As Jess hopped from foot to foot in the Arrivals hall waiting for her to clear Irish Customs, she let her mind drift back over the last couple of days.
Owen had stayed that night and they’d only dragged themselves out of bed to order pizza. When it arrived, they’d taken the box straight back to bed with them. Propped up on pillows, feeding each other slices, they’d marvelled over the fact, like new lovers do, that pepperoni supreme was both their favourite. What other things would they find out they had in common over the course of time? The sense of a new beginning was tangible and it had been heavenly. The being with Owen, not the pizza obviously, Jess reiterated to herself. Although now, as her tummy grumbled at having been given no dinner, the pizza took on a divine status too.
Wrapping her arms around her stomach in an effort to shut it up, she remembered with a frisson of excitement how they’d made love again. “We need to work off all those cheesy calories.” She’d laughed, nuzzling into his neck. Despite the need to burn off the carbs, it had been slower this time. The urgency of before was in the past and they took the time to explore each other’s body.
Afterwards, as they’d talked into the small hours, Jess had taken a deep breath and come clean about her mother’s impending visit. “I love her but honestly if she’d had her way, I would have had an arranged marriage years ago to a lawyer or a doctor even an accountant so long as he was a chartered one.”
Owen listened to her with an amused expression as his fingertips played an imaginary tune on her shoulder.
For her part, Jess realised how she must sound. “I’m sorry, Owen. I shouldn’t moan to you of all people about her but I’m dreading Tuesday, I really am.”
Owen would have none of it, though. “Ah, she can’t be as bad as all that? Not if she made you.” He smoothed her hair away before kissing her on her forehead. “When will I meet her?”
“You don’t want to meet her; she’s a right old snob.” Jess shook her head. The prospect of her mother and Owen in the same room together filled her with alarm. The feelings she had for him were far too new and precious to let her mother stomp all over them with a few thoughtless remarks.
“Aye, I do; she’s your Mammy, and I want to prove my intentions toward her eldest daughter are honourable. I can turn the charm on when I need to, you know.”
Jess raised an eyebrow. “You—charming? Not an analogy I’d have used.”
“I said when I need to.” His face was illuminated by the hall light shining into the room as he grinned down at her. “You’re not planning on hiding her away from me, are you?”
The thought had crossed her mind, yes, but she could see the question behind his eyes.
“It’s nothing to do with you. It’s Mum—the way she is—but you’re not going to take my word for it, are you?” How could she explain to him that the whole reason her mother was hot-footing it over to Dublin was to try to steer her away from him and in the direction of the dodgy developer with distemper? Okay, so she hadn’t told her what had happened with Nick yet but even if she did, it would make no difference. She was coming to Dublin and there was no way she would ever warm to the idea of her daughter hooking up with a pig farmer with, as she saw it, a “past.”
“No, I’m not, so how about you bring her up to the farm on Saturday? She can meet Wilbur. If I don’t win her over then, he will if she’s anything like her daughter.”
The idea filled Jess with horror and as Owen carried on, the horror deepened.
“You could stay the night or just come for the day? It’s up to you.” He winked at her then. “Of course, if you stay the night then I’ll get to have my wicked way with you again.”
Jess looked at Owen, aghast. She didn’t know which idea was worse: that of her mother staying on a pig farm or actually having sex while her mother was in the same house? Either scenario was a complete nightmare but she couldn’t see a way out of it without hurting Owen’s feelings. That was something she wasn’t prepared to do for anyone and especially not for her mother. Besides, the thought of not seeing him for a whole fortnight while she played hostess with the mostest was unthinkable. Nope, there was nothing for it; she’d just have to buy her mother a set of wellies and tell her to soldier on.
The plan began to form. She’d ask Brianna nicely if she could borrow her car again—that way they could just go up for the day. Mum might just be able to behave herself for six hours but throw in a night as well? Jess shuddered; she knew that would just be asking for trouble. Who knew, though? If the opportunity presented itself, she might get to whisk Owen away for some alone time in the barn. Wilbur’s sweet little face flitted to mind—he’d just have to shut his eyes and cover his ears.
They’d drifted off to sleep not long after that conversation and the next morning Jess had spooned into his warm and solid body, revelling in the fact that he was there and not part of a dream from which she would wake. The discarded pizza box on the floor further cemented the reality of the previous evening, as did the odour it was emitting. Owen was still out for the count, so she’d taken advantage by sitting up and watching him while he slept. God, he was beautiful; her eyes drifted over his broad strong features, his wide mouth. She giggled as he let out a little snore, waking him up, and he’d opened his eyes. As his gaze focused, he smiled lazily before grabbing her.
“What’s so funny?”
“You—you were snoring.”
“I don’t snore.”
“Oh yes you do.”
He’d silenced the argument with a kiss and then their day had started off with a bang, literally. After showering and a quick breakfast, Owen announced reluctantly that he had to get back to Glenariff for the animals. Jess didn’t want him to go but she didn’t want him leaving Wilbur unattended either. It was probably a good thing, she mused, watching him tie his boots. She really did have to get this week’s column written because she was going to be busy with her mother from Tuesday night onwards.
Wrapping her in a big hug and kissing the top of her head, Owen promised to ring her that evening. Neither of them knew what the next step for them would be. It was something they were going to have to wing as Ballymcguinness was not just around the corner. Nor was there any chance of Owen upping sticks and moving to Dublin, but she was getting ahead of herself as usual, Jess had told herself. She had to get through this Saturday with her mother first.
Her apartment had felt bereft without Owen’s big presence filling it and she’d drifted around aimlessly, trying to settle down to do some work but ultimately when Brianna phoned, she was grateful for the distraction.
She was abuzz with the news that Bray Council, over the course of the weekend, had come around to her way of thinking. They’d pulled out of the deal Nick had been trying to negotiate. His company was not going to be allowed to proceed with any development on the site. The sale was null and void, and Brianna was over the moon. “It’s karma for how he treated you the other night,” she’d stated gleefully. “See, Jess, I might not know shite about shite but I do know right from wrong!”
“Have you been watching Erin Brockovich again?” It was Brianna’s all-time favourite film.
“Yeah, that movie always makes me feel so empowered and that is exactly how I feel at the moment—like I took on the big boys and I won.”
“That’s exactly what you did do and I for one am very proud of you for holding firm to what you believe. Well done, Brie.”
“Thanks.” Her jubilance disappeared. “Hey, Jess, there’s no hard feelings, I hope, where Nick is concerned, is there? You did mean what you said yesterday, didn’t you?”
“I meant every word and I am glad he is not getting his own way. You were right about communities needing a place where people can go to get together. That’s not something Nick can relate to; his world is ruled by the almighty dollar, not people.”
“Euro actually.”
“Euro, pound, punt—whatever! Anyway, enough about him. Owen stayed last night.”
Brianna shrieked
down the phone. “Oh my God, you didn’t waste any time. I thought it was coffee he was coming over for, not sex? Details, please!”
Nora had rung on her lunch break and between stuffing down a sandwich—the Dukan diet was a distant memory—she, too, demanded the details. “I have to live vicariously through your sex life until Ewan gets back on Monday, so come on, spill!”
She listened to her friend gush and in her guilt for pushing Jess toward Nick, she resolved to be open-minded where Owen was concerned. He might be a pig farmer from Northern Ireland with a family tragedy lurking in his past but on this occasion she was prepared to trust Jess’s judgement and give him the benefit of the doubt. “You know, from what you have just told me, I think that this is one man who you might just have helped heal.”
“He said he feels like he can put the past where it belongs now—in the past. I just hope Mum’s prepared to be as magnanimous as you because he has invited us to the farm on Saturday.”
“Wow! He does mean business. Your mam will be impressed by that; I mean, he’s obviously serious.”
“Yeah, seriously mad inviting her up. He has no idea what he’s in for.”
“Give your mam a bit of credit. I am sure that once she meets him, she will see exactly what you see in him.”
“You reckon? I think all she will see is a pig farmer with a thick accent.”
Nora tried to cover her laugh and it came out as a snort. “Sorry, it’s just that it is not the most salubrious of job titles.” Her tone grew sage. “Like I just said, Jess, I reckon it’s time you cut your mammy a bit of slack.”
“You are forgetting I know her—you don’t.”
“Fair play to you, I suppose.”
They’d changed the subject then, with Nora informing her that Ewan had been really pissed about Nick’s behaviour and wouldn’t be hanging out with him again anytime soon. “He reckoned Nick just liked being seen out with him because it was good for his public profile—a spot of free publicity, so to speak. In Ewan’s line of business, you learn fast who your real friends are.”
“Yes, I suppose you do.”
Owen kept his word, ringing just after nine that evening. Her mother had been banished from her brain as she had lost herself in his sing-song accent while he gave her Wilbur’s health report before filling her in on his day.
Jess blinked, coming back to the present as the doors in front of her finally slid open to disperse the first load of weary travellers. They trickled forth in a steady flow and she scanned their crumpled faces one after the other in anticipation of the familiar one she was expecting. As they came and went with no sign of her mother, she experienced a twinge of anxiety. Where was she? If she hadn’t seen the Cheap-Cheap plane land with her own two eyes, she might have fretted that its engines had given up the ghost somewhere over the Atlantic. But it had landed, which could only mean her mother had been delayed by Customs.
Oh no! Surely Mum wouldn’t have attempted to smuggle in her homemade Yo-Yo biscuits, knowing they were her favourites? She wouldn’t put it past her to try. Jess chewed on her thumbnail, unsure of what to do next.
As she began envisaging the wrestling match between her mother and a surly customs officer over a tin of biscuits, the doors opened once more and released a frazzled and none-too-happy-looking passenger—Marian Baré.
“Mum!” Jess stepped forward to greet her, taking in her dishevelled appearance as she did so with shock. Her normally coiffed auburn curls were limp and hung in straggles around her face. Her makeup was non-existent, aside from the black smudges under her eyes, giving her face a zombie-like quality, and her clothes, which would have been immaculate when she left Auckland two days ago, were now stained and crushed. Something was missing, too, she thought as Marian sagged into her arms. Taking a step back from the embrace and holding her at arm’s length to steady her, Jess realised what was wrong. She had no bags with her.
Chapter Eighteen
“Where’s your luggage, Mum?”
“My suitcase is in Taiwan. That means I have no clothes, no makeup, and no hair rollers!”
The latter, Jessica knew, for her mother was a true tragedy indeed to have to bear.
“Calm down, Mum; we’ll sort it out. They do have shops in Dublin, so if your case isn’t here by tomorrow, I’ll pop out and get you a few necessities. In the meantime, you can borrow anything you need from me. I don’t understand, though; what the hell is your luggage doing in Taiwan?”
“They forgot to load it on the bloody plane, didn’t they, but I have given the airline your address and been assured it will be couriered there by tomorrow afternoon at the latest. I blame your father, Jessica. If it wasn’t for his insisting I fly budget now that I am officially retired and we are a one-income family… It’s all part of his new belt-tightening regime. I have a good mind to phone him when we get back to your place to tell him that unless he books me a return flight with Air New Zealand, I am not coming home. I refuse to put myself through that…that journey from hell again!”
Jess’s eyes widened. If it came to that, she’d bloody well foot the bill for the new booking.
“It’s true, you know, that saying that you get what you pay for. In the last forty-eight hours, I have been to Taiwan, Bangladesh, and touched down in most of the states belonging to the former USSR. I have had a small child throw up in my lap, and I have sat next to a woman for the last ten hours of my journey with Tourette’s syndrome and a fear of flying—can you imagine?”
Jess burst out laughing at the picture her mother had just painted.
Marian looked aghast. “It’s not funny, Jessica. We didn’t even get any in-flight perks. Not so much as a cup of coffee.” She stared hard at her daughter and then her own mouth twitched and she, too, had to laugh.
“Come on, Mum—put it behind you. You’re here now, so let’s get you home for a cup of tea and a hot shower. You look like you could do with one.” She started laughing again and then, linking her arm through her mother’s, she led her outside of the terminal building to the waiting taxi rank. Perhaps the next fortnight mightn’t be so bad after all.
“Welcome to Ireland, Mum.”
True to her word, the first thing Marian had done upon stepping inside Jess’s apartment was insist on phoning Frank. Once she’d made her call, she had found herself being herded off to the shower and now freshly scrubbed and smelling sweet, she lay prone on the couch, waiting for Jessica to finish making her a cuppa.
“I appreciate the loan, darling, but these pyjama bottoms are too tight.”
“You’ll be fine, Mum; just don’t bend over.” Jess handed her a steaming mug. “It’s hot, so be careful. Do you feel better after giving Dad what-for and having had a hot shower?”
“Hmm, yes, thanks. Both were very cathartic.” She blew on her tea and then took a tentative sip before resting her head back on the settee. “I must say, you have this place looking lovely. It’s a proper home. Well done, sweetheart.”
Jess stood a little taller; she was pleased. She hadn’t been sure what her mother would make of apartment living but then she went and spoilt it.
“Yes, I can definitely see the benefits of living in a complex like this when you’re single. Much more secure but of course it would be no good for a family.”
Right, Jess thought; it was time to burst her mother’s bubble. “Actually, Mum there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Oh my God, you’re not pregnant, are you?”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake!”
“Sorry, dear, it’s just a conclusion most mothers jump to when their daughters utter those words.”
“Well, I am not pregnant. What it is…is that well, what’s happened is…”
“Spit it out, Jessica.”
“I won’t be seeing Nick anymore.” The relief coursed through her. There, she’d told her; it was out in the open now.
“Oh.” Marian sipped at her tea, not glancing up to meet Jess’s eye.
“Is that all you’
re going to say?” Surely it couldn’t be that easy, Jess thought dumbfounded.
“No, darling, it most definitely is not all I am going to say but I just need a moment.”
Later that night, as she lay in bed with her mother sleeping the deep sleep of the jet-lagged next door, Jess processed her reaction to the news that Nick was no more. To be fair, once she had finished crying into her cuppa, she had calmed down sufficiently to listen to Jess’s explanation as to what had gone wrong in the short space of time since their last phone call.
Marian had switched pretty smartly from sorrow at the loss of a potentially suitable son-in-law to anger as Jess relayed the way in which he had treated her. She, too, had been keen to join Nora in a Lorena Bobbitt styled hit but Jess had assured her there was no need. He was history, she informed her. “I’ve moved on, Mum.” That was when she told her about Owen, injecting a tally-ho kind of joviality into her tone. “You’ll get to meet him on Saturday. We are going up to the farm for the day.”
“Jessica, Jessica, Jessica.” Marian had shaken her head sadly. “What happened to this Owen’s sister was tragic but it’s his tragedy, sweetheart; don’t go making it yours, too. I can see how you could have got swept up by it all but we have been down this road so many times, my girl. When will you ever learn? You can’t fix people; they have to want to heal themselves.”
Her remarks sent up a flare of irritation. “You’ve only been here an hour, Mum, please don’t start going on about the whole wounded bird thing. I had an idea to write a story around a name in a second-hand book and that story happened to be a sad one but it is his sister’s story, not Owen’s. I don’t need to fix him because he isn’t broken, so please don’t prejudge him on something that happened in his life that he had no control over. That wouldn’t be fair.”
Second Hand Jane Page 26