Page 110 of The Happy Hour
She waited at the lights for a taxi to pass, a slumped figure in the back seat on an early trip to the station, or on the way back from an epic night out. The greasy spoons were open already, the salty scent of bacon wafting into the air, the metal screech of rising shutters accompanying her as she crossed the road.
She entered the market down the side alley, where she’d watched Ash holding onto Braden all those weeks ago. There was activity at some of the food stalls, hotplates turned on and coffee machines fired up, ready for hungry workers on the way home from night shifts, desperate for a latte and a sausage sandwich.
Jess smiled and waved at the people she recognised, and wondered if, in a few months, she would know more names; if, now that she was more open to it, her market family would continue to grow.
She walked into the main space and Roger called over to her. ‘Wonderful day yesterday.’
‘It was lovely,’ she called back. ‘I know Felicity appreciated us being there.’
‘I wouldn’t have missed it: a chance to spend time with everyone away from here. I think you and I left earlier than most.’ He chuckled.
‘We’re going to be perkier than some of the others, that’s for sure. See you later!’ She waved goodbye, then walked along the side of the market, burrowing in her handbag for the keys to No Vase Like Home. Lit by the early morning sun, the shop looked fresh and sparkling – as if everything was covered in fairy dust. Her prints were colourful and enticing, and she’d noticed Wendy moving the candles the other day to give her more room.
Now Enzo was safe, Wendy had told Jess she could be a proper supplier, that she’d pay for batches of her prints upfront, and she would expect new designs on a regular basis. Jess had readily accepted, because it gave her the best of both worlds: getting to work in a place she loved, but being creative in her own right, seeing people pick up and fall in love with herdesigns. She wondered if she should branch out: create a range calledSubtle Superpowers, take the miraculous mini-skills she and Ash had come up with – that she was still coming up with – and make prints of those, too.
She bent down and picked up a hare. This one was on its hind legs, and looked ready to start a fight.
‘Areyou a witch?’ she asked, gazing into its stony eyes.
‘I might have drunk too much yesterday, but that’s a bit harsh.’
Jess spun round to find Wendy grinning from the doorway, the purple smudges under her eyes enhanced by her pallor. ‘Sorry!’ she squeaked.
Wendy waved her away. ‘You’re entitled to the moral high ground, because you left Felicity’s at a sensible time. But I will need at least three of Kirsty’s muffins today – if she’s alive – and coffees every half-hour.’
‘I can manage that.’ Jess grinned. ‘Breakfast muffin?’
‘I couldmurdera breakfast muffin.’ Wendy turned on the storeroom light and the radio. ‘And I’m sorry, about yesterday.’
Jess stopped in the doorway. ‘What did you do?’
‘No, I mean that Ash didn’t show. I had thought...’ She sighed. ‘I really thought he’d come.’
Jess swallowed. ‘Me too. Let me go and get those muffins.’
‘And a smoothie,’ Wendy called after her. ‘The greenest, healthiest-looking one. I’ll pay you back!’
The morning was busy, the warm sunshine and gentle breeze perfect for enjoying all of Greenwich’s delights, and Jess didn’t have a whole lot of time to think about hares or shop redesigns or anything else, especially with Wendy’s constant grumbling and her need to take frequent breaks away from the shop floor so she could sit down.
She’d left her propped up behind the counter, and was burrowing among the storeroom shelves for a sea-salt candle that a customer had asked for, when all the clocks struck midday. It was such a familiar sound that she barely noticed it any more, but the gentle chimes reminded her it was their time. Ithad beentheir time.
‘Jess, come out here,’ Wendy called.
‘Just a sec,’ she shouted back. ‘I’m elbow-deep in the candle box.’
‘Jessica Peacock,’ Wendy said, and Jess jumped, then turned to find her boss in the doorway.
‘What is it?’ she asked. ‘Are you feeling sick? Need another break?’
Wendy shook her head. ‘I’ll find the candle. You get out there.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I say so.’
‘You are a proper grump when you’re hungover,’ Jess said, and slipped past her boss, laughing at her consternated expression and then, stepping into the sun-bright shop, came to a stumbling stop.
The woman waiting for her candle was next to the counter, but there was someone else standing just inside the doorway. Jeans and dusty Vans, a grey T-shirt, his hair falling over his forehead. He was holding two coffee cups in a cardboard carrier.
