Page 55 of The Happy Hour
you said?
I offered Friday night, actual FRIDAY NIGHT, when I should be out getting drunk, and he said no because he wants his Sunday paper and coffee combo.
There’s no pleasing some people.
Then, Jess couldn’t help adding:
You go out and get drunk with a whole crowd of banker friends on Fridays? I wouldn’t have thought that
about you.
I don’t really. Sometimes I have a few pints with the personnel team. Mostly I stay in by myself and fire up Netflix. A sad indictment of my life.
You could ask Mack if he wants to Netflix and chill, then get his Sunday paper just before you come here, and see if that appeases him.
I AM still getting his Sunday paper, but that’s not enough. I am too young and stupid for my own good – his words. He knows how to flatter me. Also, how am I going to scrub that Netflix and chill image from my head, Jess?
Sorry.??Why not imagine it’s not Mack, but someone else with the Netflixing and the chilling?
Who would you suggest?
No clue. Sure you can think of someone.??xx
Jess often spent Thursday tidying the shop, checking orders and stock levels. It was never as busy as Fridays or the weekend, but sales of their smaller items were consistent – the paperweights and candles that weren’t a big financial investment, the dinkier vases which – due to it being in the shop’s name – there were a lot of. But today was the (very soft) launch of Jess’s motivational prints, so there was no calm tidying, no checking of stock levels.
‘I can’t believe I didn’t know about this,’ Wendy said for at least the fiftieth time, rearranging the framed prints on the prominently positioned shelf she’d designated for them. She had also, when Jess had told her about the plan they had all concocted, decided that whatever profits Jess was giving to Enzo, she would match. She said it shouldn’t all be on Jess’s shoulders to help Enzo out financially. Everyone was offering moral support, but it had only been Jess’s prints – so far –that had made it over the fundraising finishing line, and Wendy, as self-designated mother hen of the market,hadn’t wanted her to be the only one contributing. ‘They look wonderful here,’ she went on. ‘I’m going to buy this one for starters.’ She chuckled, then read aloud: ‘If at first you don’t succeed, try a newway of annoying your nemesis.’
‘Oh God.’ Jess pressed her hands into her eyes. ‘And Lola and Spade are coming in a minute, to prance about and play their instruments.’
Wendy laughed. ‘Prance about and play their instruments? I’ve heard them, Jess.’
‘OK, I’m not being fair. It’s a whole lot better than that.’ She tipped her head back. ‘My designs are going to be on TikTok.’
‘You say that like it’s BBC One.’
‘It has more viewers,’ Jess pointed out. ‘Can we just... I’m not sure about this one. Could we put it at the back?’ It was one of her earlier, clumsier designs, created when she had been feeling particularly grumpy, that read:Live, Love, Laugh and then Leave.She didn’t know why she’d chosen it for the shop, except it had a photo she was proud of; the river on a slate-grey morning, the water shrouded in a thin blanket of mist. She went to move it, but Wendy slapped her hand away.
‘No. No hiding anything. They’re all staying and they’re all going to sell.’
‘Shit balls,’ Jess said with feeling. ‘Why the fuck did I agree to this?’
Wendy waggled a tenner at her. ‘Stop swearing, go andget some muffins, and calm your nerves until the musicians gethere.’
Jess sighed and took the note, felt a brief surge of glee at the thought of stuffing some mini-muffins in her face, then saw Lola, Spade and Deano heading in their direction. ‘Oh God,’ she said, and then, when she saw who was with them, added, ‘What the hell?’
‘Ah. Yes.’ Wendy folded her arms. ‘Braden asked if he could come in today. He wanted to hear Spade and Lola perform; he’s actually very musical himself.’
‘He is?’ Jess said faintly. She knew that Braden was still working in the shop on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, and that Wendy thought he’d proved himself. No items had gone missing – not even any hares, sadly – and he was a hard worker. And now, here he was, hoody-clad and grinning.
‘They lookgreat,’Lola said, zeroing in on the display of Jess’s prints immediately. ‘Really professional.’
Jess sold them unframed online. She didn’t have a lot of space to store frames, and it made posting them more effort and more expensive. They were printed on glossy, good-quality photo card and that was it. But for the shop, she’d put each of her designs in a white wooden frame. People came to No Vase Like Home for trinkets and decorations, not DIY projects.
‘You’re just saying that,’ Jess mumbled to herself, but Lola heard her.
‘No, I’m not.’ She looked Jess straight in the eye. ‘You have to start believing in yourself.’
‘All talents are valid talents,’ Spade added, as he took his guitar out of its case. It was a glittering peacock blue, and Jess was drawn to it whenever he had it with him. The musicians, their cameraman and Braden had taken up the whole shop – one of the men was wearing overpowering sandalwood aftershave – and Jess felt on the verge of claustrophobia. She wondered if she could hide in the storeroom until they were done.
