‘Ah no, I really don’t want to put you out,’ he repeated, composing himself.
‘Don’t be daft. Get your skinny ass over here pronto!’ she instructed and heard him give a small chuckle.
‘Bossy, aren’t you? Are you sure?’
‘Certain!’ she reiterated firmly.
‘Thanks, Hilary. You’re a pal, and I need one right now,’ he said gratefully.
‘A pongy pal,’ she smiled. ‘I have to go and have a quick shower. I reek of alcohol and I stink! See you in about twenty minutes. Can you remember how to get here?’
‘Yeah, I remember. Thanks, I owe you,’ he said and hung up.
Galvanized and wondering what on earth was the matter with her new friend, Hilary opened the fridge, took a long slug of orange juice straight from the carton and hurried upstairs to shower. The hot water sluicing down over her shoulders felt good and she lathered soap over herself and began to feel much more human. She dried herself swiftly, pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, towelled her hair dry and ran her fingers through it to shape it and applied a sliver of lipstick before grabbing her purse and house keys.
Her stomach was growling as she walked briskly down the tree-lined street and around the small green, surrounded by neat cottages, to make her way to the shops. The supermarket was busy and she threw croissants and baby tomatoes, mushrooms, bacon bits and grated cheese into her basket, chose two coffee slices and two cream doughnuts from a selection of luscious-looking cream buns, grabbed a newspaper from the stand and stood in the queue thinking how lucky she was to be so near to shops, pharmacies and a DART station.
She and Niall had bought their cottage when house prices were low, just before they got married, and had extended and renovated it over the years. Now, in this first year of the nineties, house prices were rising and houses in their area were much sought after. It might not be a posh pad near Kensington, she reflected, placing her groceries on the belt, but it had been a good buy and it suited them down to the ground, despite Colette’s pronouncements that Hilary and Niall should ‘relocate and upsize to somewhere – ‘a little more upmarket – like Howth, Sutton or the seafront’.
Hilary liked where they lived. There was a good mix of young families, single professionals and older people who had lived in the area all their lives. She particularly loved the fact that because there were so many cottages they weren’t overlooked. And, unlike Colette and Des, they at least had their own garden, and a big, well-laid-out private back garden at that, Hilary reflected, stuffing her purchases into plastic bags and handing the cashier a twenty. Colette and Des had no front garden to speak of and shared a very overlooked communal garden at the rear of the Holland Park mansion. Hilary loved her privacy and wouldn’t swap with Colette for anything, and had no intention of going more ‘upmarket’, thank you very much, she reflected, thinking how even more snobby her friend had become over the years.
The sun was warm on her face, dappling through the bursting, blossoming emerald foliage of the trees, and children played on the green, laughing and squealing as they raced around in the fresh air.
She glanced down the street when she got to her own small cul-de-sac and saw no sign of a car parked behind hers in the drive. She’d have time to set the table outside and start their brunch before Jonathan arrived.
She unpacked the shopping and made herself a cup of tea to keep her going, wondering what on earth was wrong with him. He was clearly very upset by something. At least he felt he could come and talk to her, even this early in their friendship. She stood at the cooker, inhaling the mouthwatering aromas as she fried off the bacon bits and mushrooms and filled the croissants with them, before adding the sliced baby tomatoes and cheese and wrapping them in tin foil. She slid them into the preheated oven. They wouldn’t take long to cook.
Was it boyfriend trouble? Or was it because of his homophobic boss? Jonathan had told Hilary of his encounter with his horrible manager and how upsetting it had been. It must be so difficult being gay and suffering snide comments and abuse from intolerant, unkind, uncharitable people, in every strata of society. She’d never given the topic much thought but if any of her children or her nieces or nephews were gay and were treated badly when they were older she’d be horrified. Life was hard enough without being judged because of sexual orientation, which was a personal matter as far as Hilary was concerned. Love was precious and if you loved someone and they loved you back how lucky were you in a world that was often hard to live in.
Hilary brewed a pot of fresh coffee, enjoying the welcoming smells wafting around the kitchen, and was setting place mats and cutlery on the patio table when the doorbell rang. Jonathan, pale and miserable, stood on the step, shoulders drooping, eyes red-rimmed. A far different Jonathan from the funny, vibrant, eager and enthusiastic young man of the day before. Her heart went out to him and it was the most natural thing in the world for her to open her arms and give him a comforting hug. ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked, leading the way into the kitchen.
‘Oh Hilary, my life is a mess.’ He shook his head. ‘Something happened to me when I was a child. I thought I had managed to put it behind me but something’s come up and I feel I’m right back
