Chapter 48
48
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 didn’t come, and when she opened 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 Gardaí eating their lunch roadside. She noticed her mother, who’d maintained a running commentary since they left Bray – which she’d tuned out by the time they passed through Drogheda – had grown 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. 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, Jess’s 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.
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 grocer’s. ‘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 candlestick maker . It’s certainly not somewhere I could ever picture you living, Jessica. You take after me in that you’re 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 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 – 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.
Marian frowned and shook her head in that way of hers that spoke volumes, and as they wound their way around the hedgerow lanes, Jess sent up a silent prayer for today to go well. She might well be approaching her mid-thirties, but that didn’t mean she didn’t still need her mum’s approval.
Brianna’s Golf Estate bounced up the driveway, hitting every puddle along the way, and Jess made a mental note to pop it through the car wash before she returned it. Glenariff came into view and did her proud by looking every inch the storybook farm cottage with its limewashed walls nestling against a backdrop of green.
‘Oh, Jess, it’s lovely. I feel like we’ve just driven into the pages of a Beatrix Potter book.’ Marian dropped her defences as she clapped her hands delightedly. ‘Oh, and look, there’s even ducks!’
As if on cue, Jemima and her cronies had picked that moment to come waddling round the side of the cottage for a dip in the pond.
‘Actually, Mum, they’re not ducks – they’re geese, and watch the mean-looking one in the middle. She’s their ringleader. I call her Jemima, and I wouldn’t trust her so far as I could throw her, and believe me, I’d like to.’
Marian laughed. ‘Jemima Puddle-Duck? You loved that book when you were a little girl. Come to think of it, you loved anything by Beatrix Potter, but then you moved on to fairies and Enid Blyton. Do you remember all that hoo-ha over Noddy and Big Ears?’
Jess wasn’t listening; she was busy leaning over into the back seat. ‘Here you go, Mum. You might want to take your heels off and put these on. They’ll save your shoes.’ Jess handed her a pair of blue plastic wellies. Cheap and cheerful, but they’d do for the day.
‘I will not wear gumboots!’ Marian looked at them aghast before climbing out of the car. She stood and smoothed her trouser suit down before squelching straight into a puddle.
Oh dear – Jess would have giggled if she wasn’t wound so tight – they weren’t off to a good start.
With lemony lips, Marian took the proffered boots and sat back down to change into them just as Owen appeared in the doorway. Waving over, he pushed his sock-clad feet into his own set of boots and strode forth to greet them.
As he approached, Jess’s tummy did that strange flip-floppy thing it always did when she saw him. He looked so ruggedly handsome; she’d never known a man who could carry off cords and a woolly jumper the way he did. She watched amazed as his face broke into a welcoming grin before he took her startled mother by both hands and kissed her on the cheek.
‘Welcome to Glenariff Farm. It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs Baré.’ He took a step back, still holding her hands in his as he studied her face. ‘Jess, you told me it was your mother who was coming, not your sister.’
It might have been a line as old as the nearby hills of the Mourne Mountains, but it worked, and the lemon lips disappeared, to be replaced by a flirtatious smile along with a bat of the eyelashes.
‘It’s lovely to meet you, too, Owen, and thank you for inviting us up for the day.’
‘Come on – don’t be standing about in the cold.’ Owen took Marian by the elbow and gently steered her around the potholes and into the waiting house.
Jess lingered behind for a moment, not quite believing what she’d just witnessed. Surely that charming chap who’d just wooed her mother couldn’t be the taciturn farmer she was fairly sure she’d fallen head over heels with?
As Marian disappeared into the warmth of the cottage, Owen looked back over his shoulder at her and winked before mouthing, ‘Told you so.’
It was easy for Jess to tell her mother was impressed by the cottage as Owen ushered her around by the way she held her back straight as she peered at the various furnishings, recognising them for the quality pieces they were. She lingered over the photos on the mantelpiece before picking one up and asking, ‘Is this your sister, Owen?’
With her nerves jangling as to what his reaction would be, Jess went and stood beside him in silent support, but he simply nodded, bemused as Marian continued to stare intently at it.
‘What a beautiful, beautiful girl,’ she said finally. ‘Jessica’s told me so much about her, you know, and of course I’ve heard all about the wonderful article she put together for her newspaper.’ Marian put the photo back before looking up at him with watery eyes. Then, resting her hand on his arm, she murmured, ‘Such a tragedy, young man; my heart goes out to you and your family.’
‘Aye, well, thank you, Marian – it’s all right if I call you that, isn’t it?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, please do.’
She was such a phony! Jess stared at her mother in disbelief – not once since she’d arrived in Ireland had she asked about Amy; nor had she shown any interest in the piece she’d written. All she’d done was act concerned about Owen being some kind of depressive because of it all and make non-stop snide remarks about his career choice.
Marian’s nose twitched, and her smile was warm as the unshed tears quickly evaporated. ‘Now, tell me, Owen, what’s that wonderful smell?’
‘I hope you’re both hungry because I’ve made a pie that could feed the five hundred, so I have.’ His eyes twinkled – he was clearly enjoying his role of benevolent farmer.
Jess felt so edgy she didn’t think she’d be able to eat a thing. She trooped behind him and her mother into the kitchen, feeling like she was going to the gallows. The trusty Aga was putting out the heat, and true to Owen’s word, a steaming casserole dish topped with a dense golden pastry sat in the middle of the table alongside a bowl of salad and a cob loaf. Her mother looked as if she was in love as Owen pulled a chair out for her and asked what her preference was. ‘White or red?’
Hoping it would help take the edge off, Jess opted for a glass of red, which she downed in next to no time while Owen dished up the pie. It was as she’d known it would be – delicious – and she managed a few bites while listening to the banter bounce back and forth between Owen and Marian.
Her hand froze, a piece of bread midway to her mouth, as Marian moved without warning from the innocuous swapping of pie recipes to the business at hand, drilling Owen about the farm as she helped herself to a second serving of salad.
Jess put the bread down, knowing it would taste like sawdust to her now, and sat back in her chair, clasping her hands tightly in her lap, her nails digging into her palms as Owen explained to Marian how long the farm had been in his family and what being able to keep it going by free-farming the pigs meant to him. Only money talked where Marian was concerned, though, and his familial, free-range sentiments would score no brownie points with her, so Jess decided to knock the conversation right off course.
‘Hey, Mum, did I tell you that Owen was a very successful commercial law solicitor in London for years?’ She didn’t need to add not just a pig farmer because it lay thick on the air and on the tip of her tongue.
Marian shot her daughter a peculiar look, but Jess didn’t notice; nor did she register Owen’s furrowed brows.
‘No, you didn’t tell me that. It wasn’t for you then, Owen?’
Jess wasn’t going to give him the chance to open his mouth again just yet, and waving her hand airily, she said, ‘Oh, he needed a career break, that’s all. London’s London – it will always be there.’
Jess pushed her chair back and stood up to clear her plate. With a glance at her mother’s stunned face, she was satisfied she’d successfully sold Owen’s earning capabilities to her. He was, she’d implied with her clever phrasing, a ‘professional’ who chose to masquerade as a farmer for the time being. Plate in hand, she gestured toward the garden and suggested they head outside to see Wilbur.
‘Aye, that’s a good idea, Jess. Marian, do you want to come with us, or would you like to stay here in the warm?’
Jess crossed her fingers behind her back, but there was no contest where Marian was concerned – another cup of coffee in a cosy kitchen or traipsing across muddy fields in order to see some pigs?
Jess virtually skipped along behind Owen as he led the way to the barn. It felt like months, not just a few days, since they’d last been alone together, and she couldn’t wait for some one-on-one time with him – and to see Wilbur, of course. If he didn’t slow down, though, she’d need a rest, not a snogfest, by the time they got to the barn. Crikey, he was setting one heck of a pace as he cut across the mushy paddock. She smiled to herself, thinking he was obviously as keen as she was to be away from the eagle-eyed Marian.
As he heaved open the barn door, she finally managed to catch up to him. In her eagerness to see Wilbur, though, she pushed past him and made her way down the barn, passing the sow and her piglet housed in the stall next to where Wilbur’s box was. Where were all the other piglets? she wondered briefly, but then seeing the heat lamp had been turned off and that the box was empty, her eyes flailed round the barn bewilderedly. As her gaze settled back on the fat sow lying on her side, hungry piglet suckling greedily at her, understanding suddenly dawned. It was Wilbur. She looked over to where Owen was still standing in the doorway for confirmation, and he nodded.
Jess wandered closer to the stall, but not too close because she didn’t want to disturb the little family, and stood silently watching the wondrous scene. He’d made it – Wilbur was out of the danger zone. Just look at him being nursed by his mother! Before long, he’d be up to size and joining his siblings foraging outside in the paddock. It was a beautiful sight, watching him bond with his mummy like that, and she wanted to share it with Owen, but he still hadn’t moved. She looked across at him, intending to beckon him over, but the look on his face stopped her, and with a sense of trepidation, she left the happy scene to find out what was wrong.
‘Are you OK? I know Mum can be hard work with her airs and graces, but you just have to take her with a pinch of salt. Don’t let her get to you.’
‘It’s not your mother who has the problem, Jess – it’s you.’
‘What do you mean?’ Jess looked up at him, puzzled, and reached out to touch his arm for reassurance, but he brushed her away, his irritation palpable. Taking a step back, she looked up at him, her face demanding to know what the problem was because she was damned if she knew.
‘What was all that malarkey in there about me being a lawyer? I’m a pig farmer, Jess. It’s what I do, and it’s what I love. I won’t apologise to anyone for my life because it’s a good one, and it’s an honest one.’
Jess opened her mouth to protest, but he shook his head and held up his hand to keep her at arm’s length. ‘No, let me finish what I have to say. If you can’t accept me for who I am, how do you expect your mother to? Jaysus, Jess, the reason I left London in the first place was to get away from people who were so caught up in worrying about what others thought. It’s not for me, that kind of life, and I didn’t think it was for you either, but I’ve read you all wrong.’
‘But I’m not like?—’
He didn’t stick around to hear her explanation, flashing a look of disgust at her before striding down the paddock away from the cottage and away from her. By the set of his shoulders, Jess knew there was no point in going after him. Besides, what would she say? What he’d said was true. She had been trying to make him out to be someone he no longer was, and if he were still that person, she probably wouldn’t want to be with him anyway. So why had she done it? To keep her bloody mother happy, that was why. She wanted him to be someone she would approve of for once.
As his figure grew smaller, she felt sick with the realisation that he’d trusted in her, and despite everything she’d said about not hurting him, she’d done exactly that.