick of Mulberry Rose, sprayed some L’Air du Temps on her wrist and got out of the car. A squally gust blew her hair into her eyes and she shivered. It could very
well snow, Hilary thought, looking at the leaden sky and the banks of dark clouds that were rolling ominously in from the east.

A young woman with a baby in her arms answered the door. Early twenties, foreign, had to be the au pair rather than the client, Hilary surmised. ‘Ello, madam,’ the young woman said
politely. ‘Madam ees expecting you. Let me take your coat and show you upstairs. Zhat ees where zey are now.’

‘Thank you.’ Hilary followed her in to a wide, bright hall, papered in an elegant grey, green and gold stripe above the white dado rail and painted a pale mint green below. Very
nice, Hilary thought, admiring the sparkling chandelier and the gleaming bevelled wall mirror that made the hall look even more spacious and light.

The baby smiled a huge toothless grin at her as she followed the au pair up the grey-and-gold-carpeted stairs and Hilary’s heart melted. She had a sudden, overpowering longing to cuddle
the baby and feel its soft downy head against her cheek, nestled in against her.
Oh for God’s sake
! she thought wildly.
Haven’t you enough on your plate without getting
broody?

‘Ah there you are!’ Jonathan appeared at the top of the stairs immaculately turned out in his D&G ruby shirt, black trousers, and a black-and-ruby scarf knotted casually around
his neck. His blond hair was perfectly highlighted and styled and Hilary felt guilty that she hadn’t made more of an effort with her own appearance. She was wearing a taupe trouser suit and
black cami and a string of pearls but her indulgences at Christmas and the Millennium New Year celebrations had resulted in her piling on at least half a stone in weight. The waistband of her
trousers was digging in to her. Her boobs were stretching the cami, which clung to her spare tyre, and she knew she had a VPL. At least she smelt perfumed, she thought ruefully, catching
Jonathan’s gaze at her cleavage. She looked down and saw her glasses and a tissue tucked into her bra and managed to whip them out and shove them in her handbag before a slender young woman
in jeans and a lilac cashmere jumper emerged from the bedroom Jonathan had come from. ‘Hi, you must be Hilary.’ She smiled. ‘I’m Andrea Keirns. Thanks for
coming—’

‘Terribly sorry I’m late. I got delayed at a clinic with my mother-in-law,’ Hilary explained, hastily shaking hands.

‘No worries, Jonathan and I have had a wonderful time plotting and planning,’ Andrea said gaily, holding her arms out for the baby. ‘Yolanda, will you go and make us coffee,
please, and serve it in the library,’ she instructed her au pair.

‘Yes, madam,’ the girl said dutifully, her long black hair swinging behind her from its high ponytail as she hurried downstairs.

‘I adore what you did with Rowena’s house. Her parents are friends of my mother’s,’ Andrea raved. ‘As I was telling Jonathan, this house was the family home, but my
dad passed away several years ago and my brother is in Australia and it’s got too big for my mother to rattle around in on her own – it’s got five bedrooms – so me and my
husband have sold our house and bought this one and Mum’s moved into the mews at the end of the garden. We want to do a big makeover and update it. I’d love to have a lighting system
installed with dimmers and spots, and something similar, but
different,
to Rowena’s,’ Andrea explained chattily. ‘But needless to say I don’t want her to think
I’m copying her,’ she added hastily. ‘I absolutely love the way you put the lights in the wall at floor level in the hall and landing, and the lights up the stairs. That was
gorgeous
!’ Andrea enthused. ‘And besides you designed that a few years back, it’s at least eight or nine years ago if I remember, so when we get ours done it will be even
more contemporary, which is the look I’m going for.’

‘Expensive though, as I’m sure Jonathan has told you. All the walls will have to be chased and replastered,’ Hilary pointed out, shooting a look at Jonathan who gave a slight
shrug.

‘Oh that’s no problem, we’ve remortgaged to get the job done. It’s fine,’ Andrea said airily. ‘I want to put
my
stamp on it and totally modernize it.
All white walls, very minimalist, and wooden floors.’

‘Well off-white,’ Jonathan cut in smoothly. ‘With feature walls and splashes of colour in the accessories. You don’t want it to look
too
cold. I’m thinking
crimson, mint green, and grey cushions, throws and lampshades to suit the look Andrea wants.’

‘Very nice,’ agreed Hilary, privately thinking what a shame it would be to change the relaxing pastel colour palette that Andrea’s parents had decorated the house in. It had a
warm, welcoming feel and it didn’t need a whole lot of refurbishing, Hilary thought, eyeing the expensive luxury deep-pile carpets and the tasteful drapes and blinds. Even the softest of
lighting could not completely take the cool look from white, no matter what colours accessorized the house. White was fine for hot sunny climates, she reflected as a sudden squall of rain hurled
against the landing window and the dreary gloom outside emphasized the snug warm interior space she was standing in. House makeovers on TV had certainly caught people’s imaginations, but
sometimes they were OTT and looked disastrous. Hilary had long ago learned that most clients knew exactly what look they wanted and it was up to her and Jonathan to advise and facilitate rather
than impose their own tastes on a project.

‘Jonathan tells me you’re working on a lot of leisure centres and spas. I love going to Powerscourt Springs. Have you ever been?’ she asked eagerly.