Chapter 33
33
Jess knew it was early when she woke because she could hear the dawn song. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard the birds in all their morning glory. The pigeons that congregated on the rail of her mock veranda of a morning weren’t exactly what you’d call songbirds.
She reached across the bed for Nick and began patting around. Realising the space next to her was empty, her eyes popped open. Where was he? She listened out for sounds of life – a toilet flushing, a kettle boiling – but there was nothing bar the birds. Deciding to investigate, Jess got up and pulled last night’s dress back over her head before padding through the silent apartment to the kitchen, sniffing for clues like Inspector Clouseau. She deduced from the lingering aroma of coffee and toast that Nick had been up, and then her eyes fixed on a note propped up against the kettle.
In the kind of precise handwriting she would have expected him to have, he informed her he had to be on the road early as he had a meeting in Cork. He’d be back late afternoon, so he’d phone her then. In the meantime, she was welcome to stay and make herself at home for the day.
Jess sighed. So there’d be no lingering breakfast followed by a spot of morning delight then.
Glancing round the empty apartment with its minimalistic styling, she suddenly felt very lonely.
She didn’t even wait to make a much-needed cup of coffee; instead she picked up the phone and called a cab. She wanted to go home.
Jess opened the door to her apartment and stepped inside, relieved that she hadn’t been subject to catcalls from Puff the Magic Dragon as she’d crossed the courtyard because she wasn’t in the mood. He must be doing some work for a change, she decided, kicking the door shut behind her – that or he’d decided to pack in the smoking. Wandering into the lounge, Jess’s eyes swept the room with a stranger’s eye. How would Nick perceive the organised chaos that she liked to think of as home? Would he see her eclectic collection of treasures as just that, or would he think of them as junk?
On the wall beside the antique oak sideboard Brianna and Nora had clubbed together to buy her for her thirtieth birthday, insisting she needed it to display her bits and bobs, was a set of six blue-and-white Tunisian tiles. When they were arranged together, they formed a picture of an urn. She’d haggled for an age with a leathery-skinned man in forty-degree heat whilst scooters swerved around her in a souk in Monastir to buy them. The aroma of foreign spices had lingered in her nostrils as she’d marched back triumphantly to her hotel with her carefully wrapped parcel. When she looked at those tiles, she could envisage the twinkle in that cunning old man’s brown eyes, and in her head, she could still hear the early morning call to prayer that signified she was indeed somewhere very foreign.
Then there was the dainty Royal Doulton china cup and saucer set she’d bought on a girls’ weekend down in Galway many moons ago. With a smile, she recalled how she, Brianna and Nora had had the kind of fun that only the young and single can have that weekend.
She’d been wandering the town’s cobbled streets on the Saturday morning, nursing a sore head and in search of greasy sustenance, when she’d found herself being drawn inside the dark and dusty antiques shop. As she’d opened the door and a bell had rung somewhere near the back, she’d half expected a pixie to materialise behind the counter – and the little old woman who’d appeared a moment later had indeed been the proud owner of a set of pointy ears. Jess had been reminded of the little shop where the Wishing Chair in Enid Blyton’s stories had been discovered, and though she hadn’t found a wishing chair of her own, she had found the cup and saucer set.
She couldn’t help but think of Owen as her eyes settled on her latest acquisition – the Carlton Ware leaf dish. While he would give her a hard time about all the tat she’d collected over the years, she knew he’d enjoy listening to the tales that went with them. She frowned, unsure if Nick would ever see the merit in anything second-hand.
Having made a good strong brew and followed it up with a hot shower, Jess dressed for comfort, not company, in her trusty elephant suit. She decided to shake the melancholic feeling that had settled over her for no particular reason she could pinpoint by firstly scoffing down what remained of the chocolate from their girly night in. Then she’d phone Brianna and ask for her take on Nick’s little problem. Nothing was sacred between friends, she thought before picking up the phone.
Brianna was, as Jess had known instinctively, most sympathetic to her plight; it was why she’d chosen to ring her and not Nora, who would have grilled her for hours on her bedroom technique.
‘I know where you’re coming from. It’s happened to Pete a couple of times – God, he’d kill me if he knew I was telling you – men are funny like that, aren’t they? It’s always been when he’s under pressure at work, so don’t read anything into it, Jess. I know it’s really hard not to take it personally, though, because until Captain Pete is back at the helm, I can’t help but wonder if he’s gone off me or something.’
Captain Pete? Jess didn’t want to pursue that one. ‘That’s exactly how I felt, even though I knew it was stupid.’
‘Well, it was stupid because he’s obviously smitten, but what has your man so wound up anyway?’
Oh crap, now she’d done it. Did she tell her Nick was the driving force behind the proposed demolition of her community centre or just leave it? Jess chewed on a fingernail, deciding to take the easier option and leave it, muttering something instead about the finance he was trying to get together for the project he was working on not being straightforward.
‘So are you going to see him again?’
‘I hope so. He said he’d phone me later today.’
‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it?’
‘He hasn’t phoned me yet.’
‘It’s only ten in the morning, that’s why. Now what about organising this dinner at our place so I can meet him and be bowled over by his wonderfulness, too?’
Jess cringed; she couldn’t keep Nick hidden away from Brianna – she was one of her best friends, after all. No, if she wanted to keep on seeing him, then she’d just have to bite the bullet and hope to hell that neither of them put two and two together.
‘I’ll mention it to Nick this afternoon – when suits you and Pete?’
‘What about Saturday night? It’s short notice, but then our social life is sorely lacking these days.’
‘So is mine because Saturday night is good for me, too, but I’ll let you know for definite once I’ve spoken to him. Oh and, Brie, don’t mention our little chat to Nora, will you? You know what she’s like; she’ll go straight out and buy me a copy of the Kama Sutra or something.’
Brianna laughed. ‘You’re right – she would. Don’t worry. I won’t say a word.’
‘Thanks.’ Jess decided to change the subject. ‘Now then, how’s my favourite wee man?’
‘Harry?’
‘Who else?’
‘Well, he might be your favourite young man, but he’s not mine. The little toad decided it would be a good idea to ask a lady at our local Tesco yesterday afternoon why she was so fat, but he didn’t just leave it at that – oh no, not my Harry. Nope, he went on to ask her why she wasn’t making healthy choices in her shopping. The poor woman had a box of frozen eclairs in her hand at the time. Apparently Harry’s class has been learning all about making good choices when it comes to food. I was mortified.’
Jess was still laughing when the phone rang again two minutes later.
It was Nora wanting to know how her dinner date had gone. Jess glossed over the main event, thanking her friend for picking out her dress and telling her what she wanted to hear – that it had been fantastic. It was only a little white lie, after all, because the foreplay had been amazing, and she was fairly sure the rest of it would have been, too, if Nick hadn’t got a puncture. Besides, she didn’t want to get into it again; what she really needed was some advice.
‘Nora, you know how Brie’s involved in trying to save the Bray Community Centre?’
‘Yes, she mentioned it the other night. She’s pretty passionate about it.’
‘I know – that’s the problem.’
‘What’s the problem – I’m not with you?’
‘Nick’s behind the proposed demolition of it.’
There was silence for a moment, and then Nora exhaled loudly before uttering Jess’s earlier sentiment. ‘Crap.’
‘My thoughts exactly. And now Brie’s insisting that I bring him round for dinner to meet her and Pete. She wasn’t keen on the little bit I’d told her about him anyway, but when she finds out it’s his company wanting to knock the centre down, she’ll go mad. What do I do?’
‘You’ll have to tell her because she’s bound to find out sooner or later anyway. Besides, it’s Brie’s problem, not yours. There’s nothing not to like about Nick. He’s successful, handsome and charming – do I need to go on? Business is just that – business. It’s not personal.’
It was true Nick was all those things, Jess thought, but Nora wasn’t finished yet.
‘Brianna will just have to drop the bleeding hearts routine and get over it.’
It sounded harsh, but Jess supposed she was right. ‘I guess so, but the thing is I can see her side of things, too. It is sad how companies like Nick’s come along and knock the stuffing out of small communities by tearing down buildings that have been their hub for years. And all because money talks. It just doesn’t seem right.’
‘Now, you listen to me, Jess,’ Nora said in that tone of hers that left no room for discussion. ‘Nick Jameson is the best thing that’s come your way in a long time. Don’t go spoiling it for yourself by jumping on Brie’s soapbox. You know what she’s like. By this time next month, she’ll have forgotten all about this community centre of hers and she’ll be signing up to save the fecking pigeon or some such thing.’
‘Yeah, I know what you mean, and in Nick’s defence, I have to say that I’ve never been wined and dined quite so thoroughly.’ She sighed. ‘It was lovely, but what if Brie doesn’t forget?’
Nora had an urgent call come through and had to go, leaving Jess feeling perturbed because in the space of half an hour, she’d more or less lied by omission to her two best friends about the man she was seeing. It was something she’d never done before, and it left a sour taste in her mouth.
She didn’t get a chance to dwell on it, though, because no sooner had she hung up the phone than it rang again. ‘Good God,’ she muttered, ‘what is this place – a frigging call centre?
‘Hello?’ she snapped.
‘Jess.’ A wary voice greeted her. ‘How are you? It’s Owen.’
At the sound of his Northern twang, her mood brightened. ‘Owen, hi! I’m fine. How are you?’ She didn’t give him a chance to answer, asking instead, ‘How’s Wilbur getting on?’
‘Actually, that’s why I am calling. Wilbur’s sick.’