Page 73 of The Happy Hour
‘It ischanging it,’Ash said. ‘The Queen’s House was a crap idea. Let’s go and get a drink in the Trafalgar, start again.’
Jess looked past him, to where the sun had fallen further, burning amber around the edges of the statuesque buildings. ‘But it’s obviously a big thing for you,’ she said. ‘I want you to trust me with it.’ Edie Peacock’s words from two years before echoed in her head.It’s hard to feel loved when you’renot wanted or needed.She wanted Ash to want her, to want to tell her.
‘I will,’ he said. ‘But not now.’
‘And Peggy?’
He shook his head. ‘Not now, Jess.’
Her chest tightened, her nose prickling with the telltale warning of impending tears. ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Sorry to take up your time. Have a safe journey back.’
‘What? Jess, no!’
She was already walking away, wishing that she could get swallowed up by the crowds, become invisible just like Margaret had.
‘Jess!’ Ash was following her, calling her name, and she heard him swear when he met the same wall of tourists she had, but couldn’t get through them as quickly.
She had almost reached the market when he caught up with her, his warm hand finding hers. She had been anticipating it, but his touch made her jump, and she bashed into someone with a sharp-cornered briefcase.
‘Ow!’ She bent and rubbed her shin, but Ash didn’t let go of her hand. ‘Go away, Ash.’
‘I’m not going anywhere. Are you OK?’
‘I don’t want to do this with you.’
‘And I don’t want our first real date to be this much of a disaster. I thought I’d hit a pretty low point with the stupid ghost-hunt idea, but this is... this is so much worse.’
‘So you’ll tell me where you go on Sundays, after you’ve seen me?’
He swallowed. ‘I will, I promise. But can we – can we not do that tonight? It’s fucking miserable, and I just...’ He made a low growl in his throat. ‘I need this, us, to be stronger before I land it on you.’
‘What—’
‘But I’m not a criminal,’ he said hurriedly. ‘And I’m not already married, or with someone else. It’s family shit, and I just want to have fun with you tonight.’
She couldn’t look away from him, could see nothing but honesty in his grey eyes. He was desperate, and she knew that partly because she was, too. She didn’t want to walk away from him; not really. She just hated the low, whispering voice that said she wasn’t important enough: how could she be, if he didn’t trust her with his secrets? But he’d told her he would, in time.
‘OK,’ she said, and took his other hand.
‘OK?’ He sounded as if he didn’t believe her.
‘OK.’ She stepped closer to him.
‘God, Jess—’ He bent his head, brushed his lips over hers.
‘One day soon, if we’re not careful, we’re going to get arrested.’
‘What do you suggest?’
She squeezed his hand and smiled up at him. ‘I have an idea. I hope you’re going to like it.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
They bought a bottle of cheap Prosecco at the nearest Tesco Express, and waited ten minutes for Jess’s favourite Italian restaurant to cook them a pizza with black olives and chargrilled peppers, gooey melting slabs of mozzarella, and the aroma of fresh oregano wafting off it.
‘We’re really doing this, then?’ Ash carried the pizza box in one hand, and held onto Jess with the other as they walked towards her flat.
‘We’ve kissed down by the river, in an alleyway, on several roads, next to some bins, in amongst Felicity’s clutter when she’s been in another room and then, tonight, in the doorway of a famous historic house. Before I met you, I struggled to hug my best friend in public.’
