Page 23 of The Happy Hour
‘Oh my God!’ Lola was almost vibrating. ‘Thank you. Thank you!’ She hugged him, almost knocking his hat off in her excitement. Then she hugged Enzo, who let out a surprised chuckle, then she hugged Jess. ‘OK, mission aborted. I need to go home and work on my piece, turn it into a duet. This is going to beamazing!’
‘Here.’ Spade reached inside his jacket and pulled out, of all things, a business card ‘Want any input on the composition, just give me a shout.’
Lola held the card to her chest as if it was a shimmering diamond. ‘I will,’ she squeaked. ‘I’ll be in touch.’
They said their goodbyes, and Lola dragged Jess to the opposite side of the market. ‘You didn’t tell me you had arock legendhere!’
Jess laughed. ‘Had you even heard of him, or House of Cards, five minutes ago?’
‘That’s not the point. I’m going to go home and look them up on YouTube. And anyway, he issocool. I’m levelling up, Jess – I see viral TikToks in our future.’
‘That would be incredible,’ Jess conceded. ‘And Spade’s a good guy, even if he is a market ghoul. So filming’s being delayed?’ She tried not to sound too relieved.
‘Until I’ve changed my composition,’ Lola said. ‘Want to come and watch old House of Card gigs with me?’
‘As tempting as that sounds, I have a couple of errands to run.’ She also needed to grab hold of the idea that had fluttered into her head while they were talking to Spade. ‘I want to pop in and see Wendy, too.’
‘Going into No Vase Like Home on your day off?’ Lola raised an eyebrow. ‘What a surprise.’
‘Hey. I wouldn’t evenbehere today if it wasn’t for you.’
‘Fine,’ Lola said. Then a slow, catlike smile spread across her face. ‘I amsoglad we came when we did. This is going to be epic, Jessica Peacock.’
‘It was always going to be,’ Jess said, ‘with you at the helm.’
‘Next Thursday,’ were the words that greeted Jess when she walked into the shop two minutes later. Felicity was standing next to the vase of unwanted rainbow twigs, wearing a coral-coloured dress and flat sandals, looking like she had just come from a garden party at Buckingham Palace.
‘Hi, Felicity.’ Jess looked past her, but couldn’t see Wendy. ‘How are you?’
‘Very well, thank you. Next Thursday, if that’s all right with you?’
‘If – uh, if what’s all right?’
‘The water feature,’ Felicity said. ‘You’re going to bring it to my house.’ She was wringing her hands, her face serene but her body full of nervous energy.
‘Of course,’ Jess said. ‘I’m working next Thursday, so as long as Wendy lets me escape for half an hour, then I’ll carry it round. Except...’ She was here right now, and by helping Felicity on her day off she wouldn’t be leaving her boss alone in the shop. ‘We could do it today, if you fancied?’
The older woman shook her head. ‘It’s not convenient.
I’m not... I need to prepare everything. Make sure the garden is ready.’
Jess held back a smile. She could tell Felicity was very particular about things, so this need to plan everything in advance didn’t surprise her. It reminded her a little of her mum.
Edie Peacock, who was a lot younger and more vivacious than her old-fashioned name suggested, collected sunflowers: ceramic sunflowers attached to cutesy-looking milkmaids on plinths; glass paperweights with sunflower designs in the bottom; sunflower mugs and jugs and cushions; sunflower bedding. When Jess was growing up, their house had been a canvas for the large yellow blooms with chocolate-coloured middles. In summer, vases of real ones adorned the living room and kitchen, their oversized heads drooping after a few days. But Edie treated every one, real or designed, as if it was precious, finding it the perfect space in her home.
Sometimes, Jess had felt that her mum cared more about the sunflowers than she did about her: as if she’d collected her too, but then discovered she wasn’t quite bright enough, didn’t fit snugly into her collection. For years, she had thought that she was imagining it, that she had imposed that attitude on Edie and Graham because she hadn’t been wanted, hadn’t belonged anywhere, before them. Because the truth was, they had treated her like their own daughter from the moment she came to live with them, all the way up until that summer afternoon two years ago when she’d overheard Edie talking to their neighbour, Celine. Right up until that moment, she had thought—
‘What time works for you?’ Felicity prompted, bringing Jess out of her daydream.
‘How about eleven?’ Jess said.
‘Eleven o’clock would be marvellous.’
As Felicity left, she gave her favourite mirror a longing glance, and Jess resisted the urge to ask her outright: if she loved it so much, then why didn’t she just buy it? Why distract herself with water features?
‘Jess!’ Wendy emerged from the storeroom, the cordless landline in her hand. ‘I was ordering more statuettes from Harbour’s. What are you doing here?’
‘Harbour’s? Not more hares. I’m starting to think you actually hate me.’
