Second Hand Jane Read Free

stay-up stockings. She’d
volunteered a demo on how to put them on, too, but Jess declined
the offer as sexy stockings were not really the kind of thing she
wanted to see her Mum in. Yes, indeedy, the sight of that would
have been enough to make her hoist her pantyhose as high as she
could get them for the rest of her days!
    These little
gifts were given on the annual day of romance in the hope that Jess
would use her feminine wiles to maximum capacity in order to seduce
a doctor or solicitor or some such other professional.
    Marian Baré,
you see, suffered from delusions of grandeur. She herself was
married to a carpet layer and there was absolutely nothing wrong
with that, in Jess’s opinion. Her dad was a hard worker who had
always provided for his girls, as he liked to call his wife, Jess,
and her younger sister Kelly.
    As the years
had passed, however, and she had unwrapped yet another lacy thong,
her mother had abruptly changed tack.
    “ Jessica, your father and I would be just
as happy if you married a tradesman, you know. They make good
providers and they’re
practical. That’s so important, sweetheart; I mean, a man needs to
know how to unblock a toilet or change a light bulb. Look at how
your father’s always looked after us.” Marian’s voice softened as
she thought about her obliging hubby Frank but then she’d gotten
back to the matter at hand. “Speaking of whom, your father was
saying the other day that the firm’s just taken on a new
apprentice. He’s only a year or two younger than you, which is
nothing when you think of Catherine Zeta and Michael, so perhaps
Dad could arrange for you…”
    “No way! I am
not desperate, Mum, and I haven’t forgotten that awful Jeremy you
got him to set me up with last time! And since when were you on a
first name basis with members of the Hollywood A-list?”
    “Don’t be
clever, Jessica; it doesn’t suit you. Your problem, my girl, is
that you’re too fussy for your own good because there was
absolutely nothing wrong with poor Jeremy that a dab of antiseptic
cream on his spots wouldn’t have sorted out.”
    “ Yeah, and a bottle of mouthwash, a
deodorant, anti-dandruff shampoo, and soap for that matter.
Personal hygiene issues aside, Mum, in case you haven’t noticed, we
do not live in the 1950s anymore. I don’t need a man to be happy. I
have a career of my own, from which I gain plenty of personal
satisfaction, thank you very much.” Actually, now that she thought
back on it, she had sounded a tad “And I am off to get a crew cut and stop
shaving under my arms.” No wonder her mother had begun to narrow her eyes whenever
her girlfriends popped around after that little
statement.
    At the time,
though, she had merely reiterated, “Yes, sweetheart, and we are
very proud of you. That’s why we put you through university but a
job won’t keep you warm at night, will it? Why can’t you have both?
Lots of women work and maintain a relationship. I mean, I’ve hardly
sat on my backside all these years, now have I?”
    God. She was so
frustrating and probably the main reason Jess thanked her lucky
stars for her UK ancestry, which meant she could live and work on
the other side of the world from her! She flatly refused to refer
to her daughter’s chosen line of work as a journalist as a career.
It was always referred to as a job—a means to an end until
something better came along: aka, a man. Jess gritted her teeth in
anticipation, knowing what was coming next and she was proved
right.
    “Jessica, all
your father and I want for you is to find someone to settle down with like your sister has. That’s
not too much to ask for, surely?”
    It irked Jess
the way she always included her father in the equation. It wasn’t
him who put the pressure on her to get a ring on her finger at
every opportunity. And, at the very mention of Kelly, she rolled
her eyes. Married she may be but did it count if it were to a
Martian? Okay, so he wasn’t green but he was