Page 37 of The Happy Hour
‘We’ve not tasted it yet.’
‘It looks and smells great, though. The component parts.’
‘Sure.’ He sipped his beer. ‘You OK?’
She looked up. ‘Of course. Why?’
‘The questions, the ruminating. You’re being more... share-y, than usual. There’s something on your mind.’
‘There’s always something on my mind.’ She shrugged. ‘But today it is a very specific thing, and you’ve helped a lot.’
‘Great. I have no idea how, or with what, but I realised a long time ago that sometimes it’s best not to ask. Let’s get this on some plates, and see if it tastes as good as it smells.’
It did taste good: well seasoned, crunchy and satisfying, with slippery noodles underpinning it all. While they were eating it and chatting about nothing in particular, Jess wondered if Terence was right.Wasit best not to ask? To leave Felicity to get on with her way of life? The only problem was, the moment Jess had seen that hallway, she had felt, deep inside her, that the older woman inviting her there had been a cry for help. A sign that, however long she’d been hoarding for, a small part of her had had enough. Jess didn’t think she could live with herself if she didn’t try to do something about it.
Back in her room, she was restless. Lola was working at the pub, and calling Wendy out of work hours would alert her to how much this had distressed her, and would make her boss treat it with a level of importance that Jess didn’t want to give it – more for Felicity’s sake than her own. She still didn’t have Ash’s number, and the strength with which she wished she could call him and talk to him about Felicity, ask his advice, scared her. But she couldn’t, so she did the only other thing she could think of.
It was her dad who answered the phone, surprise and warmth in his voice. ‘Jess, love, how are you? Everything OK?’
‘I’m good, thanks. How about you and Mum? You’re both well?’ She sounded so formal. She waggled her shoulders, trying to shake it off.
‘We’re grand,’ he said. ‘Your mother’s on a redecorating kick. New carpets, new colours on the walls. She wants grey and blue, Duck Egg or Pea Flower Tea – there’s a colour called Pea Flower Tea, would you believe? – and she’s making noises about replacing the suite in the front room. It’s taken me twenty years to get the perfect dent in that cushion.’ He chuckled, and Jess laughed with him.
‘What about the sunflowers?’ she asked. ‘Is this... is she—?’
‘Of course not, love. Their place in this house is safer than mine. Shall I get her?’
‘Sure.’ Jess ran her finger over her laptop’s trackpad, checking the status of her Etsy orders. She had created one with Ash’s suggestion – of course she had – and only a couple of days in, it was already selling well.We all have superpowers, you just needto believe in yourself to discover yours.
‘Darling.’ Her mum’s voice had a slight echo, telling her they’d put the phone on speaker. ‘How’s No Vase Like Home? And Wendy? And lovely Lola and Malik, who we haven’t seen for ages?’ Edie Peacock liked to reassure Jess, whenever they spoke, that she hadn’t forgotten the important elements of her daughter’s life. Jess didn’t know if that was to prove how much she cared, or a subtle dig at the fact Jess didn’t let Edie in much any more.
‘Work’s great – busier now we’re getting close to summer, and Wendy’s the same as ever. Lola’s making a music video at the market, using one of her original pieces, and is getting everyone involved, unsurprisingly. Malik’s doing very... Malik-y things.’
‘That sounds exciting,’ Edie said, ‘about Lola’s music video.’
‘It is. And I’m good, too, if you were wondering.’ Shit. She hadn’t meant to say that.
There was a weighted pause. ‘Thatiswhat I was asking.’ Edie matched Jess’s firm tone. ‘I’m glad everything’s going well. We think about you a lot, don’t we, Graeme?’
‘At least once a fortnight.’ He chuckled again, trying to dispel the awkwardness.
Jess closed her eyes in frustration. It had been a mistake to call them. Since that day, almost two years ago, when she’d overheard Edie say that she wasn’t wanted, she’d hadn’t been able to think of them as her mum and dad. She’d been twenty-five at the time, and shouldn’t have relied on them much any more anyway, but it had tainted everything that had come before. All their demonstrations of love couldn’t erase what she’d learnt that day.
‘What do you know about hoarders?’ she said now. Maybe they would help her, even though she couldn’t behave like a loving, eager daughter.
‘That programme off the telly?’ her dad asked.
‘Is this about our house?’ Edie said at the same time. ‘The sunflowers? What has your dad told you? I’mdecluttering, if anything, though I do think the study could do with more soft furnishings.’
Jess rolled her eyes. ‘It’s not aboutyou, Mum, and it’s nothing to do with the TV programme, but it is the same thing as they talk about on that show. Just... in real life.’
‘Is this about you, darling? Are you worried you have a problem?’
Jess surveyed her room, everything in it comforting and necessary, meticulously tidy, down to the smallest make-up brush. She dusted every Tuesday morning, though she wouldn’t admit that to anyone.
‘No, Mum,’ she said faintly. ‘It’s someone I know through work. I had to go round to their house today, and it’s this really beautiful place near the park. They’re so elegant and proud at the shop. But when I went inside, there were stacks of things – all kinds of things – everywhere! Piled high up the walls. I saw a...’ She tried to recall the details, the things she’d noticed in the chaos: a crimper still in its box, as if Felicity had a hankering to style her hair like an Eighties disco princess; several sets of Russian dolls, all the inner dolls spilled outside their bigger friends, scattered along the kitchen windowsill, some inside saucepans; five – she had counted them – packs of thirty-two toilet rolls stacked next to the dishwasher, which had its door open, plastic bags spilling out of it like a monster spewing up its lunch. ‘I saw a whole load of batshit crazy stuff.’
Her mum made a noise of disapproval at the swearword. Jess didn’t care. Now she’d said it out loud, she felt lighter. This was no longer a secret shared by only her and Felicity, and even though she wouldn’t tell her parents who it was, and even if they couldn’t help, the mere fact of having told someone made her feel marginally better.
