Page 49 of The Happy Hour
‘Oh great,’ Lola said. ‘He is the definition of chillaxed. And he’s an amazing guitarist. I get the feeling he could have kept going with his career all these years, but he’d made more money than he knew what to do with, so he gave up. He’s been so generous, giving me his time and knowledge – he’s really changed things for me. So many of the comments on TikTok are excitement that Spade’s playing again. I don’t think he even realises what a favour he’s done me.’
‘Or what a favour you’re doing Enzo by using your popularity to help him,’ Jess pointed out, because Lola hadn’t pushed back once; she had instantly accepted it as something worthwhile.
‘The market’s a community, isn’t it?’ Lola said. ‘And it’s your place, Jess. You moan about it sometimes, you pretend you want to spend your life hibernating from everyone, but I can see how much you care about them all. If I can help even a little bit, then I will.’
‘It’s lovely of you, that’s all. More wine?’
Lola thrust her empty glass forward. ‘Yes please.’
Jess topped up their glasses to the gentle patter of rain against the window, the shush of tyres on wet tarmac, the faint sounds of Terence’s football match on the TV in the other room.
‘Also,’ Lola said, when her glass was full, ‘you have just come up with the bestname for us.’
‘I have?’
Lola laughed. ‘Do you not pay attention to yourself? The Market Misfits. It’s brilliant,Jess. I’m changing my TikTok handle now. Spade is going to fall off his chair in delight.’
‘The Market Misfits,’ Jess repeated. She’d said it as a joke, but now she thought about it, it was the perfect name for all of them: Lola and Spade, who were part of their group but didn’t work there; Roger, Susie, Kirsty and Enzo with their stalls; her and Wendy in the shop. Perhaps their haphazard group really could make a difference to Enzo with a few music videos and some motivational signs.
She felt a sudden sense of camaraderie, an unusual happiness at the thought of being part of something, and for the first time she wasn’t apprehensive about Ash joining their meeting on Sunday, she was actually looking forward to it. But then she always looked forward to seeing Ash. She was coming to think of him as essential to her happiness and, as much as she wished she could be braver about it, that felt like a very precarious place to be.
Chapter Eighteen
At first, Jess hadn’t believed that a violin and a guitar could work in harmony. In her mind it had always sounded discordant, the bringing together of Lola’s melodious strings and the electrical twang of Spade’s Fender. The first video had swayed her – Lola had worked her magic with the composition, and Jess had been impressed – but now, sitting on a bench outside the pub in the corner of the market, their latest live performance was shattering all her assumptions like a boot through a pane of glass.
‘Oh my God,’squealed Susie, right in Jess’s ear. ‘I can feel it in my bones!’
Jess nodded vigorously. She didn’t want to talk; she wanted to listen.
Spade was wearing a glittery silver baseball cap and a blue velvet jacket, and Lola had her blonde hair tied back in a bun, a navy jacket with large brass buttons over herWhere the Wild Things AreT-shirt, and a look of serene concentration on her face. Jess had always known her friend was talented, and had never tired of listening to her, even when she’d been part of a distinctly mediocre school orchestra. Lola had stood out, her confidence and skill palpable, treating the violin like an extension of her body and soul.
But here, standing in a small space between the picnic benches and the market stalls, with a crowd steadily gathering, she and Spade were a force of nature. Jess was sorry she’d suggested the Market Misfits – a name which they had told her they loved – because it didn’t seem right: they were musical magicians; melodious maestros. Misfits didn’t do them justice.
Lola’s composition soared to its crescendo, the sound so beautiful Jess found herself holding her breath, then the violin and guitar came tumbling down together, a thunderous finale of strings. Lola raised her bow in triumph as the final note reverberated through the market.
There was a beat of pure, stunned silence, then the applause and cheers erupted, Jess clapping above her head, Kirsty bouncing up and down from her position on one of the tables. Spade’s cameraman friend Deano was filming on his phone, even though this was a trial run.
‘If that was the practice,’ Jess said, leaning over the table so the others could hear her over the whoops, ‘then TikTok is going to have a meltdown.’
‘One hundred thousand views doesn’t seem entirely out of reach,’ Roger agreed.
‘It is amazing,’ Enzo added quietly, and Jess wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was: if the Misfits used their videos to promote the group’s fundraising ideas, then surely, soon, he would be able tostop worrying. Since their meeting on Tuesday, Jess had added five new print designs to her Etsy shop, and they were selling well – without any more marketing than she usually did. At this rate she would have to get Lola or Kirsty to come round and help her pack up orders.
The musicians put away their instruments, while customers asked them questions and showered them with praise. Eventually they extracted themselves, and Lola slid onto the bench next to Jess and accepted a coffee, her smile tinged with incredulity at all the attention. Spade sat opposite and Roger handed him a pint. It was a bright day, the light drizzle Jess had woken up to whisked off elsewhere, the intense blue sky peppered with fuzzy white clouds visible through the glass roof of the market.
‘You’re a genius, Lola,’ Kirsty said. ‘And you’re both crazy talented.’
‘When are you filming the final take?’ Susie asked.
‘After this,’ Lola said. ‘I just need to work out who’s going to be in the background, and get any additional release forms signed.’ She lifted a thin cardboard folder out of her battered leather satchel.
There were murmurs of assent round the table, and Jess said, ‘Sounds good.’ But she couldn’t stop her gaze wandering, looking for a familiar face, a head of thick dark hair in the crowd. Wendy had pushed her out of the door at twenty to twelve, clearly having had enough of her shifting things aimlessly around on the shelves and whistling tunelessly.
‘So,’ Lola said, ‘the plan is that we put up the second video today. I’ve changed my account name to the Market Misfits, so we won’t lose momentum from the first video. The market background as before, but we’ll perform most of it in front of Enzo’s stall.’
‘We could sliiiiiide aside at the end.’ Spade stretched his arms out wide.
‘Which will set things up nicely for our next performance.’ Lola grinned, cradling her mug in both hands.
