‘Any chance of a cuppa while you’re at it?’ Niall tried his luck.
‘Every chance and I’ll have a grilled rasher sandwich while you’re at it,’ Hilary retorted, tying the belt of her dressing gown around her as Sophie’s yells reached a deafening crescendo.
‘I’m coming, stop panicking,’ she called exasperatedly, hurrying down the stairs to deal with the cat, the fur ball and her two hungry daughters.
An hour later as they all sat finishing their brunch, the phone rang and Sophie answered. ‘Hi, Auntie Colette, I’ll get Mam for you,’ she said cheerfully. Hilary went out to the kitchen and tucked the extension line under her ear.
‘Hi, Colette,’ she said, setting about filling the dishwasher with the dishes her daughters had carried to the sink.
‘Hi, Hil, I was just wondering, Des is going to have to fly out ten days before we’d planned because something’s come up Stateside and I’m dreading leaving on my own . . . is there any way you could come over for my last couple of days in London? It’s the last time we’ll see each other for ages!’
‘Gosh, Colette, I don’t know if that’s on the cards. Niall is up to his eyes, and we’re fairly busy at work too,’ Hilary exclaimed, thinking how typical of Colette to think that Hilary could just drop everything and fly to London for a few days.
‘Aww, I feel very sad and unsettled. It’s such a huge step moving to the States and I’d really appreciate your support,’ Colette said despondently.
‘But you’ve plenty of friends in London,’ Hilary pointed out.
‘Oh they’re all working or vacationing and besides you’re the only one who knows what I’m like when I get into a tizzy!’
‘Look, we’ll talk about it at the wedding, OK?’ Hilary suggested.
‘Thanks, Hil, I think we’re sitting at the same table. I did ask Rowena to put us at the Fitzwilliams’ table, because Shay and Des have a lot in common and they get on well and we have mutual friends in London but she said her mother was doing the table plans and she wanted the Fitzwilliams at Kenneth Reilly’s table. Honestly, Rowena should have some say!’ groused Colette petulantly.
‘Right!’ Hilary said drily. Typical of Colette that she didn’t even know how insulting she sounded, implying that sitting with Hilary and Niall was less than desired. Shay Fitzwilliam was a high-powered banker, jet-setter and go-getter, and it would be right up Des’s alley to schmooze with him at Rowena’s wedding.
‘And seemingly Eric Dunne’s ex-wife is kicking up a right royal row because he’s bringing that tarty blonde PR one he’s hanging around with, as his plus one!’ Colette prattled on, oblivious.
‘Fireworks so.’ Hilary filled the knife and fork container. ‘Poor Rowena. Listen, I have to go, we’ll see you at the church on Saturday, OK?’
‘Great, and think about what I said, we could have a lovely few girly days,’ Colette chirruped.
‘Will do,’ Hilary replied, wondering what her friend would say if she said ask Shay Fitzwilliam’s wife to come over to London and cry on her shoulder. She hung up, annoyed. Colette was always the same. Me, me, me. Hilary decided not to tell Niall about the conversation or let him know they were seated at the same table. He put up with Colette out of loyalty to Hilary but he had no time for Des. ‘A self-important spoofer,’ he’d called him after their first encounter. Nothing over the years had helped change his opinion. Listening to Des bragging about the promotion in the States, as he undoubtedly would, would do Niall’s head in. And then he’d get grouchy. Perhaps her husband’s suggestion that she ask Jonathan to accompany her wasn’t such a bad idea after all. What was it about weddings? They could be such ordeals. And somehow Hilary had the feeling that Rowena and Pete’s wedding wasn’t going to be the best wedding she was ever at.
C
HAPTER
F
IFTEEN
‘Now there’s macaroni cheese, chicken casserole and some goodies in the fridge. And the phone number of the hotel is by the phone in the hall if you need it. Don’t let the girls stay up too late and—’
‘Mam, Auntie Colette is on the phone for you.’ Sophie bounced into the sitting room where Hilary was giving last-minute instructions to Carla, their babysitter.
‘Sorry, Carla, excuse me for a minute.’ Hilary went out to the hall and took the receiver from her daughter. ‘Hi, we’re just getting ready to leave and—’
‘Hilary, I have a HUGE favour to ask,’ Colette interrupted.
‘What’s that?’ Hilary asked warily.
‘Elisabetta, Jazzy’s nanny, had a tummy bug and couldn’t travel – could Jazzy please stay with your two? I’ll give the babysitter the extra cost for minding her. I’m really stuck. Mum tried a few of her friends’ daughters but they were all doing something. I suppose it was short notice.’ Colette sighed theatrically.
‘Umm well, I’d better check it with Carla, she’s the one who’s babysitting,’ Hilary replied, nonplussed.
‘Oh she won’t mind, I’m sure. A few extra quid will go down a treat,’ Colette said airily.
‘Let me check it out with her,’ Hilary said firmly. Trust Colette to have a drama at the last minute. She walked back into the sitting room where Carla was French-plaiting Millie’s hair. ‘Listen, Carla, and feel free to say no if you want to, my friend Colette is on the phone. Her little girl’s nanny couldn’t travel from the UK with them and she has no one to mind Jasmine and she was wondering if you would look after her too. She’d pay you extra, needless to say.’
‘Aw Mam, nooo! Not Jazzy, she’ll ruin everything. She’ll want to play her games her way and she’s just too bossy,’ Sophie protested vehemently.
‘Now don’t be like that, Sophie. Jasmine’s younger than you and she’s an
