Page 16 of The Happy Hour
‘Thanks. I almost missed it.’
‘Then you would have been evenlater next week.’ It had just popped out, her heart thudding along with the words, but she felt a spark of pleasure at the way Ash’s face brightened.
‘There.’ He held his arm out, his elegant watch showing a minute past one on his tanned wrist. ‘Come on, I’m going to test you.’
‘On what?’ Jess handed Ash his coffee cup, then he took her free hand, tangling their fingers together.
‘You live here, so you must have this view burned into your retinas.’ He led her to the railing at the top of the park’s main thoroughfare, in front of the statue of General James Wolfe. Below them, the lawn sloped down to the Queen’s House and the Old Royal Naval College, with the towering skyscrapers of Canary Wharf a gleaming contrast beyond. It was a magnificent view, especially with the Thames weaving through it, glittering like a sequinned serpent.
‘You’re going to test me on the landmarks?’
‘I bet you know them off by heart.’ Ash spoke softly, but his voice cut through the tourists’ chatter, and the breeze dancing through the cherry blossoms.
As she stood there, with London spread out before her, he came to stand behind her. His body wasn’t touching hers, but he was close, a wall of warmth sheltering her from the spring wind. He put their coffee cups on the low wall. ‘You have ten seconds,’ he said into her ear.
Jess felt a flash of panic and looked out across the park, then down at the illustration on the metal plaque at waist height, which had labels for all the notable buildings. She could hear Ash counting under his breath, and when he got to two, he said, ‘Ready?’
‘For what?’
He held his hands out in front of them, then brought them slowly towards her face. ‘OK? he asked.
Jess swallowed. She already knew how warm his hands were. ‘OK.’
He brought them closer, then very gently pressed them over her eyes. The darkness was tinged pink, and there was a floral scent from whichever soap he’d used last.
‘What buildings are there?’ he asked, his words gusting breath onto the back of her neck.
‘The Queen’s House, the Old Royal Naval College, the Gherkin.’
‘You need to point, too.’
‘I can’t see, Ash. How can I point?’
‘You know which direction they’re in.’
‘Fine.’ She huffed. ‘The Queen’s House, the Old Royal Naval College.’ She pointed straight ahead. ‘Then that way, there’s the Shard, the Gherkin, the Cheese Grater. St Paul’s and the London Eye right over...’ She swung her hand left. ‘Then that way,’ she pointed right, ‘is the O2 and Greenwich Power Station.’
He laughed. ‘This wasn’t challenging at all.’
‘I should have madeyoudo it,’ she said. ‘That would have been more fun.’
‘I would have managed the park,’ he replied, and a second later she could see again, her skin immediately missing the warmth of his. She blinked into the sunlight, then turned around.
‘The park isn’t a building,’ she pointed out.
‘Nor is the London Eye, technically.’
Without discussing it, they picked up their coffees and walked over to the first bench they could see, a little way down the path, away from the groups of foreign students and day-tripping families. Here, the Queen’s House and the river were shielded by trees, but above the canopy they could see the yellow spikes of the O2, and the power station’s towers.
‘I brought a muffin.’ Ash reached into his jacket pocket and took out a familiar red paper bag.
‘From Moreish!’
It was a lemon and poppy seed muffin, full of lemon cream – part of Kirsty’s summer range – and she could barely wait for Ash to tear it in half. He handed her a large piece and she bit into it.
‘Thank you,’ she said around a mouthful of sugary sponge.
‘Apology muffin, for almost not turning up.’
