She made the phone call with her back to Kimberley, who noted how Hilary's posture became increasingly agitated, her hand on her hip, her foot tapping nervously away. She appeared to be put on hold on more than one occasion before being forced to reiterate her story in a way that suggested she was slowly progressing up a hierarchy of industry workers.
Only once did she turn her head completely back to Kimberley, who by now had retrieved a compact and was dabbing at her mascara streaked cheeks with the edge of a tissue.
Her eyes narrowed at something the mysterious caller the other end had said and she cupped her hand to the mouthpiece conspiratorially before turning and walking away.
When at last she returned there was an almost imperceptible shift in the atmosphere. Kimberley didn't know why, but suddenly, despite the damp hot air, she felt a shiver dance up her spine.
Hilary struck a more business-like repose in her swivelling chair, careful hands folded underneath her chin, elbows aligned equidistant from the open diary.
"Does this have anything to do with Cheryl?"
Kimberley couldn't be sure of her composure then, of the half-whispered untruths ready to slip from her parted lips as the desire to just lay her soul bare and be done with it threatened to overshadow everything.
Instead she shook her head, eyebrows frowning, "What? No. What do you mean?"
And there was hesitancy and Hilary caught it. Because you didn't get to her age without knowing a few things about how women operated. And she knew her girls well. Too well.
"I mean," and she was careful and precise and didn't want to tip Kimberley into breaking because she was the backbone and without Kimberley, Hilary wasn't sure if she'd have a pay cheque. "Cheryl leaves Ashley... and now you're... reconsidering your relationship. Are the two connected?"
Kimberley swallowed hard, her throat felt like sandpaper and her migraine was back with a vengeance.
"I'm not sure I know what you're getting at."
Hilary decided to just lay her cards on the table, hoping Kimberley would do the same, needing her to if she had any chance of getting to grips with this mess.
"You two have always been close. Is she the reason behind this?"
It was the bluntness that did it. She buried her face in her hands, closed her eyes and slowly raised her head again, the tremor in her whisper, "Oh God."
Hilary chewed the end of her pen and waited.
"Oh God," Kimberley repeated, blinking hard and looking away again.
She continued to exhale and shake her head and mutter half-formed explanations which didn't get anywhere beyond "I didn't mean to..." and "She doesn't know..."
Hilary waited for the scene to play out, her countenance remaining cool and open, but inwardly she knew the crisis had just intensified. Women were never easy, she reasoned. And they'd been pretty lucky for the last seven years, really. Maybe now was the time to start thinking about that desk job instead of traipsing after twentysomethings all the time.
She squeezed Kimberley's hand and told her it would be all right, which they both knew was a lie, but the kind that needed to be expressed for both their sakes.
When at last Hilary returned to her phone and the list of people she would have to re-inform Kimberley began to panic.
"It does change things a bit," she explained with a rueful smile. "We might be able to buy some time with OK, tell them you're sick or something."
"Who are you calling?"
"Sundraj-"
"Don't tell him! Not about..." and as she trailed off there began a deep hammering within her, a warning bell that she had just set into motion a train of events that was likely to careen it's reckless way through the debris of all their careers.
If, that is, she didn't keep her grip, hold her nerve. If she didn't do as she was told.
She waved her hand dismissively, it was already too late.
