Second Hand Jane (5 page)

“When are you
going to do one on good old Irish tucker? Because you can’t beat my
Gran’s stew with a hunk of soda bread to mop it all up with—yum!
It’s the best.” Brianna’s eyes glazed over at the very thought of a
bowl of it.

“I’ve only got
a couple more weeks to run with the cooking school theme and no
offence to Granny Dierdre, but I’m booked in on a Cajun course and
then I’m looking at a Portuguese class. After that, I need to come
up with something completely different. Niall’s giving me the hard
word—he wants something that will really hold the reader’s
attention, so put your thinking caps on, girls.”

“Well, if you
go on this blind date Nora’s jacked up, you could write about that.
I for one would be most interested in finding out how you get on
and I think you should go, by the way.” Brianna opened Harry’s bag
of Prawn Cocktail flavoured crisps and handed them to him. “Because
if you don’t go, you’ll never know, will you?”

“Know what?”
Jess frowned.

“Whether or not
he’s the one, of course!”

“Humph. Or he
could be this Ewan of Nora’s ugly, desperate mate.”

“Ewan assured
me there is absolutely nothing wrong with him. They went to school
together and he’s done really well for himself, dealing in
property, apparently.” Nora leaned toward her. “Come on, Jess.
Brianna’s right: if you don’t come along, you will never know and
you might be letting the opportunity of a lifetime slip you by.
What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“He could be a
serial killer.”

“Well, now that
would make for riveting reading,” Nora replied and Brianna
sniggered.

“It’s not
funny.”

“
Look, I’ll lay it on the line for you.”
Nora leaned forward earnestly. “I am actually rather keen on Ewan
and he asked me on behalf of this old school chum of his—whom, like
I said loves your column and your weirdo style—to set up a double
date for this Thursday. Please,
please
don’t make me let them down.”

Jess knew when
she was beaten. “Well, I have to go when you put it like that,
don’t I? But I’m warning you, Nora, I will make you suffer if he
turns out to be a freak of nature.” She took a slug of wine. “And
you have to come shopping with me this week, Brie. I have a feeling
I won’t get away with wearing my trusty old 1960s rose print
cocktail dress.”

“You most
certainly will not!” Nora exclaimed.

“I didn’t think
so. Looks like I shall have to splurge if I am going to find a
dress worthy of being seen out with the halter neck.”

“Ooh, goodie! I
love shopping.” Brianna grinned. “Especially when it’s someone
else’s credit card getting a hammering.”

Nora smiled too
and raised her glass. “Thanks, sweetie; you’re the best. To the
One—you never know.”

“To the One,”
they chorused.

Harry joined in
clinking his lemonade against their wine glasses so
enthusiastically that he managed to slop half of it over the wooden
table top. “Whoopsie.”

“Never mind,
love; it was an accident.” Brianna produced a roll of paper towels
from her bag.

“My God girl,
have you got the kitchen sink in there as well?” Nora asked in
disbelief.

“I was in the
Girl Guides—I’m always prepared,” she replied, mopping up the
sticky drink. “So come on then, tell us a bit about this Ewan. What
does he do? And more importantly, what does he look like?”

“He’s an actor
and he’s not bad-looking at all.”

“Oh? Anyone we
would have heard of?” Jess asked. Nora had dated actors before—bit
part players she’d come across at the various premiers she got to
attend in her role as cinema manager for the Movie Max chain. Jess
had always found them to be a bit self-absorbed for her liking.

“His name’s
Ewan Reid.”

There was a split second’s silence as Jess
and Brianna digested the name that had just been dropped in a big
way. Then both girls screeched, “EWAN REID! As in
The Suburban
Man
star Ewan Reid!”

All heads
swivelled their way to see what all the excitement was about.
“Shush, you two! Honestly, you’re worse than a pair of star-struck
tweenies. Yes, Ewan Reid, star of smash hit film
The Suburban Man
.” Then Nora broke into uncontrollable
giggles and wrapping her arms around herself, gave away her own
excitement. “And he’s absolutely fecking GORGEOUS!”

“What’s he like
in real life, how did you meet him, and more to the point, how come
it’s taken you so bloody long to tell us? We’re supposed to be your
best friends, for goodness’ sake!” Jess shrieked, now on her second
wine, having downed what was left of the first one in one large
gulp at the shock of it all.

“I’m sorry. I
really, really wanted to tell you but I didn’t want to jinx it. I
felt like if I said the words, ‘I have a date with Ewan Reid’ out
loud, I’d wake up and find I had dreamt the whole thing. To be
honest, girls, I could hardly believe it myself when he asked me
out. I mean, he’s a movie star and I’m, well, I’m…”

“You’re Nora
Brennan, gorgeous, successful career woman,” Brianna put in
loyally. “So come on then, tell us—how did you meet him? Was it in
a book shop? I saw him interviewed on Graham Norton a few weeks
back and he said that he’s an avid reader.”

“
No, you eejit, that was in the
movie
Notting
Hill
and anyway, he’s
far better-looking than Hugh Grant, and I am hardly Julia Roberts.”
Nora laughed. “We met at the after party for the Irish premiere
of
The
Suburban Man
. Honestly,
girls, he is lovely and so normal—not at all like some of those
other affected actor arses I’ve been out with in the past.
Apparently he asked his agent, Maria, to find out who I was and
introduce us. We got talking and basically didn’t stop talking all
night. He even ignored that skinny cow, the one who looks a bit
like Victoria Beckham, from
Big Brother
when she came over and tried to stick her set of tennis
balls under his nose!”

“He didn’t!”
Brianna’s eyes were like saucers. “Ooh, she wouldn’t have liked
that.”

“She didn’t.”
Nora looked pleased with herself as she glanced down at her own
pair of natural 34C cups. “I’ve always said a boob job won’t get
you anywhere in this world.”

“Maybe but it
would be nice if mine didn’t have such an up-close and personal
relationship with my belly button these days—bloody breastfeeding,”
Brianna lamented.

“So what did
you talk about then?” Jess wanted details, details, details; it was
the writer in her.

“Well, it turns
out he’s a bit of an adrenaline junkie, like me.”

“Nora!” she
couldn’t help but exclaim. “The only remotely adventurous thing I
have ever seen you do is a spot of rock climbing at Clondalkin
Leisure Centre when we went there for Harry’s birthday last year.
That hardly even counts as abseiling, let alone as an adrenaline
rush.”

Nora’s
expression grew petulant. “The instructor said I was a natural and
for your information, I’ve always wanted to go white-water
rafting.”

“Come on you
two, we can talk about Nora’s penchant for thrill-seeking at home.
I need to get Harry back for his tea and there’s a packet of
chicken sausages with your names on it sitting in my fridge.”
Brianna got to her feet and began helping Harry back into his
coat.

At the mention
of food, Jess and Nora suddenly realised they were ravenous and
followed suit with Nora talking non-stop about the delectable Mr
Reid and what she would like to do to him all the way back to
Brianna’s.

***

“Thanks for a
lovely afternoon and for the sausages,” Nora called, picking her
way down the darkened garden path later that evening. She cursed as
she narrowly missed tripping over Jerome the Garden Gnome the girls
had bought Brianna and Pete as a housewarming gift on her way to
the front gate. “If I have a headache in the morning, it will be
all down to you, Brianna Price!” she tossed back over her
shoulder.

“Don’t worry. I
am sure all that protein you’re eating will soak up the alcohol!
And I don’t recall having to twist your arm to open that second
bottle of vino. Be sure and ring me, won’t you, after your big
date?”

“Of course I
will.”

“Don’t do
anything I wouldn’t do! And for goodness’ sake, buy yourself some
De-Gas pills!”

There was a
snorting sound followed by something unmentionable from the
footpath and Brianna giggled.

“Easy for you
to laugh when you’re not the one having to sit next to her on the
train for the next thirty minutes,” Jess muttered. “I couldn’t
believe the one she dropped in the Dart on the way back from
Greystones. The poor chap opposite us looked like he was going to
pass out and then she had to go out and make out it was down to me!
Typical Nora—she always looks like butter wouldn’t melt in her
mouth.” She finished shaking her head before making the
arrangements for Tuesday morning. They’d meet up at St Stephen’s
Green for a spot of serious shopping after Brianna had dropped
Harry at the little Catholic school he’d started back in
January.

***

It was later that night as Jess sat curled
up on her couch that she realised Brianna had indeed given her an
idea for her column. She would be going on a double date with a
Hollywood Movie Star, so why not write about what it was like to
hang out with a celebrity in Dublin? Pleased the pressure to come
up with something pronto was off, she began idly channel surfing
and it was then that she spotted
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
lying on the coffee table where
she’d left it. Picking the little book up, she opened the cover and
gazed thoughtfully at the names scribbled inside it. She was
getting that tingly sensation she always got when the seeds of a
potentially brilliant idea for her column began to
germinate.

“Does my bum
look big in this?” Jess wondered how many conversations she had
started over the years with that sentence whilst trying on clothes
with Brianna or Nora—too many to be counted on one hand, that was
for sure! It was ten thirty on a Tuesday morning and the two women
were holed up in the changing room of the third exclusive boutique
clothing shop they’d happened upon in the labyrinth of streets
surrounding the city’s main shopping hub of Grafton Street.

She had come to
the conclusion that the less a shop had in it, the more hideously
expensive the little it did have dangling from its rails was likely
to be and the more skinny and hoity-toity the shop assistant was
likely to be. Another reason she preferred charity shops—the people
who worked in them were genuine, kind-hearted souls who quite often
volunteered their time, not like Shop Girl No. Three.

When Jess had audibly gasped at the price
tag hanging off the dress she was currently wearing, the
underweight little madam had told her, “Well,
it is
Italian.” She’d left the
what did you expect, you South
Pacific commoner?
to
hang in the air unsaid between them.

“No, not at
all.” Brianna answered her friend’s question in a pitch just high
enough to bring her back to the present and to let her know that
she was telling a little white lie. She smiled to herself, thinking
that if it had been Nora who was with her, she’d have said
something along the lines of, “Good God, yes! Get it off before you
split the arse out of it!”

As she wriggled
her way out of the fitted green dress that had looked absolutely
perfect on the hanger, she couldn’t help but sigh—it was bloody
hard work, all this getting dressed and undressed business. She
wished she hadn’t opted to wear her old Levi’s because it would
have been much easier had she donned a sack suitable for whipping
on and off.

“Was the
garment to madam’s liking?” The angular redhead standing behind the
counter studying her blood red talons sniffed when she emerged from
the cubicle, clutching the dress.

She tapped her
own un-manicured nails on the counter until the woman finally
looked up with her bored expression firmly in place.

“Nah, it
wasn’t,” Jess drawled in her best put-on Aussie accent, “’Cos it
made madam’s arse look humongous.” She tossed the dress down on the
counter and stalked out the door.

Brianna hurried
after her, sniggering. “Did you see her face?” She linked her arm
through Jess’s.

“Snooty
so-and-so. I reckon that plumy English accent was a put-on. I am
ninety-nine percent sure I could detect Liverpool undertones
creeping in! Anyway, it was probably a good thing the dress didn’t
look right, otherwise I’d have had to of taken out a second
mortgage to pay for it.”

“Mmm, you’re
right; it was on the pricey side. Why don’t we try good old
Debenhams instead?” Brianna suggested as they turned the corner
back onto Grafton Street.

“Okay. I
usually have far more luck at the Goodwill Thrift Shop on Capel
Street, though, but if you recommend Debenhams, then Debenhams it
is. Although I don’t know why I’m going to all this bother of
trying to find a new dress anyway because I bet you this friend of
Ewan Reid’s will probably be the Beast to his Beauty.”

“So what if he
is? At least you’ll get to go out on a Friday night looking
gorgeous—I can’t remember the last time I got dolled up for a night
out.”

Jess was about
to make a mental note to offer her babysitting services when she
was distracted by the strains of a Coldplay tune. “I love that
song,” she said, elbowing her way through the semi-circle of people
gathered round the busker who’d set himself up outside Marks and
Spencer’s. He had a mouth organ and a guitar and was doing a
surprisingly good rendition of “Clocks” despite the lack of a
piano. The girls clapped along with the rest of his audience when
the song came to an end and flicked him a couple of coins before
making their way down to Debenhams’ Henry Street shop.