Second Hand Jane (36 page)

“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.”

She watched as
the struggle played out on her mother’s face. There was so much she
obviously wanted to say but was fighting against spurting it all
out and getting into an argument so early in the piece. She was too
weary for that and so miming that her lips were sealed, she
declared, “Alright, I won’t say a word more about him.”

Yeah, right.
Jess fixed her with a steely glare. “And you will keep an open mind
on Saturday and you will be nice? Promise me.”

“Alright,
alright. Yes, I promise I’ll behave.”

There wasn’t
much more to say after that and feeling her hackles slowly settle
down, Jess went off to rustle them both up a light supper of
scrambled egg and toast.

She waited
until Marian had gone to bed to ring Owen, filling him in about the
lost luggage and her mother’s journey from hell. He’d sympathised
and told her about his day, informing her Wilbur was steadily
gaining weight before they’d said a drawn-out good night to each
other. She hadn’t even hung the phone up and she was missing him,
she realised, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her
head on her knees.

Rolling over in
bed, eyes wide open and staring into the darkness, she conjured up
the feeling of him lying next to her. Oh yes, where Owen was
concerned she had it bad.

The next
morning after breakfast, Jess managed to dig out an old pair of
curling tongs that would suffice until Marian could get hold of her
heated rollers and handing over her makeup bag, she gave her free
rein with it.

After much
discussion about what she would wear for the day, “I am not wearing
any of your oddball thrift shop ensembles,” she had stated, giving
her daughter’s authentic Boho skirt and boots the once-over before
settling on the elephant suit. She didn’t really have much choice
because it was the only new thing Jess owned and it was also the
only outfit that would fit her.

Actually, Jess
thought, tossing her mother a soft pink scarf to brighten the
outfit, it suited her.

“It doesn’t
look too bad and at least I will be comfortable.” She’d sniffed,
giving her hair one last primp, looking much more like Jess’s
mother and not the vagrant she had picked up from the airport
yesterday. Then, they headed off for a day’s sight-seeing.

The morning
passed in a blur of hopping on and off the open-topped double
decker that did the rounds of the city. Thankfully the weather
behaved itself and although it was cold, at least it wasn’t wet.
They were too busy soaking up the city’s history to talk about
anything more serious than the sights they were seeing and Jess was
enjoying seeing Dublin through a newcomer’s eyes again.

It gave her a
sense of pride as they wandered through the grounds of Trinity
College to go and view the exquisite Book of Kells housed there.
For her part, Marian was completely blown away by Christchurch
Cathedral, marvelling at the fact it had been in existence since
the tenth century. She’d had her photo taken next to the statue of
Molly Malone on Grafton Street, laughing as Jess sung the first
verse of the song that had become Dublin’s unofficial anthem:

In Dublin’s
fair city

Where the
girls are so pretty

I first set my
eyes on sweet Molly Malone

As she wheel’d
her wheelbarrow

Through
streets broad and narrow

Crying cockles
and mussels alive, alive o!

Jess had
arranged to meet up with Nora for lunch in Temple Bar and being a
nice day, the area was heaving. They picked their way along the
cobbled street to Café Vivaldi, where she spied her friend. Nora
was already sitting under one of the big umbrellas, having bagged a
seat in the small outdoor area in front of the eatery. Good,
thought Jess as Nora waved out; it was a place to sit and “be
seen”—Mum will be in heaven. There was nothing like a spot of
people-watching on a nice day in Dublin.

Nora’s dark
glasses were firmly in place and a latte was in front of her as she
relaxed in the unexpected bonus of winter sunshine. Pushing her
glasses up onto her head, she scraped her chair back and stood up
with a wide and welcoming smile. Marian, an apparition in
elephantine grey, enveloped her in a warm hug, nearly knocking her
off her Valentinos.

“I’ve heard so
much about you over the years; I feel like I already know you, my
dear, and it is lovely to finally put such a pretty face to the
name,” she enthused.

“Sure, it’s
great to finally meet you, too, Mrs Baré.” Nora didn’t know it but
she had just scored herself ten out of ten for pronouncing Baré in
the correct manner first pop.

“Call me
Marian, dear.” The two women sat down and Jess, grinning at Nora,
pulled a chair out and joined them.

“Isn’t the
atmosphere just lovely? There’s such a buzz about the place.”
Marian sighed contentedly as she gazed around at the teeming foot
traffic.

“Yes, Dublin
always comes alive when the sun comes out and this is a lovely spot
to sit and just watch the world go.” Nora smiled, pleased her
suggested meeting spot was being so well received.

“And the
coffee’s great, too—Mum, what do you fancy?”

“A large latte
and a sandwich would be lovely—you choose. It’s so nice to sit
down, Nora; I tell you, we’ve been on the go all morning.”

Nora had
already ordered so Jess left Marian filling her friend in on their
morning’s activities and headed inside to order.

When she
reappeared with their table number in hand, the two women had moved
on to the subject of Ewan. Marian was asking for the lowdown and
Nora was only too happy to fill her in.

Their various
sandwiches and paninis arrived and the conversation flowed.

“I love your
outfit, Marian; it looks casual but smart at the same time—the
perfect choice for sight-seeing.” Nora was staring at the older
woman’s pant suit; there was something about it that looked really
familiar but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Jess sniggered.
Nora fancied herself as such a fashionista, she’d be horrified when
she realised it was her trusty old elephant suit.

“Thank you,
dear; it’s actually Jessica’s. My case got left behind in Taiwan so
I had nothing with me but the clothes I was standing in.”

Nora’s face was
a picture when she twigged and as her mother chatted on, Jess felt
herself relaxing in the warmth afforded by the sun. She didn’t know
what she had been so uptight about her Mum coming over for. All
that wasted energy worrying when it was all going to be fine.
Today, in the unseasonal bright weather, all those little
idiosyncrasies of hers that normally grated seemed muted. Or at
least they had…

“So what do you
make of this Owen Jessica is so keen on then, Nora?”

Jess’s
shoulders stiffened. “Mum, you promised you weren’t going to say
anything more until you’ve met him for yourself.”

“I was only
asking Nora’s opinion of him.” Her mother protested innocence.
“What’s wrong with that if you’ve got nothing to hide?”

Nora squirmed.
“Actually, Marian, I can’t say too much about Owen because I
haven’t met him yet either but from what Jess has told me, he
sounds lovely. I am not passing further judgement until she does
introduce us, moreover—not after the botch-up I made introducing
Nick.”

Marian’s eyes
narrowed. “Yes, he was a bit of a wolf in sheep’s clothing but you
weren’t to know, dear. I get to meet Owen on Saturday. Jess is
driving us up to this farm of his. I can’t say I’m looking forward
to that.”

“Mum!”

“I meant going
to a piggery for the day, not meeting this new friend of yours. I
don’t know, Nora; she’s always been the same—so defensive.” Marian
smiled conspiratorially at Nora as though Jess weren’t seated right
next to her before getting to her feet and announcing she had an
urgent call of nature to attend to.

“God, she never
changes! Nobody else can wind me up as fast as she can. She’s such
a bloody snob.” Jess huffed as her mother disappeared inside the
café, resisting the urge to poke her tongue out at her retreating
back.

Nora grinned
and patted her friend’s hand. “She’s your Mam—that’s what they do
to their children. You just take her too seriously, that’s all; she
doesn’t mean anything by it and at the end of the day, it’s your
best interests she has at heart. I really like her. I can see a lot
of you in her, actually.”

“Nora Brennan,
take that back—you cannot!”

“I can too. You
have the same eyes and hair—hers is just shorter, that’s all.”

It wasn’t the
first time Jess had heard the comparison made. “Yeah, well, that’s
where the similarities end and the only reason you’re so taken with
her is because she wanted to hear all about your favourite
subject—Ewan—so as she can go home and tell all her Mahjong friends
that she met the girl who is dating Mr Movie Star.”

Marian
re-joined the conversation and when there was no further mention of
Owen, Jess felt her mood lighten again. Nora’s hour-long break flew
by and after they’d said their goodbyes to her, Jess tried to
persuade her mother to go on the Dublin Viking Tour—she’d never
admit it to anyone but she’d always wanted to go on the bright
yellow amphibious vehicle that toured the city. The tour culminated
in a “splash down” at the Grand Canal Docks but Marian wasn’t keen
and wouldn’t be persuaded. She didn’t want to get her carefully
curled hair wet.

Instead, they
wandered through the Grand Post Office. Jess pointed out the bullet
marks from the 1916 Easter Rising, engraved for all time in the
building’s pillars. As her fingers ran over the indentations, she
couldn’t help but think that this was where it all started. Those
men who had taken part in the Rising with such a justifiable,
downtrodden passion could never have known the spinoff that would
happen sixty-odd years later to a girl from Ballymcguinness.
Shaking the morbid thoughts away, she linked her arm through her
mother’s and led her back out to the street. They moseyed along
O’Connell Street so that Marian could call into one of the many
souvenir shops dotted around the city to stock up on all things
leprechaun. Laden down with bags, Jess suggested one more port of
call—it was on their way home anyway and besides, they’d earned a
drink: the Brazen Head, Ireland’s oldest pub.

Sitting with
her pint of perfectly poured Guinness in front of her—when in Rome,
Marian had giggled as she placed her order and if Jess hadn’t known
better, she would have thought her mother was flirting with the
handsome young bartender—she was in raptures as she soaked up the
atmospheric interior of the little pub.

“This is just
how I envisaged an Irish pub and look! They even have fiddlers
playing on the weekend!” She pointed to a poster on the wall with
such enthusiasm that Jess felt a surge of warmth toward her. How
was it she could love her Mum so much one minute and then in the
next want to thump her?

Marian was very
giggly and the careful façade with which she normally carried
herself had definitely slipped as they made their way home two
drinks later, unaccustomed as she was to tippling in the afternoon.
Jess had been horrified when she’d caught her blowing a kiss at a
geriatric lorry driver who was leering out the window at them while
they crossed the road. She’d taken her mother to task as well as by
the elbow, steering her straight home after that incident.

To Jess’s
dismay, Gemma and Jimmy were in full “discipline” workout mode as
they entered the quad and Marian had laughed fit to burst at the
sight of them before asking who did they think they were: “Jane
Fonda and Richard Simmons?” Then, crossing her legs, she’d hobbled
off in the direction of Jess’s wing as fast as her little legs
could carry her, muttering about wetting herself if she didn’t get
to the loo quick smart. Jess scurried after her, tossing an apology
over her shoulder to Gemma and Jimmy, who called after her
demanding to know who the hell Jane Fonda and Richard Simmons
were.