‘Why don’t you go to London for a while and see how it goes without being too final about it?’ Hilary suggested diplomatically.
‘I don’t want to live in some crappy egg box, midtown, fighting Des for maintenance money he won’t have. I don’t want to be dumped off my charity boards because I can’t afford the whopping donation fees that are the price for being on them. I don’t want to pass restaurants I didn’t think twice about dining in because I can’t afford to eat in them. I don’t want to give up my Platinum card for an ordinary one. I don’t want to slum it on public transport. I don’t want to fly coach,’ Colette retorted. ‘Call me a snob if you like, but I worked hard for the lifestyle that I’ve had until now. It would just make me utterly, utterly depressed to give it up. We were supposed to be going to St Barts for a week in February. Where’s he going to bring me now? New Jersey? Let him bring his mistress there and see how long she stays with him.’ Colette took another slug of her wine, her eyes glittering with anger and unshed tears.
Hilary stayed silent. She certainly understood Colette’s reasons for leaving New York but she didn’t know what to say to soothe her, but at least Colette was expressing her anger and not keeping it bottled up.
‘Should I go to visit Des?’ she ventured.
‘I don’t care. It’s up to you,’ Colette said sullenly, going to the fridge to get another bottle. ‘Come on, let’s go into the den, I’ll switch on the fire. You’re doing a lot of wriggling on the chair. What’s wrong with your back?’
‘It’s a bit dodgy at the minute,’ Hilary explained, following Colette into the elegant cream-and-claret-toned room. She stretched out on a recliner chair. ‘Oh! That’s better,’ she sighed as the niggle in her back eased. ‘I suppose it didn’t help having a ride on the settee last night and then having a six-hour flight today.’ She sipped her wine.
‘Why didn’t you do it in bed?’ Colette looked at Hilary over the rim of her glass as she lay curled up on the sofa.
‘We got carried away,’ Hilary laughed. ‘We’re having a revival now that the girls don’t live at home any more.’
‘After all these years! Are you for real? I can’t remember the last time I got carried away,’ Colette said morosely. ‘You’re a lucky wagon.’
‘Yeah, I suppose I am,’ Hilary conceded, hoping Colette wouldn’t become a surly drunk.
‘Do you think St Niall would cheat on you?’ The question was fuelled with anger and drunken resentment.
‘That’s not nice, Colette,’ rebuked Hilary. ‘And the answer is I don’t know. Does anyone?’
‘But you have the perfect marriage, don’t you?’ Colette said sarcastically. Drink always gave her a hard edge.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, of course I don’t!’ Hilary scoffed. ‘There’s no such thing as the perfect marriage. Niall and I drive each other mad sometimes and we’ve had our ups and downs, especially when business was booming and I was flat out at work and feeling a lot of resentment towards him because I felt he wasn’t backing me up, and he felt I was putting work before him. No way is my marriage perfect but we work through our stuff and we still love each other, and that’s all that matters, isn’t it?’
‘I suppose so,’ Colette muttered.
‘Do you still love, Des?’ Hilary demanded.
‘Oh! I . . . I don’t know. We complement each other. We have the same interests and goals. We’re a good team. Were a good team!’ she corrected herself.
‘And do you still fancy him?’ Hilary asked bluntly.
‘We’ve been married nearly twenty-five years, for God’s sake. That wears off!’ Colette exclaimed exasperatedly.
‘Well actually it doesn’t, Colette. I still fancy Niall big time. He turns me on and I turn him on and that’s as important as anything else in our marriage. Perhaps you should go to counselling.’
‘That would be hard if I’m living in London and he’s living here,’ jeered Colette.
‘Not if you get on your broomstick,’ Hilary retorted, glaring at her.
‘Bitch!’ Colette snapped.
‘Good though, wasn’t it?’ Hilary grinned.
‘You always were a sarky cow!’
‘Moi?’ Hilary teased. ‘I was only trotting after you.’ She fanned herself with her hand as a hot flush engulfed her.
‘Are you having flashes?’ Colette eyed her in surprise.
‘If you mean flushes, yes.’ Hilary blew some air up onto her face. ‘Have you started yet?’
‘Are you crazy? I’m not putting up with that carry-on. I’m on HRT. You should be on it too. No wonder your skin has lost its tone and you’re creaking.’
‘Thanks,’ Hilary said caustically.
‘Well you know what I mean. What are you letting yourself go for, when you can do something about it? HRT’s fantastic.’
‘Listen, when you come off it you’ll have the flashes as you call them, so you’re just putting it off. I just want to get it over and done with.’
‘Well at least I’m keeping my looks and my flexibility, and I’m not a cranky dried-up old crab. The menopause is the last thing I need on top of this.’
‘True,’ conceded Hilary. ‘That could send you over the top completely. You wouldn’t even need a broomstick.’ Colette laughed and the tense atmosphere evaporated.
‘Are you going to tell your parents?’ Hilary tried not to yawn. She was longing to go to bed but she had flown over the Atlantic to support her friend; it would be rude to plead jet lag.
‘Are you mad? And have Dad lording it over Des?’ Colette derided.
‘So! You still feel loyalty towards him. That’s something to hold on to.’
‘No, Hil!’ Colette shook her head. ‘That was an automatic response, and I don’t want Dad thinking my judgement was seriously flawed, which it obviously was. Des will
