Jonathan seemed a very decent bloke. She liked that he was making sure that his friend was OK, Hilary approved, catching the waitress’s attention and mouthing, ‘Two coffees, please.’
They had just been placed on the table when Jonathan arrived back. ‘All sorted,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I’m allowed to date you as long as I get her a cheeseburger on the way home.’
‘And is there any significant other in your life?’ Hilary asked, pouring milk into her coffee.
‘Tragically, no. I’m all alone and celibate as a nun,’ Jonathan sighed. ‘I was with someone for a while but it didn’t work out. He was sports mad and I couldn’t hack it. Standing on the sidelines watching him play badminton and shuttling that cock over the net did my head in eventually. It’s not even real tennis,’ he grumbled. ‘Do you know any sexy gay men at all?’ he queried hopefully.
‘Sorry, none that are unattached. I know one couple who are regular customers, and another guy who sources lights for his restaurants but he’s seeing someone,’ Hilary said apologetically.
‘Never mind, I’m immersing myself in my work for the time being anyway.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘We need to get a move on. Lunch is on me,’ he added firmly, taking out his wallet.
‘No!’ protested Hilary, rooting in her bag for her purse.
‘Yes!’ Jonathan gave her a stern look that made her laugh. ‘Don’t forget you’ll be giving me a discount. I’m just worming my way into your affections.’
‘Well I’m getting our takeaway tonight then,’ she responded equally firmly as a lipstick and one of Millie’s sparkly hairbands fell out onto the table.
‘Right, Mary Poppins, sort yourself and that bag while I go and pay.
‘I’m looking forward to the domestic lighting module. It sure beats the hell out of being stuck at work – it will be the happiest day of my life when I can resign from the Civil Service,’ Jonathan confided when they headed for the exit.
‘That’s a big step to take,’ Hilary remarked as they emerged onto the quays, the balmy breeze blowing their hair around their faces. The sun sparkled on the Liffey, a flowing, glittering ribbon of molten silver, and the scent of flowers from a street seller’s stall perfumed the air. A seagull squawked from the Jeanie Johnston’s masts and a small boat chugged towards the East Link Bridge, leaving a foamy swirl in its wake. She inhaled deeply and wished they had time to sit in the sun over a glass of wine and watch the world go by.
‘We all have to take a leap of faith sometimes,’ he said lightly, falling into step beside her.
‘Giving up a permanent and pensionable job isn’t a decision to be taken lightly.’
‘Yes, Mammy!’ Jonathan said drily.
Hilary laughed. ‘That did sound a bit middle-aged all right,’ she conceded.
‘Don’t worry, I want to have a good portfolio of clients, and I’m getting there slowly but surely and you know where you and I should look for business?’ He steered her across Custom House Quay.
‘Where?’ She was intrigued.
‘Lots of hotels are having spa areas installed, and proper lighting is crucial. That’s the market we need to go after.’
‘Well, would you believe, we’ve supplied lighting for several hotels doing just that,’ Hilary said.
‘Supplied the lighting!’ He made a face. ‘We should design, supply and install. There’s a whole new market out there just waiting to be tapped in to.’
‘Are you suggesting we work together?’ Hilary exclaimed.
‘You’ve said it, missus. Hammond and Harpur Interior and Lighting Design Specialists. What do you think?’
‘I think it has a very good ring to it!’ Hilary grinned. ‘“Sculptural”, as Jacintha might say!’
‘Oooohhh bitchy, I like it.’
Laughing, they made their way into the hotel, delighted with the unexpected bonus of new friendship that their design course had brought them.
C
HAPTER
F
IVE
‘I really think it’s going to be me, Colette. I’ve just had an email from Daniel Burdell. Reading between the lines I think you and I are heading for New York.’ Des was on a high as they sat in the back of the chauffeur-driven car that was taking them to Heathrow. They’d entertained the Japanese businessman and his little dumpling of a wife to afternoon tea in the exquisite surroundings of the stately home and now luxury hotel that Cliveden House had become. She wished she’d had time to wander around and admire the antiques and paintings but she’d performed her wifely duty and made small talk with their guests, and Des’s potential client.
‘Jerry Olsen is going to go ballistic! Tough luck, Jerry boy!’ Des rubbed his hands.
Colette sighed. Was it the line of coke he’d taken before they left, or was he really in with a chance for the promotion that would see them relocate to the US? She hated it when Des took coke. He was hyper enough without it, but the drug made him edgy and manic.
‘Let’s not count our chickens before they’re hatched,’ she murmured, but her husband wasn’t listening; he had resumed working on his laptop, tapping furiously as they sped along the M4. She gazed out of the car window noticing the iconic Round Tower and turrets of Windsor Castle in the distance. The flags fluttering in the breeze and great oak trees framing the view. In spite of her irritation with her husband, she still thought what a magical, otherworldly sight it was, conjuring up images of knights in shining armour jousting for their ladies. She had been to a weekend party years ago in a stately country
