Page 35 of The Happy Hour
‘Perfect.’ Jess put it on the flagstones, and Felicity opened it.
‘Can I help?’ Jess asked.
‘Could you show me how to set it up? I have an outdoor tap over here that we could connect it to.’
‘You don’t need that,’ Jess told her. ‘It has a built-in water tank, so once you’ve filled it for the first time, it will just cycle through. It’s not going to use a huge amount.’
‘Wonderful,’ Felicity said. ‘Come on then – let’s get to it!’
Jess read out the instructions, then helped Felicity attach the pump and the water tank, making sure it was all secured properly, while a blackbird dug worms out of the long grass.
She had seen tiny chinks in Felicity’s armour whenever she’d been in the shop: her frayed hems, the slight dishevelment, but she’d never once imagined she’d be living like this. It was clear that the house was going to remain the unmentioned elephant in the room, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t come at it sideways.
‘How long have you lived here?’ she asked.
‘Twenty-seven years,’ Felicity said. ‘Twenty-three of those on my own. With my cats, of course.’
Jess hadn’t seen any of the cats yet. She swallowed, wishing she’d brought a bottle of water with her. It was awful to think it, but she wasn’t sure she’d want a cup of tea from Felicity’s kitchen.
‘Are any of your cats twenty-three?’ Jess widened her eyes, trying to find some levity.
‘No, dear.’ Felicity chuckled. ‘But I’ve never been without one. Not since – not for a long time.’
‘That’s good.’
‘I don’t know what I’d do if they weren’t here.’
Jess tried, and failed, to stop her mind straying down horrifying pathways. Were the other rooms in the house as bad as the ones she’d seen? Did the cats bother to come outside to relieve themselves? Did Felicity even care? And how – how could shenotcare about what was happening in her hallway and kitchen? How did she justify it to herself?
‘And you... you’re happy, living here?’ she tried.
There was a beat of silence. She looked up to see Felicity scrutinising her. ‘I know it’s not the tidiest house,’ she said, ‘but I’ve been so busy recently. I simply haven’t had the time to keep things pristine. Life, you know. It gets in the way.’
Jess was incredulous. Was this really what she thought? But then, what could she say?Felicity, I’m terriblysorry but you’re living in a death trap. You’re in complete denial. You need help.She didn’t know her well enough to say these things, so instead she said, ‘Of course. It’s a beautiful property. And so close to the park, too.’
‘Indeed,’ Felicity said. ‘Now, where does this cable go?’
Jess checked the instructions and got back to work.
Once there was a soothing bubble of water flowing over the globe at the centre of the sculpture, Jess hovered, her hands in the pockets of her dress. Should she ask for a drink, then try and get Felicity to open up? Should she request a tour of the house, so she could see how bad it was? Or should she say nothing, go back to the shop, and ask Wendy what to do? Her boss was bound to have some kind of solution.
An image of her mum flashed into her head, with her soft brown curls and green-framed glasses, saying:You can cometo me about anything, Jess. Nothing is off limits.But it was: itwas.And in the last couple of years, the distance between them had grown, and Jess felt as if she could barely speak to her mum about anything.
‘This was incredibly kind of you,’ Felicity said. ‘I know you have to get back to work, but you’re always welcome to come for tea – whenever you want to. It’ll give me an excuse to have a bit of a tidy up.’
‘I’d love that,’ Jess said, trying not to collapse in nervous laughter at the thought of Felicity having abit of a tidy up. ‘Thank you, Felicity. And come to the shop again soon. We’ve got some new stock arriving in the next couple of days.’ It felt important to keep the connection with her, now she’d seen what was going on.
‘Of course,’ Felicity said. ‘I’m always on the lookout for new pieces.’
Her lips clamped firmly shut, Jess let the older woman lead her, hopscotch style, to the front door, with its cheery yellow paint and glass panels.
On the doorstep, she turned. ‘See you soon, I hope.’
Felicity nodded, and the look she gave her might have been a whisper of desperation or plea for help, or simply a silent request for Jess not to judge her. ‘See you soon, Jessica. Thank you again.’
‘Any time.’ She squeezed Felicity’s thin arm.
As she walked back to the market, past all those beautiful houses, the wealth evident in every blooming hanging basket and sleek car parked outside, she felt physically unburdened – without her awkward box – but emotionally weighed down. She had three distinct thoughts running through her head. One: she understood, now, why Felicity had never bought her coveted mirror. There was no place for it in that house. Two: Felicity needed help, but Jess was almost 100 per cent sure that she wasn’t the one to give it. Three: if this was what happened to an intelligent woman after two decades of living alone – a beautiful house turned into a hoarding nightmare, cats that were probably buried under piles of stuff with mice or rats or God knew what else – was that going to beherfuture, too?
