Chapter 35
35
The Aga was on when Jess stepped inside the kitchen, and the warmth made her feel instantly at home. Owen was bustling around at the kitchen bench, a study of domesticity as he asked, ‘White and one? That’s how you take your coffee, isn’t it?’
‘Yes please,’ Jess replied, and not waiting to be asked, she pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. Her nose twitched as she realised it wasn’t just the warmth from the Aga that gave the kitchen such a homely feel; it was the smell of fresh baking permeating the room. When Owen turned round a moment later, he had a plate of buttered scones in one hand and her cup of coffee in the other.
‘You didn’t make those, did you?’ Jess asked, her mouth dropping open.
‘Aye,’ he replied, placing the cup down in front of her and the scones in the middle of the table before pulling a seat out opposite her and sitting down.
‘How on earth did you learn how to bake scones? They’re supposed to be a Kiwi staple right up there with pikelets, and I can’t even bake them.’ Mind you, thought Jess, helping herself to one, that wasn’t saying much.
‘Me mam. Amy wasn’t interested in cooking and the like, only licking the bowl, but I used to follow Mam round the kitchen like a shadow. She was forever telling me to get out from under her feet.’
Jess soaked in this information, trying to imagine a much younger version of the man before her trailing round after his mother as she whipped up wholesome treats for her family. She couldn’t so she bit into her scone instead. The butter dribbled down her chin; it was delicious. There was nothing so comforting as a cuppa and a scone, she thought, wiping her chin with the back of her hand.
‘Not quite chicken soup, but I think it’ll do the trick,’ Owen said with a smirk.
‘They’re fantastic,’ Jess mumbled between bites. ‘My mum’s a great baker, too. She makes these biscuits called yo-yos that are my absolute favourite. But I didn’t inherit her baking gene, I’m afraid.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m a lost cause. I couldn’t even get my fudge to set in third-form home ec.’
‘It’s not hard; it’s basic science. I’ll show you sometime.’ Owen’s normally tan colouring turned ruddy, and before Jess could respond, he changed the subject. ‘Any word for definite on when the article will run?’
‘Niall – that’s my editor – said it’ll be going in the weekend paper this Saturday, October the twentieth. I was going to ring you and let you know it was definitely going ahead, but you beat me to it.’
‘Thirty years to the day.’
‘Yes, thirty years to the day. I think I mentioned that Niall felt running it on the anniversary of Amy’s death made her story all the more poignant.’ Jess cringed, seeing his face, and instinctively reached across the table to rest her hand on his arm. ‘Sorry, poignant sounds so trite, I know, but it does seem right somehow to run it then, don’t you think?’
‘Aye.’
Her hand resting on his arm suddenly seemed a trite gesture in itself so she removed it, busying herself by picking at the remains of her scone. ‘I’ve arranged for a copy of the Express to be couriered to you on the Saturday morning.’
She desperately wanted to ask how he really felt about having it all raked up, but his expression didn’t invite the question, so they sat in silence for a few moments, each lost in thought. For Jess’s part, she was surprised to realise that on this visit, she hadn’t felt the ghost of Amy between them until now. In fact, she hadn’t thought of her at all, and she hoped that didn’t make her disrespectful in any way; it was just that her purpose for coming had nothing to do with Amy.
It was true that life did go on, but it startled her to realise that perhaps for Owen, his sister’s shadow was always there.
When he looked up from his teacup, he’d obviously decided to change the subject. ‘So what have you been doing with yourself since I saw you in Malahide?’
‘Oh, not much – working, catching up with my girlfriends.’ She was reluctant to mention Nick, deciding it was none of his business anyway. ‘What about you?’
‘Looking after the pigs.’
Well, if ever there was a conversation stopper, that was it. Jess shifted uncomfortably in her seat before helping herself to one last scone. As she gobbled it down, ‘Barracuda’ erupted from the depths of her handbag. Owen’s eyes widened as she fished it out and put a stop to the blaring tune.
‘What the feck do you think you’re doing at the pig farmer’s again?’ a voice shrilled down the line at her.
It was Nora.
Adopting a sweetness-and-light tone, Jess replied, ‘Yes, I got here without any problems. Thanks again for letting me use the car. I’ll have it back to you by six at the latest. Bye and thanks again.’ She thought she heard Nora shriek her name as she hung up, but she couldn’t be sure.
‘That’s an interesting choice of ringtone.’
‘What? Oh yeah. That was my friend Nora’s idea of a little joke. It’s beginning to wear thin. I can’t bake, and I’m pretty much a technophobe, so now you know all my secrets.’
Owen looked blank, but Jess couldn’t be bothered explaining. She suddenly felt drained by the day’s events, a sinking sensation overcoming her. She’d only be able to avoid Nora for so long before she got short shrift from her, and as for Owen – well, his moods were like the shifting tides, and she’d had enough.
‘Look, like I said, I have to have the car back for six, so I might just go out and say my goodbyes to Wilbur now before I head away, if that’s OK?’
‘Aye, fine by me,’ Owen said, not looking at her as he got up and began clearing the table.
A few minutes later, Jess kneeled quietly next to Wilbur, who – despite the amazing ruckus coming from the pen near the entrance – was sound asleep, making little snuffling noises here and there. Her heart melted. ‘I really hope you make it, little buddy, but I think this time it’s going to be goodbye for good. I can’t see myself coming back here anytime soon, so you’re just going to have to be strong on your own.’
Blinking back the tears that threatened, she got up and turned to walk out of the barn, but Owen was blocking the entranceway with a peculiar expression on his face.
‘Why did you come here today?’ he asked, not moving aside.
‘You know why I came.’
He was studying her so intently she had to look away.
‘I came to see Wilbur.’
‘Was it just Wilbur you came to see?’ His voice was gruff, belying what really lay behind his words.
It was then that Jess knew if she were to look up, Owen would kiss her.