Second Hand Jane (37 page)

Marian made it
to the bathroom in the nick of time and Jess had only just popped
the kettle on to make her mother a strong cup of coffee when the
intercom sounded, heralding the fact that her lost luggage was no
longer lost.

“Well, thank
goodness for that! I feel I can relax and get properly into the
holiday mode now,” Marian said a few minutes later as she heaved
her bulging case up onto her bed.

“You could have
fooled me, Mum. You looked like you were doing a pretty good job of
getting in the holiday mode this afternoon.”

“Yes, well,
that Guinness did rather go to my head but what goes on tour, stays
on tour, eh Jessica?”

Jess cringed.
It was not an appropriate saying for one’s mother to come out
with.

Oblivious of
her daughter’s discomfort, Marian began rummaging through her case.
“Here you go.” She held a Smith & Caughey’s bag aloft
triumphantly. “I had one last splurge before I lost my discount.
They are all YSL so they shouldn’t ride up your bottom.”

Jess peeked
inside the bag at the array of midnight blue, emerald green, and
ruby red lace and silk—knickers, knickers and more knickers. Now
this was the mother she knew and loved and it was definitely a step
up from the slippers. Maybe she didn’t think she was such a lost
cause after all. “Thanks, Mum, they’re gorgeous.”

Marian wasn’t
finished yet, though. Tossing trousers and a couple of jumpers to
the wayside, she produced a tin from the depths of the case. “These
are for you, too, sweetheart.”

Opening it up
and peering inside, Jess’s face split into a big grin because it
was full of the butter-filled custard biscuits she loved. “Yay!
Yo-Yos—my favourite!” She hugged her mum, feeling a surge of love
for her as she told her to leave the rest of her unpacking until
later. “Come on, let’s go and have a couple of these with our
coffee.”

The
unaccustomed alcohol, jet lag, and the busy day took its toll on
Marian and by seven that evening, she was tucked up in bed. Jess
cocked an ear and grinned from her vantage point on the couch,
hearing her snoring. She’d just flicked the television on when the
phone rang. It was Owen and she found herself unable to stop the
silly smile spreading across her face at the sound of his
voice.

They chatted
about all the inconsequential happenings in their day. Owen laughed
when she told him about her mother’s un-motherly behaviour with the
truck driver and how she nearly wet herself laughing at the sight
of Gemma and Jimmy. “I’m looking forward to meeting her; she sounds
a case.”

Jess changed
the subject then, asking after Wilbur.

“Aye, he’s
doing grand. He’ll be ready to join his siblings any day now. I
miss you,” he’d finished, his voice growing husky.

Jess was glad
there was nobody there to see the goofy look on her face as she
said, “I miss you too.” She’d have liked to have said that she
couldn’t wait for Saturday but truth be told, she was dreading
it.

***

Mother and
daughter spent Thursday amicably riding the Dart in either
direction with no mention of Owen. Instead, Marian kept up a
running commentary, filling Jessica in on how her father had
decided to retire at the end of the year and how her sister was so
excited about the idea of a new baby when it happened but that she
had no idea how she’d manage with five. “The children will have to
help out more. You know, when I was Mia’s age I used to…”

Jess let the
conversation flow over her, enjoying hearing all the trivia that
was part and parcel of family life. She did miss being part of it
all firsthand sometimes, instead of always hearing the family’s
news after the event. They had morning tea in Malahide and as Jess
sat in the quaint little café with her mother sipping a cup of tea,
a plate of scones with jam and cream between them, she couldn’t
help but recall her last visit to Malahide. How things had changed,
she thought, checking her phone to find a saucy text message from
Owen. She blushed as she read it, too embarrassed to send one back
with her mother sitting right there.

Marian, partial
to a bit of namedropping at the best of times, thoroughly enjoyed
hearing who lived where as they rode the train down to Greystones
later that afternoon. “Wait until I tell them all at Mahjong that I
saw Enya’s castle and I swear that was Rick Stein outside that
lovely little pub in Malahide.”

Jess smiled to
herself. It had been a nice day and it wasn’t over yet; they still
had time for a wander along the beach and a quick drink at the pub
before they’d need to get the train to Bray. Brianna had invited
them for an early dinner as Pete was working late.

***

“So Marian,
what do you think of our fair city then?” Brianna asked, passing
her the bowl of scalloped potatoes. “Harry, eat with your mouth
closed, please. Remember your manners.”

“Oh, I love it!
All the history and culture is just wonderful. We are such a new
country in New Zealand by comparison. Jessica has been showing me a
fabulous time and it’s marvellous to meet her lovely friends and to
see where she lives at long last.”

Jess was
impressed at her mother’s use of so many different adjectives and
looking across the table at her, saw how animated her face was. She
crossed her fingers under the table and hoped that same enthusiasm
would carry through to Saturday when she met Owen.

“From now on
when she telephones us, I’ll be able to picture exactly who, what,
or where it is she is talking about.” Marian paused as she
concentrated on spooning the potatoes onto her plate, her face
donning a petulant expression. “Not that she phones us much—it is
usually the other way round.”

“Oh, Marian, I
am sure that’s not true.”

It was
actually, Jess thought, feeling a frisson of shame. She’d have to
start making more of an effort but just as she’d promised to
faithfully phone home once a week, her mother opened that big mouth
of hers again.

“Of course,
Brianna, I’m only here for a fortnight and I’d have liked to have
gone down to Cork this weekend to kiss the Blarney Stone but
Jessica’s informed me we’re going up North to a pig farm to meet
this man friend of hers instead.”

Jess bristled.
“Oh well, at least I’ll be saving you from a bout of herpes by not
kissing the Blarney.” The much-kissed piece of rock at Blarney
Castle was a tourist favourite with the legend stating that doing
so would bestow whoever kissed the stone with the gift of the gab,
something her mother didn’t need to worry about, Jess thought,
fixing her with a black look.

“What’s herpes,
Mam?” Harry’s eyes were big, his mouth open in a vision of
masticated peas.

“Sorry,” Jess
mouthed at her friend.

Brianna decided
avoidance was the best reply. “Oh well, you’re not missing much,
Marian; you can’t get near the place for tourists normally. Now
going up North, well, you will get to see the real Ireland and the
scenery up that way is just stunning. From what Jessica’s told me,
too, Owen’s farm is like something out of a storybook. Sure you’ll
have a lovely time, so you will.”

Good old
Brianna, Jess thought, flashing her friend a grateful smile as she
passed the carrots over.

“Harry and I
grew the carrots together, didn’t we, poppet?”

Harry
nodded.

“I’m finding
involving him in the garden is a great way to get him to eat his
vegies.”

“Oh, I agree.
Kelly—that’s Jessica’s sister—says the same thing and she has a
wonderful vegetable garden on the go.”

“Yeah, that Dad
tends for her,” Jess muttered.

Marian ignored
the comment. “Have you met him then, this pig farmer friend of
Jessica’s, Brianna?”

Jess’s knife
hovered over her plate; she wished her mother wouldn’t use that
tone of voice each time she referred to Owen’s profession.

“No, not as yet
but I am sure I will get to do so in the near future. I am looking
forward to it. He sounds divine.”

“Do you think
so?” Marian raised a haughty eyebrow and Jess’s leg twitched
violently under the table with the urge to kick her.

Oblivious of
her daughter’s leg spasm, she cut into her chicken breast to reveal
the ham and cheese stuffing inside; then not giving Brianna a
chance to answer, she popped it in her mouth, chewed and declared
it to be delicious. “Is there any chance of passing some cooking
tips on to my daughter? I always say a woman needs to be a maid in
the living room, a cook in the kitchen, and a whore in the
bedroom.” She tittered in that irritating “all girls together”
giggle of hers, except they weren’t—all girls together.

“Mum! That’s
Jerry Hall’s quote, not yours, and remember who else is at the
table.” Her eyes flicked toward Harry, who was looking perplexed
once more by the strange adult conversation going on over the top
of his head.

“Mam, what’s a
whore?”

After dessert
and with Harry out of earshot, a lively chat between Marian and
Brianna had ensued about all the horrible things little boys get up
to. Marian had come up trumps with her tale of how her grandsons
Ethan and Elliott’s favourite pastime was crossing swords in the
shower in order to pee all over one another but Brianna had been
the hands-down winner with the Harry and the poo on the compost
pile story. The three women had stared in silence at the empty bowl
of home-grown carrots and then Jess had announced that if they were
going to catch the eight p.m. train, then they had best be making a
move.

As they made to
leave, Brianna pulled Jessica to one side, whispering out the
corner of her mouth, “I like your Mam, Jess, I really do. Once you
get beneath that front she tries to put on, she’s a sweetie but I
tell you what, if Harry decides to tell his class all about whores
and herpes for news tomorrow, I will hold her personally
responsible.”

***

Jess had
arranged to take her mother into the Guardian’s Office for the
grand tour on Friday and when it rolled round, it was much to her
relief that this was one outing they managed to get through with no
further faux pas on Marian’s part.

As Brianna had
received no complaints from Harry’s teacher about the use of
inappropriate language when she went to pick him up from school on
Friday, she agreed to keep her promise regarding her car. The freak
snowstorm that would render the roads impassable that Jess had been
praying hard for did not eventuate and when she drew her curtains
on Saturday morning, she saw the day had dawned cold but clear.
There wasn’t so much as frost on the ground.

The route North was more familiar to Jess this time
round, with no hidden surprises in the form of gardai eating their
lunch roadside. She noticed her mother, who had maintained a
running commentary since they left Bray and to which she had tuned
out by the time they passed through Drogheda, grew quiet. They were
driving alongside the outskirts of Newry with its rows of duplicate
houses, Irish flags flapping brazenly on the breeze.

They were
making good time, Jess thought, glancing at the dashboard before
turning her attention back to the road in front of her. At least
the weather being good meant that her mother was seeing the Irish
countryside at its best. She tapped her foot gently on the brake to
slow as they arrived at Dundrum and couldn’t resist pulling over
for a spot of morning tea. It was such a pretty village and Marian
seemed quite smitten by it as she peered out the window at the
ruins of the castle.

However, as
they drove down the hill a short while later and Ballymcguinness
popped into view, her feeling of impending doom deepened. Owen’s
little village was more functional than aesthetic and she didn’t
want to give her mother any more negative ammunition with which to
fire.

In an effort to
endear her to the delights of small Irish village life, she pointed
out Katie Adams puffing away on her perpetual ciggy as she stood
outside the pub and Billy Peterson, who was arranging pears this
time outside his grocers—they must be in season, Jess said
cheerfully as she spotted Old Ned still sitting on the wall. He
raised his stick to them in salute and Marian tittered in the
passenger seat.

“
Goodness, this place reminds me of that
old nursery rhyme, you know the one?
The butcher, the baker, the candle stick
maker
. It’s certainly
not somewhere I could ever picture you living, Jessica. You take
after me in so much as you are a city girl. What on earth would you
find to write about living here?” Her mouth dropped open and Jess
followed her gaze to the left, where she spied Mad Bridie in her
dressing gown and slippers, trying to get on a bicycle.

“There you go,
Mum, see—there’s plenty to write about in the country when you look
a little closer. There’s always a lot more going on than meets the
eye in a small community.” Jess had no idea whether this was true
or not but she wasn’t going to sit by in silence and let her get
away with making unfavourable remarks to do with a way of life she
was clueless about. “And for your information, I happen to like the
country. You can’t beat all that clean, fresh air.”

“All that
methane, you mean.” Marian shot a disparaging look at the cows
happily chomping at the lush grass in the fields they were now
driving past. “And since when did you like the country?”

Jess thought
for a moment and then the answer came to her clear as a bell. “Ever
since I met Wilbur.” It was true, she realised; that little piggy
had brought her and Owen together and had inadvertently put a lot
of things into perspective for her about what was important in life
and what wasn’t.