Page 37 of The Last Saturday In July
Her mother pulled her in for a hug, and Jess wrapped her arms around her strong, tiny frame.
After a couple of moments, Carmel stepped back and briskly rubbed Jess’s arm. ‘Maybe you can talk to your sister. I don’t know where we went wrong with her. Not a whit of sense.’ Her mother turned and headed back down to the basement kitchen.
Jess took a deep breath and shrugged out of her jacket, hanging it on the end of the banisters. Judging by how loudly Daniel O’Donnell was being played in the kitchen, her mother had found her worry of the week. She took a second to check her appearance in the mirror over the table. Unbelievably, she still looked the same. How was that even possible?
Carmel roared up the stairs. ‘She’s in the sitting room. Go and talk to her!’
Jess went into the slightly draughty sitting room with its well-worn, mismatched furniture, and threw herself down on a sofa beside Zoe.
‘Hey, what’s up?’
Zoe looked up from her phone. ‘Nothing. Mam just keeps forgetting that I’m twenty-five.’
‘Where’s Dad?’
‘Hiding in the greenhouse.’
‘It must be really bad.’
‘I’m moving in with Finn.’
Jess frowned. ‘Doesn’t he share a house with four other people?’
‘He has a double room.’
‘Oh, well then.’
Zoe glared at her. ‘We don’t all have rich fiancés who own posh flats in Dublin four.’ She glanced towards the door. ‘Is he with you?’
Jess felt a flash of guilt as she remembered why he couldn’t come. ‘No, he’s catching up on work.’
‘Good, at least we’ll be spared Mam feeding him up like a turkey in November. And poor Simon telling her how much he loves her good, plain cooking.’ Zoe smirked.
Jess said nothing. She was too tired to argue and the part of her brain that was still working kept replaying Adam’s kiss. Discussing Simon felt icky.
Zoe looked up after a minute.
‘I can’t live at home forever.’
‘I know.’ Jess studied her as she returned to her phone.
Sprawled beside her, her younger sister looked about eighteen. Fine-boned and slender, Zoe had always been able to eat whatever she wanted and not put on weight, and her long blonde tresses never frizzed like Jess’s coarser, darker hair. Jess wondered if she knew how beautiful she was but, if Zoe knew, she didn’t care. She was the least vain person Jess had ever met.
‘Can you afford it?’ she asked.
Zoe shrugged. ‘I work for a studio, Jess. I won’t get rich taking photos of brides and babies, but it’s steady money. And I’m not exactly high maintenance.’
‘What about Finn? How’s his job going?’
Zoe shot her a scornful look. ‘He’s a waiter in a private club. What do you think?’
‘He’s heard nothing back from the Arts Council?’
‘Not yet.’ Zoe sounded a bit flat.
‘Say if they turn him down?’ When Zoe said nothing, Jess added, ‘I know they’re really good, but it might be difficult to get Arts Council money to do a new tour with his troupe.’
Zoe turned to face her, tucking one black-denim leg under her on the sofa. ‘Maybe you could do something for him.’
