Second Hand Jane Read Free Page B

bloody greedy! As for your
reference to Irish men, think about the Corrs—three beautiful girls
to one unattractive male. And for your information, so far as
wounded birds go, I do not always date men with problems.”
    “Yes, you do.
What about that Peter—the one who didn’t know whether he liked
Arthur or Martha?”
    She cringed.
Typical, making her relieve that painful memory. It had been said
more than once that she had a tendency to gravitate toward the
problematic members of the male species and there was the teensiest
grain of truth in that, she supposed, given her dodgy track record.
Peter had issues over his sexuality and she’d been convinced she
would be the one to help him make his mind up one way or another
but apparently not—he’d dumped her for his mate Matthew. Then there
had been Simon, whose parents had divorced when he was a child and
their ensuing bitter custody battle had left him damaged goods.
Paul had followed shortly after. His former fiancée had cheated on
him and he was mistrustful of the female species to the point of
obsession. A stalker was born.
    She’d thought
she was on to a winner with Andrew the lawyer and last man she had
dated, though. Christ, for a girl who didn’t attend church, she was
following a bit of a biblical theme here. Marian had gone into a
rapturous state when she’d mentioned what he did for a living to
her but well-paid job or not, he’d managed, after only three dates,
to put her off the opposite sex for a good long while. For
starters, he began their every conversation with, “Well, if you
want to know what I think.” She didn’t but he wasn’t very good at
reading body language, i.e., rolling her eyes. However, the real
clincher had come when he asked as they got amorous on her couch
one evening whether she had any objection to being dominated in the
bedroom. The penny dropped as to what the handcuffs she had seen on
his back seat were actually for—not for restraining his criminal
clients on the way to court after all.
    Marian had
derailed her train of thought.
    “If like you
say, Jessica, and the odds are really not in your favour, then you
should come home. I’ll say no more on the subject.”
    If only she
would say no more, Jess had thought. Frustratingly, she refused to
entertain the idea that perhaps her daughter was happy in her life
and that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t want to hear the
pitter-patter of little feet in her future and that maybe, just
maybe, she was managing quite nicely without a man.
    Jess shook the
spectre of Marian Baré away and, kicking off her slippers, she went
in search of a pair of trainers.

Chapter Two
     
     
    Jess didn’t own
a car. There really wasn’t much need for one when she could walk
nearly everywhere in the city. Besides, Dublin’s roads were
congested enough without her adding to the problem. Not to mention
the fact her budget didn’t stretch to paying for a permanent car
parking space in Riverside’s underground garaging. She’d soon
learnt on arriving in the city that she could get to wherever she
needed to be faster on foot than she could in a car or on public
transport, especially come rush hour, and it kept her relatively
fit at the same time. As for all the carbon monoxide fumes she
breathed in every time she marched down the Quays—well, the Chinese
had it right with those masks they wore but she herself was far too
vain to do a Michael Jackson.
    Slamming the
main doors of Riverside Apartments shut behind her, she stared for
a moment at the steady flow of cars. Some had people half hanging
out the windows, waving flags. Obviously victorious after the
morning’s football match, she thought before setting off at a
steady pace along pavements that had seen better days. Her new
trainers were almost neon in their whiteness and she hoped they
wouldn’t give her blisters as she passed under the shadow of the
domineering Four Courts building. The bodies of those who partook
of the hard stuff and