‘Colette, don’t be so pass-remarkable. Frances is recovering from cancer, she’s on steroids, and she’s minding her elderly parents as well,’ Hilary remonstrated, irritated at how superficial and judgemental Colette could be. If you weren’t thin you were a failure in her eyes.
‘Oh! Well I didn’t know that.’
‘Yet you felt free to make a judgement about her weight nevertheless. You should stop it. You do it all the time and it’s not nice.’
‘Oh shut up,’ Colette snapped. ‘I suppose you never make bitchy comments when you’re with your little queen friend.’
‘There you go again,’ Hilary retorted.
‘Well he is a little queen with those scarves and pointy winkle-pickers,’ Colette said sulkily.
‘Jonathan is the best friend anyone could have. You’d be lucky to have a friend like him.’ Hilary decided against having the little ginger biscuit served with her coffee in case Colette made some remark about her weight.
‘I have you,’ Colette grinned, and Hilary laughed.
‘It’s good to see our girls becoming close.’ Colette sat back in her chair displaying her tanned legs to the best advantage.
‘They had a great time the other night. There was lots of giggling and laughing.’
‘That’s probably the bottle of wine they smuggled upstairs. Jazzy told me that Sophie is quite the little plonkie behind that innocent façade.’
What a bitch you are, Hilary thought in disgust. You could have kept that to yourself.
‘I did tell you that night we had to collect Jazzy when she was pissed that I have no doubts that Millie and Sophie drink behind my back. We did it, Colette. Why would our daughters be any different? It’s a rite of passage.’ But at least I’ve never had to collect my daughter from a disco because she was falling down drunk, she wanted to add, but she refrained. She wasn’t going to sink to Colette’s level of bitchiness.
She drained her coffee cup. ‘I have to go. I have to inspect a building and make sure everything’s being done as per the plans,’ she said.
‘Aw no, I thought we were going to have a good gossip. We never got a chance to the other night,’ Colette protested.
‘Sorry, I’m not on my hols like you are,’ Hilary said lightly, standing up.
‘But I won’t get to see you again,’ Colette pouted. ‘Do come out, we’d love to have you visit.’
Not in a million years, thought Hilary, picking up the bill. ‘I’ll get this,’ she said briskly. ‘Take care, Colette.’
‘OK, see you.’ Colette stood up and gave her an air kiss. ‘Keep in touch.’
‘Sure,’ Hilary threw over her shoulder as she walked to reception to pay their coffee bill. Was this the way a friendship ended? she wondered. Over coffee, with promises to keep in touch? For the first time ever she couldn’t give Colette any leeway or make excuses. She was just not a nice person and that was it. She couldn’t wait to let Hilary know that Sophie had smuggled a bottle of wine in for their sleep-over.
She’d have to deal with that later, she thought grimly. Or would she? Hilary and Colette and all their friends had drunk alcohol behind their parents’ backs at Sophie’s age. She just might subtly let her daughter know that she was keeping an eye on her.
When she got home, she went into the garage and rummaged through the bag of empties that would be going for recycling. Blossom Hill, there it was. She and Niall hadn’t drunk that. She took the bottle out and brought it in and placed it on the kitchen counter.
She was chopping onions for the spaghetti bolognese when Sophie bounced into the kitchen. ‘Hi, Mam, what’s for dinner? I’m starving!’
‘Your favourite,’ Hilary said affably. ‘Will you be having wine with it?’
She stared at the empty bottle on the counter.
Sophie blushed to her roots. ‘Oh!’ she exclaimed, mortified.
‘Just be careful, Sophie. That’s all I’m asking you. Drink can be a very dangerous thing. You saw what happened to Jazzy.’
‘Sorry, Mam,’ she said guiltily. ‘We were just having fun.’
‘I know. But you’re still very young so just be careful.’
‘I love you, Mam.’ Sophie flung her arms around her.
‘And I love you,’ Hilary said, hugging her daughter tightly. Maybe Colette had done them a favour in spite of herself, Hilary thought, relishing the closeness she had with Sophie and the loving affection behind her daughter’s embrace.
C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-O
NE
‘Niall, were you talking to your mam today?’ Hilary asked, trying to keep the note of concern out of her voice.
‘Er . . . not yet, no,’ her husband admitted. ‘I was in meetings all morning. Why?’
‘She’s not answering her landline or her mobile,’ Hilary said, trying to quell the feeling of dread that was rising in her. ‘I’d better drive over and make sure she’s OK.’
‘You have the key, don’t you?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Any of the girls around?’
‘No, Sophie’s gone into town with her gang and Millie’s minding Gillian Nolan’s kids for an hour or two. I’d better go. I’ll ring you from Gran’s. Bye.’
‘Bye,’ he said. ‘Thanks, Hilary.’
Hilary dialled Margaret’s phone once more, almost holding her breath, hoping against hope to hear the familiar, if slightly breathless, tones of her mother-in-law with her usual cheery greeting. The phone continued to ring, unanswered. She would have been very surprised if Margaret had gone somewhere and forgotten her phone. She had been very wheezy the past month and had been on steroids again. She was in no fit state to be going anywhere.
Hilary grabbed her bag and keys and hurried out to the car. It was very unlike Margaret not to answer her phone. Once or twice before, Hilary had phoned and Margaret had been in the toilet or out at the bin and she had phoned back, but there
