Chapter 42
42
From her vantage point on the bridge, Jess could see that Owen had got there first. His eyes were downcast, his hands 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’d 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 risen from the table, unable to concentrate because Nora and Brianna were climbing all over each other in their desperate attempts to eavesdrop. Frowning at them both, she’d mouthed, ‘Behave,’ before walking the expanse of the restaurant to brave the elements.
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 Mam – 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’d 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’d 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 Stephen’s 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 wasn’t going to make this easy for him. He didn’t have the monopoly on moodiness, and it was him who’d 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’d 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’d 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. ‘OK, 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 Peploe’s, 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’d come to think of his non-farming attire): jeans and – she squinted 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 Owen looked up then, his gaze locking on hers. He waved 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 self-consciously on the cracked old pavement for a moment. What was the protocol when it came to greeting someone you’d snogged passionately the last time you’d 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’d been scalded.
Taking a step back, she waved in the direction of Riverside. ‘You found it OK then?’
‘Aye, your instructions weren’t hard to follow. There’s only one River Liffey and one Guinness factory in Dublin, after all.’
Jess’s shoulders relaxed as she spied that familiar twinkle in his eyes, and they began walking toward the apartment building’s entrance. ‘What about parking – did you get one all right?’
‘Aye, I got one round the back no problem, thanks. You could have warned me about the mad pigeons, though.’ He indicated a white-and-brown stain on his shoulder.
The pigeons that congregated daily around the side streets behind the Quays were a mangy-looking lot, always scrounging a crumb. They had a vindictive streak, too, if you didn’t produce the goods, hence the poop.
Jess wrinkled her nose, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tremor in her hand as she pushed open the main doors. ‘They are a bit of a nuisance. I’ll get a cloth to sponge it off when we get up to mine.’
Owen followed her through the foyer out into the quad, and the first thing they saw was Jimmy flat on his back. Gemma was standing over him with one foot firmly planted on his stomach again.
‘Come on, you great big lump – sit up! You’ve another twenty-five before you’re finished.’ Her ponytail swished back and forth as she shook her head. ‘If I don’t talk tough, he doesn’t even try. How’s it going, Jess?’ Then, spotting Owen, her face lit up. ‘Well, hello there. You must be Jess’s mystery man?’
Jess could have kicked her and would have, but the other girl was quite obviously stronger than her. ‘Gemma, this is my friend Owen; Owen, Gemma. Gemma is acting as Jimmy here’s personal trainer while he tries to quit smoking.’
‘Howrya?’ Jimmy wheezed, pulling himself up.
‘Twenty-four to go – get on with it, lard arse!’
Gemma grinned at them both, looking like butter wouldn’t melt. ‘I’m really enjoying this, and there’s good money to be made in personal training, so I might go solo – you know, quit the gym.’
‘Good for you, Gem. Catch you later.’ Jess was eager to be away before she tried to recruit her.
‘She’d do a roaring trade if she wore a leather mask and cracked a whip,’ Owen muttered, and Jess laughed as she pushed the lift button.
‘She’s a bit scary, isn’t she?’
‘Fecking terrifying!’
They grinned at each other, and as the lift door slid open, the ice between them thawed.
Flicking her gaze round the living room a moment later, Jess was glad she’d tidied up a bit before she’d headed out with Nora that morning. There was no underwear drying on the clothes rack or dirty dishes piled up on the bench. Yes, all in all, the place looked respectable. Owen had glanced around the room with curiosity etched on his face before being drawn to the windows with their view of the Guinness factory’s smoking stacks.
After flicking on the kettle, Jess busied herself by fossicking under the sink for an old cloth he could use to clean himself up with.
‘Janice Bohan.’
She looked up startled, rag in hand. ‘Pardon me?’
He held out a battered copy of Rapunzel – he’d obviously been flicking through her collection of old books. ‘This book once belonged to a lass by the name of Janice Bohan. Seeing all these here brings home the randomness of you deciding to find out about our Amy.’
‘I suppose it does when you look at it like that.’ Jess frowned at the suitcase stuffed full of all the other names she could have chosen to trace. At the fleeting memory of the dark-haired girl she thought she’d seen watching her and Owen, she wondered, ‘You know Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs was the last book I needed for my collection, so maybe it was just meant to be.’
‘Aye, maybe it was.’
He put the book back and wandered over to inspect her shelves full of treasures before turning round to face her. ‘It’s just what I pictured. All this – it’s you.’
‘Is that a good thing or a bad thing?’ Jess handed him the cloth and waited for an answer while he rubbed at his shoulder. She looked around the room, trying to see the apartment through his eyes.
Placing the rag down on the bench, he finally answered. ‘Oh, it’s definitely a good thing.’ Owen held her gaze and Jess’s stomach tightened. Was he going to kiss her?