Page 105 of The Happy Hour
Jess copied her mum, blowing on her drink and watching the ripples spread across the surface. ‘I’m going to have to convince him to give us a chance.’
‘Exactly. And you can tell him – though I get the feeling he’s discovering this for himself right about now – that it’s not easy to forget Jessica Peacock, once she’s in your life.’
‘Not easy is the understatement of the century,’ Graeme added, coming round the island to pull Jess into a hug. ‘It is, frankly, downright impossible.’
‘Thank you.’ Jess leaned into her dad’s embrace, overwhelmed by the comfort it gave her.
‘We love you very much,’ her mum said. ‘I hope you know that.’
Jess swallowed. ‘I do.’ She felt as open as the sunflower clock on the wall behind her, letting in the light that Edie and Graeme were shining on her, and not, for once, trying to close up and protect herself from it. ‘I love you, too.’ It felt like an easy truth, and Jess wondered why it had taken her so many years to admit it.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
It’s Felicity’s house sale on Saturday if you’re about. It wouldn’t be happening without you, and I know Felicity would love to see you. I would too, of course – that goes without saying. Jess. xx
The message sat on her phone, unanswered. She’d sent it on Tuesday evening, when she’d got back to her flat after seeing her parents, her stomach full of chicken fajitas that her dad had cooked with an expertise that had surprised her. The whole visit had surprised her, and it had made her think that, ifshecould lower her walls and be more open, then perhaps Ash could, too.
But now it was Saturday, and Braden was warming up his voice in the corner of Felicity’s living room, which was in a state of organised chaos that was entirely different to the piles of clutter Jess had been greeted with all those weeks ago. Early morning sunlight streamed in through the French doors, which had been cleaned and polished in preparation for today, highlighting the period features: the solid fireplace, the cornicing, the forget-me-not wallpaper below the dado rail.
There was brightly coloured bunting hanging above the front door, the beautiful white rose bush next to it was covered in delicately scented blooms, and the hallway was bright and welcoming, the black-and-white tiled floor –
a feature Jess hadn’t even noticed until today – uncovered and gleaming. Felicity had suggested that Kirsty bake her muffins in the kitchen, and while Jess had been concerned about the cleanliness, and whether any of the neglected appliances even worked any more, it seemed Felicity had had the oven serviced, and the whole house smelled of chocolate and vanilla, of slowly rising batter and strong, steaming coffee.
Of the cats, only Twiggy was curled up asleep on the clutter-free sofa, unconcerned that his house was about to be invaded by strangers. Bond and Artemis were nowhere in sight.
Jess rearranged the wooden boxes, trinket dishes and brass ornaments on the display next to hers, then moved to her own table. The spacious living room had four of these mini-stalls, with more in the back garden, and even though this was about selling Felicity’s unwanted possessions, she had insisted Jess had a stand of her prints, too.
There were a lot of items in this displaced, scaled-down version of the market that could make good money, as long as they had enough interest, but Roger had already agreed to help Felicity sell whatever was left over, and Jess – after Lola had planted the idea – was thinking of this more as a party, a celebration of everything Felicity had achieved. Even if nobody came, or they only made ten pounds, it was already a success.
Because of that, Jess had made an effort, wearing her black, bee-print dress, and styling her hair in tousled waves. She had done it for Felicity, andnotbecause she believed Ash should be here – though of course he should be – or that she was holding onto a glimmer of hope that he might turn up, despite not replying to her message.
She picked up her latest design. It was a photo of the cherry trees in Greenwich Park, two neat rows standing guard either side of the wide walkway that was perfect for strolling along. Down the middle she’d added, in a bold pink font:Hanging onto things for too longwill hold you back – unless you’re dangling over theedge of a cliff, in which case hold on tight!She was trying to take it to heart.
‘OK?’ Lola stopped in front of her table, violin in hand. Her blonde hair was loose around her shoulders, her eye make-up dramatic. ‘These are going to sell like hot cakes.’
‘I hope so.’ Jess forced a smile. ‘You all prepared?’
‘Yeah, just waiting for Spade to decide which of his many guitars will be in the spotlight today.’ She rolled her eyes fondly. ‘Sure you’re doing all right?’
‘Of course,’ Jess said. ‘But Ash should be here.’
‘I know he should. Have you heard from him at all?’
‘Not a peep. I know that being here, helping Felicity, wasn’t easy for him, even though he hid it most of the time.’ She’d made the connection a couple of days after their fight at her flat, the way Felicity’s ex-husband’s behaviour had mirrored Ash’s dad’s – leaving to travel the world while his family were discarded. It had made sense of the moment in Felicity’s back garden, and so many other, tiny, things: his clenched jaw, the occasional distant looks, the way his kisses, after their Sundays here, had seemed desperate, somehow.
‘I am very sorry Ash isn’t here.’ Jess jumped. She hadn’t noticed Felicity come up behind her. ‘I wouldn’t have got here without him, or you. Or some other people.’ She gestured at Spade, dressed in leather trousers and a Garfield T-shirt, his chosen guitar a glittering red. ‘But it’s still early, and you shouldn’t give up hope.’
Jess nodded, her eyes darting to the doorway into the hall.
‘You both need to have one of Kirsty’s muffins before they all go,’ Felicity went on, holding out a plate. ‘These are bacon and maple syrup, and they taste as divine as they smell.’ She forced Jess and Lola to each take one, then sashayed through her living room, talking to everyone who had turned up to support her.
‘She’s amazing,’ Lola murmured.
‘The most amazing,’ Jess agreed, and took a huge bite of her muffin. Maybe if she ate enough of them, she would stop feeling quite so hollow.
An hour later, and there were a few strangers milling about, browsing the items for sale, eating muffins and drinking coffee from mismatched mugs, while the Misfits played a surprisingly mellow set. Roger was standing at the large table in the bay window, in charge of Felicity’s considerable collection of jewellery, and was fielding the most interest from visitors.
‘The problem,’ Susie said, ‘is that TikTok is international. You can’t really focus promotion on a particular location, so even if a hundred thousand people saw the promo about today, not many of them will be close enough to come.’
