Niall poured himself another glass of wine. He was nicely woozy. Unlike Hilary, he’d been able to have a few drinks at dinner and this little nightcap was tipping him over the edge. Just where he wanted to be right now, he thought gloomily. There was a time when Hilary would have welcomed his advances with a passion that matched his own. But these days she was too tired, or had too much on the go, and their sex life was suffering. It wasn’t just the sex, it was the intimacy, the cuddles and snuggling, that he was missing.
This was the kind of thing that drove men to having affairs. Colette had been giving him the eye tonight, flirting with him. If he’d made a pass at her he was damn sure he wouldn’t have been rejected and pushed away like he’d just been by Hilary, Niall thought drunkenly, feeling very sorry for himself while he channel-surfed and polished off the remainder of the wine.
‘What did you have to mention the weed episode in front of them for?’ Colette glowered at her husband as they undressed for bed in her parents’ guest room.
‘I was pissed off with Jazzy. I was enjoying that meal. Best steak I’ve had in ages and she goes off and pulls one of her stunts! We’ve given her everything, the best education, homes you or I never dreamed of having, a lifestyle fit for a princess, and she goes and gets tanked and makes a show of us. Thank God it was in some hick little disco and not in front of any of the City crowd back home. She’s so grounded!’ Des was not in the mood for recriminations from his wife.
‘There was still no need to mention that weed episode,’ Colette snapped, sliding a silk nightdress over her head and shoulders. ‘I was mortified.’
‘Who cares about what they think – we won’t see them again for years,’ Des said dismissively.
‘We invited them to come and stay with us,’ she reminded him irritably.
‘You invited them,’ he corrected her. ‘Make sure they don’t come when we’re entertaining. You should have told them to come after Labor Day. Tell them we’re booked up until then,’ he carped, climbing into bed and pulling the duvet over his shoulder as he turned his back on her.
‘They can’t come in September. Sophie will be back at school,’ Colette pointed out as she cold-creamed her face.
‘Tough, not our problem. Don’t read for long, I’m beat.’
Colette didn’t answer. She had just heard her parents’ taxi pull up. She hoped fervently that Jazzy would stay sleeping. She was snoring her head off in her drunken stupor, but at least she’d stopped being sick. Colette got into bed and switched off her bedside light. She was beyond stressed. Jazzy’s behaviour was unacceptable, but no matter how much she was grounded or chastised, it was making no difference. She wasn’t alone in worrying about her child. Several mothers in her set had behavioural problems with their children. Not that they alluded to it directly. Colette heard these snippets on the grapevine. No doubt the other mothers heard nuggets about Colette on the very same grapevine. There was no one back in New York that she could confide her worries to. There was no one here either, apart from Hilary, she thought glumly as Des began a crescendo of snores that could be heard in Howth.
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
