Second Hand Jane (33 page)

The next day
being Sunday, Nora telephoned Brianna to fill her in on what had
happened. Then after a spot of name dropping, she managed to get
them a lunchtime seating at Peploes, the popular wine bar on St
Stephens on the Green.

“A long lazy
liquid lunch is just what you need,” she insisted, marching Jess
off to her room, ignoring her protests about not being hungry as
she told her to get dressed. “Rug up, though; it looks pretty fresh
outside.”

Stepping onto
the pavement outside Riverside Apartments, the two women were hit
by an arctic blast and Jess was glad she had taken Nora’s advice
and dressed warmly. Tucking her hands into the sleeves of her coat,
she picked up Nora’s brisk pace, the cold air clearing her head as
they marched down the Quays.

They arrived at
the oh-so classy eatery opposite the Green bang-on mid-day.
Brianna, eager for the unexpected time out from family life, was
already there waiting with a glass in hand at the bar. As the
threesome were greeted and led over to their sumptuously laid
table, Jess decided Nora had been right. This was just what she
needed and after glancing at the menu, she decided she was starving
after all. She would have to splurge on a starter and a main, oh
and quite possibly dessert, too! It all sounded just too
delicious.

Over wine and
an entrée of Brie aux Filo, Jess apologised to Brianna.

“I’m sorry for
putting you on the spot the way I did last night. I wasn’t a very
good friend, putting myself first like that.”

“Ah, don’t be
silly. You have every right to date who you want. I was out of
order sounding off at you the way I did. I just wasn’t expecting to
know Nick when you arrived last night, that’s all, and you weren’t
to know what an arse he was. Though…” she added with a wink, “I did
try to tell you he sounded a bit too good to be true.”

“Like a Galaxy
bar,” Jess and Nora chorused.

“Good parallel.
You need a man who is a bit rough round the edges, Jess, but he’s
got to have a heart of gold like yours, too.”

Jess was
assailed by an image of Owen as Brianna, obliviously smearing her
toasted brioche with pate, asked, “Hey, have you told your mammy
it’s all off?”

“There’s no
point because it’s too late to stop her coming now; her flights are
all booked. Anyway, a wasted trip will serve her right for being so
gung-ho about marrying me off.”

“She’ll be
devastated.”

“She’ll get
over it,” Jess muttered.

“When does she
arrive?” Nora asked.

“This sodding
Tuesday, can you believe it? I tell you, girls, we’ll drive each
other mad spending all that ‘quality’ time together. A few days I
can do but two weeks under the same roof?” She shook her head.

“We’ll help
keep her busy,” Brianna assured her and Nora nodded her
agreement.

“Yeah, it will
fly by, you’ll see.”

“Thanks.” Jess
wasn’t convinced.

“You know, I
feel pretty stupid, too.” Nora changed the subject. “I thought Nick
was perfect for Jess. It goes to show what an appalling judge of
character I am. I hope I haven’t made the same error of judgement
in Ewan.”

“Ewan is not
Nick! Besides, you said they hardly know each other these days,”
Jess stated firmly and glad to take the spotlight off herself for a
moment, she asked, “Have you told him how you really feel about
adventure sport yet?”

“I was going to
wait until he got home next week but I blurted it out last night
when we were Skyping in between—”

“Spare us the
gory details—we’re eating, thank you very much. So what did he
say?”

Nora looked
coyly at them. “You were both right; he was great about it. He said
I should have told him instead of putting myself through the paces
like that but that any girl prepared to do what I had done to
impress him was worth having around. I am going to be his
cheerleader from now on and watch from the sidelines, which suits
me just fine.”

“Oh Nora,
that’s great! Do you know, I still can’t quite believe you are
dating a movie star.”

“Me neither,”
Brianna reiterated.

Nora smiled and
then dropped her gaze, studying her glass for a moment. “I don’t
think of him like that. I did at first but once you’ve seen someone
sit on the loo first thing in the morning, it kind of brings it
home that it’s just a job. Albeit a very well-paid and glamorous
one but at the end of the day, it’s just a job and he is only
human.”

“Albeit just a
fecking gorgeous one and I want to propose a toast.” Brianna
slurred slightly; she wasn’t used to wine in the middle of the day.
“To the best friends a girl could have.”

“To the best
friends a girl could have.” The girls raised their glasses and
clinked.

“It’s my turn
now!” Nora insisted, holding her glass up again. “To rough and
ready men with a heart of gold for Jess and to the lovely Pete and
to Ewan.”

“To the man for
me, wherever he may be, and to the lovely Pete and Ewan,” Jess
echoed as they did another round of clinking. Then Brianna and Nora
looked at her expectantly. “Your turn.”

“Okay—um, here
goes. To slimy, bad tempered freaks with erectile dysfunction not
getting their own way—long live the Bray Community Centre!”

“Yay! That’s
the attitude, Jess—get mad, not sad.” Nora leaned over and patted
her hand before raising her glass along with Brianna. “Long live
the Bray Community Centre! Now then, can we get down to some
serious drinking?”

The three women
laughed and charged their glasses.

“You know,
Jess, I am a firm believer in getting right back on your horse and
riding it or in your case the pig, so what about it? How does the
land lie with your pig farmer chap?”

“Stop calling
him my pig farmer, Nora; his name’s Owen.”

Over the second
bottle of wine, Jess’s tongue well and truly loosened as she filled
her friends in on what had happened in the barn during her mercy
dash to Ballymcguinness.

“I knew there
was more to it!” Brianna shrieked, causing heads to turn.

“You sly old
thing, you making out you were only concerned with the piglet’s
health. How is porky by the way?” Nora said.

“It’s Wilbur,
as you well know, and I don’t know how he is because I haven’t
heard from Owen since then.”

Then both girls
asked, “So what are you going to do about it?”

Jess shrugged
as her dish of Dublin Bay prawn risotto was placed in front of her.
“Nothing. What can I do? He made it pretty clear it was a spur of
the moment mistake and he never phoned me when Amy’s story ran. If
he wanted to talk to me that would have been his cue to call,
surely?”

“I thought I
told you that you should ring him.”

“I did but he
wasn’t there, remember? So I left a message. He’s never phoned me
back.” Jess shrugged but the girls weren’t buying her affected
indifference.

“Well, I think
you should try again.” Nora pointed a fork full of potato smothered
in rosemary at her.

“Yes, me
too.”

“No bloody way.
I do have some pride, you know.”

“Barracuda”
broke out, much to the shock of their fellow diners and, blushing,
Jess rescued her phone from her bag. “You can bloody well change
this back to a normal ringtone, Nora Brennan.” She glanced at the
caller display and paled. “It’s him. Oh my God, it’s him.”

“Who? Nick?
Right, give me the phone.” Nora looked at her friend’s orb-like
eyes and held her hand out, looking like she was ready to do
murder.

“No, not
Nick—Owen.”

“Well, fecking
well answer it then!”

From her
vantage point on the bridge, Jess could see that Owen had gotten
there first. With downcast eyes, his hands were thrust deep in the
pockets of his jeans to protect against the biting wind as he
scuffed the pavement with the toe of his boot. At the sight of him
standing outside her apartment building, her legs literally felt
weak and she gripped the railings to steady herself.

She’d panicked
at first when she answered the phone, feeling sure he was going to
tell her that Wilbur was no longer with them. Or, that he and his
Dad had hated seeing “Amy’s Story” in print and the whole thing had
been a huge mistake. Asking him to hang on for a sec, she’d gotten
up from the table, unable to concentrate because Nora and Brianna
were climbing all over each other in their desperate attempt to
eavesdrop. Frowning at them both, she’d mouthed “behave” before
walking the expanse of the restaurant to brave the elements
outside. Having been assured Wilbur was on the mend, she wrapped
her spare arm around herself, wishing she’d put her coat on as she
braced herself to hear what he had to say.

“I wanted to
thank you for what you wrote and me Da asked me to let you know
that he thought you made a grand job of it.”

Jess exhaled.
“I’m so glad. I was worried it might have been too much for
him.”

“No, he’s a
tough old bugger, my Da.”

A chip off the
old block then, Jess thought, waiting for him to get to the crux of
his call.

“He’s had to
be, you know, and it was a good thing reading about Amy in the
paper like that because it meant we talked about her and Ma—the
good times as well as the bad. Instead of both burying our head in
the sand and pretending it was a day like any other. Anyway, the
thing is, I’m in Dublin for the day and I wondered whether you
might be free to meet up somewhere. It’s short notice, I know…”

The casual
indifference behind his words irked her. She wasn’t in the mood to
jump to, not after the way things had been left the last time they
had seen each other. It just seemed hard—too much of an effort
required that she just didn’t have the energy for. Maybe if he had
called her yesterday before everything that had happened with Nick,
she might have been more receptive but today she wasn’t in a happy
space where men were concerned at all.

“I’m out for
lunch with the girls at the moment, sorry.”

“Ah.”

They both
drifted into silence and Jess, shivering, watched a young couple
padded out in matching puffa jackets wandering toward the Green on
the other side of the road. Between them was a toddler who could
have passed for a Teletubby waddling along, holding both their
hands as they entered the park. The woman was carrying a loaf of
bread with her spare hand and Jess felt a pang. She wished her life
were so simple that Sunday afternoons could be spent strolling St
Stephens Green with people she loved, feeding the ducks. Not
standing outside a restaurant freezing while she dealt with an
unpredictable Northern Irish man with a troubled past.

Owen cleared
his throat but Jess stubbornly maintained her silence and her
stance; she was not going to make this easy for him. He didn’t have
the monopoly on moodiness and it was him who had rung her, after
all, so let him sweat it out.

“What about
meeting up when you’ve finished your lunch like?”

So he was
prepared to wait for her? That boded well but hang on a sec, Jess
cautioned herself; don’t get ahead of yourself. For all she knew,
he could just want to collect the photos of Amy he had loaned her.
“Why, is it urgent?”

“Aye, it is in
a way. I owe you a proper apology like for the way I behaved the
other day and I’d like to do it in person.”

Well, she
hadn’t expected that. Was he sorry for kissing her or was he sorry
for the way he had acted as though it should never have happened
afterwards? There was only one way to find out and if he was going
to be magnanimous then so would she. “Okay, I’ve finished eating,
anyway. I could meet you at mine in an hour for a coffee—that way,
I could give you your photos back too. Does that suit?”

“Aye, an hour
would be grand.”

Jess gave him
directions and then hung up before heading back inside to the
warmth of Peploes where Brianna and Nora were chomping at the bit
to find out what had transpired.

“Why did you
not suggest meeting him here so we could get a good look at him?”
Nora asked, her bottom lip sticking out.

“Because, Nora,
you two would scare the living daylights out of him.”

“I think she
wanted ease of access to the bedroom.” Brianna leered over the rim
of her wine glass.

“Oh my God, you
don’t think that when I said meet me at my place for coffee, Owen
would have heard meet me at my place for sex! Do you?”

“Calm down,
Jess. If you said coffee, then he’ll be expecting coffee, not you
in sexy lingerie and for the love of Mary, go and get that piece of
parsley out from between your teeth before you head off!”

***

He still hadn’t
spotted her on the bridge and Jess savoured the moment it gave her
to compose herself. He was dressed in his civvies—as she had come
to think of his non-farming attire: jeans and, squinting into the
weak afternoon sunlight, a blue jumper that wasn’t an Aran
knit.

She didn’t know
what today was going to bring; that was the thing with Owen—she
never knew. All she could hope for, she decided as she steeled
herself to carry on across the bridge, was honesty on his part. Her
hands clenched into fists at her side. And if he started to pull
any of his moody bullshit, well, she’d… She didn’t get past that
thought because looking up, Owen’s gaze locked on hers. He waved
out and began striding down the Quays to meet her.

Trying
surreptitiously to smooth her hair, Jess hoped she didn’t look too
dishevelled. The wind had all but blown her down Grafton Street and
along the Quays.

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

They danced
around, each self-consciously, on the cracked old pavement for a
moment. What was the protocol when it came to greeting someone you
had snogged passionately the last time you had seen them? In the
end, Owen decided a kiss on the cheek was appropriate and when his
lips brushed against her skin, Jess felt as though she had been
scalded. Taking a step back, she waved in the direction of
Riverside. “You found it okay then?”