A Time for Friends (6 page)

He would make an appointment to see her soon and speak to her of today’s events. It would be interesting to see if this bully would continue his bullying, Jonathan mused as he moseyed into
the small kitchenette and took the bottle of Chardonnay from the fridge. Gerard Hook was a typical playground bully. Jonathan had fought them many times before, often coming home with a black eye
or a bloodied nose, much to his mother’s dismay. Although she never brought up the subject, Jonathan knew that his mother knew and accepted that he was gay. It was a comfort to him that the
subject had never come up for discussion. It was no big deal, as it should not be. He was Jonathan, her son, and that was all that mattered. He wondered would the day ever come when he would be
accepted in society for who he was as a person, irrespective of his sexuality.

He poured himself a glass of wine and took a big notebook from his work shelf. He flicked through his notes on colour temperature and colour rendering and how important they were for commercial
lighting. Office lighting was generally low-energy fluorescent in cool white. He hated the white strip lights in the office with a vengeance, with their irritating hum and constant flicker. He was
more interested in domestic lighting, and especially how lamps, uplighters and downlighters could create a warm and cosy ambience. He always felt he’d achieved something when he persuaded his
growing list of clients to change from harsh central lighting to diffused glows around the room. If only he could make a career out of his interior design business. It was his dearest wish and his
greatest goal. That and resigning from his permanent and pensionable job and telling Gerard Hook he could get stuffed!

Hilary stood outside the city centre hotel suite where the lighting design course was being held, rooting frantically in her bag for her registration document. She was sure she
had put it in with a shopping list and two bills she had written cheques for that needed posting.

The door to the small foyer burst open and a tall, lanky man with a mop of blond hair flopping into his eyes, and carrying a large pink folder under his arm and wearing the pointiest shoes she
had ever seen, hurried towards her, panting. Hilary paused from her rooting and grinned in spite of herself. Someone else late too, she thought with relief, glad she wouldn’t have to slink in
bashfully alone.

‘Hi, is this where the lighting design course is? Are you doing it too?’ He sounded breathless but he managed a smile.

‘Yes, if I can find my registration letter.’ Hilary resumed her rooting.

‘You remind me of my sister, she carries a sack too,’ he said, eyeing her large tote bag. ‘We’ll go in together, it’s probably started. It’s a quarter to ten
and it was starting at 9.30 sharp! As it said in the letter. I’m Jonathan. Jonathan Harpur.’

‘Oh! I’m Hilary Hammond’ she responded, thoroughly irritated with herself and wondering if in fact she’d put the letter and bills in the dashboard of her car which was
parked a good ten minutes’ walk away.

‘Right, deep breath then,’ the man said, inhaling loudly before wincing.

‘What’s wrong?’ Hilary asked.

‘I drank a bottle of Chardonnay on an empty stomach, and feel a tad iffy,’ he murmured, opening the large green door.

A group of around thirty people sat taking notes from the diminutive, bespectacled lecturer, who was pointing to an image on a large screen of a shop-floor display of fabrics, and talking about
something called metal halide lighting. Hilary knew that shop or store lighting was completely different from domestic, especially where fabrics were concerned, and a light as close as possible to
natural light was needed. Hopefully this was the point being made and they hadn’t missed too much of the lecture and would be able to grasp what was being taught, fairly quickly.

All the seats at the back were taken and Hilary glanced at her companion, who grimaced and began to edge along the side. ‘There’s seats at the front, hurry along, please, we have a
lot to cover,’ the man said impatiently as everyone turned to look at them. Mortified, Hilary scuttled behind her new acquaintance who nonchalantly flicked his purple scarf over his shoulder
as he strode along ahead of her. There were four empty seats in the middle of the front row and he sat on one of them and she sat down beside him and took out a large notebook from her tote, and
then realized with a sinking heart that she had to go rooting for a pen. She scrabbled desperately in the depths of her bag as the lecturer eyed her irritably.

‘Err . . . em . . . my pen,’ she said weakly, catching her companion’s amused gaze.

‘I’ve two, take one,’ Jonathan murmured, handing her a blue biro. ‘Mary Poppins has nothing on you,’ he added
sotto voce
as he clipped some pages to a
clipboard and, pen poised, gazed expectantly at the lecturer.

Hilary giggled, earning another irate frown from the lecturer, before she lowered her head and opened her notebook as he began to discuss new developments in lighting technology.

‘I’m more interested in domestic lighting, to be honest. Fitting out a store or display premises wouldn’t be my cup of tea,’ Jonathan confided as they sipped coffee and
nibbled on dry pink wafer biscuits a couple of hours later at the coffee break.

‘Umm, we do all types of lighting in my job, domestic and commercial. My dad has a lighting business and showrooms; I run it for him,’ Hilary told him, trying not to gobble her
biscuit. She was starving, having only had time for a half-slice of toast that Millie hadn’t eaten. The girls were having a sleepover at her sister’s and she’d had to pack
overnight bags, as well as getting them ready for school.

‘Really? Do you give discounts to friends?’ Jonathan enquired. ‘I have a new interior design commission. I need lights and lamps and shades and now I’m your
friend.’ He grinned at her and she laughed.

‘I’m sure we could do business, Mr Harpur.’

‘Excellent, Ms Hammond! Here’s to a long and fruitful friendship.’ He clinked his coffee cup against hers and winked. ‘Look at the Mona Lisa over there, casting sultry
glances at the guy in the brown cords. She’s wasting her time. He plays on my team.’

‘Gay?’ Hilary arched an eyebrow.

‘For sure. I should go over and flirt with him myself.’

‘How do you know?’ Hilary asked. ‘He looks . . . er . . . em . . .’ She was going to say butch but stopped in case she implied that Jonathan wasn’t. The minute
she’d seen Jonathan’s shoes, and the scarf draped artistically around his neck, she’d known that he was gay.

‘You
always
know who plays on your team,’ Jonathan assured her confidently. ‘He’s been eyeing me up all morning so Mona Lisa is barking up the wrong tree
there,’ Jonathan smirked.

Hilary laughed. Mona Lisa was a spot-on description of the slightly round-faced, dark-haired girl with the protruding eyes, who had introduced herself as Jacintha and informed them, as Jonathan
politely handed her a cup of coffee, that she was an architect with a ‘cutting edge’ firm in Merrion Square. She believed in using the medium of architecture in a
‘sculptural’ way, she informed Hilary and Jonathan, who listened politely, as she earnestly declared that a lighting design course would add to the services she could offer to clients.
She had looked down her superior little nose when Jonathan told her that he worked in the Civil Service. ‘So you haven’t been to uni full-time then? Just courses here and there?’
Jacintha sniffed.

‘I’ve been to the University of Life, and how,’ Jonathan drawled with a theatrical sigh.

‘And what do you do?’ Jacintha had turned to Hilary who had been about to say that she worked in her dad’s business when Jonathan cut in.

‘Can you believe it, Jacintha? Hilary is the MD of her
own
lighting and electrical business, as well as a mother of two! This lady is a DY NA MO!’

‘Oh! Right,’ Jacintha said, casting a supercilious glance over Hilary who was wearing black trousers, black espadrilles and a white broderie anglaise top. Jacintha was dressed in a
sharp, tailored grey trouser suit, worn with a red-silk cami that was stretched tightly across her bountiful bosom. She tottered on her skyscraper heels and carried a YSL briefcase.

‘I suppose you have to keep up to date?’ she observed, glancing around the room to see who else she might be interested in talking to.

‘Indeed,’ murmured Hilary, who was finding it hard to keep her face straight as Jonathan was standing slightly behind Jacintha and flaring his nostrils and arching his eyebrows.

‘Are you into er . . . interior design too?’ Jacintha sounded bored and was clearly making polite conversation.

‘Of course,’ Hilary shrugged. ‘It’s intrinsic to my business; good lighting can only complement and add an extra dimension to any room.’

‘But with interior design you either have it or you don’t, it’s innate, unlike architecture which can be learned. Don’t you agree?’ Jonathan interjected smoothly,
turning to Hilary.

‘Absolutely.’ She nodded emphatically. ‘You
have
to have a flair for sure.’ Hilary only said that because she thought the other girl was so smug and dismissive.
She had never given the matter much thought.

‘I don’t actually agree with you on that point. Enjoy your coffee,’ Moon Face had retorted before drifting off to try her luck with Mr Brown Cords.

‘I’m devastated!’ Jonathan murmured and Hilary giggled. Her companion was great fun and really adding to her enjoyment of the course. ‘Very patronizing, wasn’t she?
She nearly fell off her high heels when I said you were an MD.’ Jonathan grinned.

‘You weren’t letting her get away with anything. She’s so up her own posterior.’ Hilary eyed the last biscuit on the plate longingly.

‘Some people bring out the worst in me,’ Jonathan confessed, taking a gulp of coffee. ‘I must warn you, if we are going to be buddies, that I have a terrific inner
bitch.’

‘Oh me too,’ Hilary grinned. ‘And she could probably out-bitch yours.’

‘Excellent!’ Jonathan approved. ‘I think we are going to get on like a house on fire. Now eat that last biscuit, you look as if you are in need of vittles, and then I really
must go to Louisiana before we start back.’

‘Me too, I shouldn’t have drunk that second cup of coffee,’ Hilary said as they made their way to the restrooms.

She touched up her make-up and brushed her hair. She was glad she’d come to the course. It was vital to keep up to date with developments and new lighting designs, but today didn’t
seem like work with Jonathan sitting beside her, whispering witty asides.

She felt she’d known Jonathan Harpur all her life. She felt completely comfortable with him and he seemed very relaxed with her. Easy! That’s what they were . . . easy together. A
most unexpected bonus on this lovely sunny Friday, away from the business, and home, and all their demands.

‘Do you know what would be great?’ Jonathan said as he wolfed down a steaming bowl of Irish stew, while Hilary made short work of a succulent lamb shank. They were having lunch in a
pub on the quays not far from the hotel.

‘What would be great?’ she asked, mopping up some gravy with a piece of bread.

‘We could go to some of those lighting fairs together. Did you see the timetable of fairs Mr Personality gave us? Frankfurt, Belgrade, Moscow, Stockholm. Helsinki. The world is our oyster,
missus.’

‘I have a husband and two children,’ she reminded him.

‘A minor detail, my dear!’ Jonathan said airily, giving a discreet burp. ‘Sorry,’ he apologized. ‘I just feel so comfortable with you. I forgot we’ve only
just been introduced.’

‘Weird, isn’t it? I feel as if I’ve known you forever.’ Hilary replenished their water from the jug with the mint and lemon floating prettily in the middle, thinking that
the colours would be a good match.

‘Funny, I think that too. We’re going to be great friends, you and me.’ He smiled at her. ‘And now I have somewhere new to source my lighting requirements, with the
discount of course,’ he teased. ‘Seriously though, I can’t wait to see your showrooms.’

‘If you’ve nothing on this evening, you could come and have a look,’ Hilary said impulsively. ‘My children are having a sleepover at my sister’s and my husband is
abroad working for a few days. I had planned to catch up on housework. I’ve nothing else on. I could rustle us up something for dinner.’

‘Forget about rustling up, we can order in, Chinese, Indian, I’m all for the easy life. What do you want to go cooking for when you don’t have to?’ Jonathan remarked.
‘And we could polish off a bottle of vino if you cared to.’

‘I’m liking you even better!’ Hilary grinned. ‘But if you shift Mr Brown Cords in the meantime, I’ll understand,’ she joked.

‘Now that is what I call a
true
gurlfriend,’ Jonathan laughed. ‘I just need to ring my other gurlfriend, Orla, and make sure she’s OK. She lives in the flat
above me and has been dumped by a Kerry man and is in the horrors as well as having bad lady pains. I don’t want to drop her like a hot potato. Wouldn’t be fair. And besides she’d
have my guts for garters and make my life a misery. You order the coffee while I go and give her a bell.’

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.