Page 77 of The Happy Hour
‘I could sell a lot of it, and help Enzo in the process,’ Felicity went on. ‘Roger’s given me some advice about the best antiques dealers and vintage shops, but there’s just so much of it.’
‘What are you thinking?’ Ash sat on the sofa, and Artemis moved across the cushion and lay next to him, his big, furry body stretched out along Ash’s side.
‘I’m still pondering.’ Felicity tapped her lips. ‘You know, Richard leaving all those years ago might have been a blessing in disguise.’
‘Really?’ Jess laughed. She glanced at Ash, expecting to share her incredulity with him, but his jaw was tight, his gaze trained on where he was stroking the large tabby, over and over. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because if I hadn’t ended up like this, I would never have found you or Ash, or... everyone else at the market.’
‘Everyone else?’ Jess grinned as Felicity’s cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink. She thought there was one person in particular she was referring to.
‘Everyoneelse,’ Felicity repeated. ‘The world works in mysterious ways.’
‘It certainly does,’ Jess said.
‘What about right after he left you?’ Ash asked. ‘All those years in between? You can’t have been happy.’ He gestured around the room. ‘He ruined your life.’
Jess knew he was trying to keep his voice level, but she could hear it – the way it frayed at the edges, his anger visible in the tight line of his shoulders.
‘Ash, darling.’ Felicity crouched in front of him and put a hand on his arm. ‘Nobody gets through unscathed, do they? But I can spend this time lamenting all the years he took from me – that I lethim take from me – or I can focus on how things are now. With your help, I’m getting myself together, finding ways to be happy, people to be happy with. I’m very much looking on the bright side.’
‘You’ve been so strong,’ Ash told her, then glanced at Jess. ‘You both have.’ His anger had gone, and now he just looked hollow.
Felicity patted his knee. ‘But I wouldn’t have been, without both of you. Think of all you have to be grateful for, and whatever’s left – whatever is still hurting you – let it fade into the background as much as possible.’
He sighed, but it was accompanied by a smile. ‘I wish it was that easy.’
‘One day it will be.’ Felicity stood up. ‘Now, do you think I can sell this hideous candelabra, or is it fit only for the scrapheap?’
They didn’t get a chance to be alone until they’d left Felicity’s house, carrying armfuls of items to take to the bins at the end of the road.
‘I see the rugby went well,’ Jess said, when their arms were empty and the bins were full. She stroked her thumb gently over the red line above Ash’s left eyebrow. He flinched, then leaned into her touch.
‘It was a rough game,’ he said. ‘I have aches in muscles I’d forgotten existed.’
‘I wish I could kiss it better.’
‘Me too,’ he murmured.
‘I finish work at four thirty on Sundays. You could stay in Greenwich, come and meet me afterwards? If your... thing is done by then?’
‘It will be, but I can’t. I have work tomorrow, so I need to get home tonight. But I could see you on Friday again?’
‘I’d like that.’ She didn’t push, didn’t offer to come up to central London and meet at his place on her days off. Instead she kissed him, ran her hand through his hair and watched him walk away from her towards some unknown mission, as she’d done every Sunday since the day they met.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
That week Jess felt supercharged. She was the perfect saleswoman in No Vase Like Home on Monday, even selling some of the hated hares and their new, equally sinister owl friends, with a smile on her face. On Tuesday and Wednesday, she got fully up to date with her overflowing Etsy orders, and started to think of some new designs.
She and Ash messaged constantly, and she began to imagine how the next few months might go. Friday nights spent with him, Saturday breakfasts – she could make him scrambled eggs and bacon, or they could eat croissants in bed (as long as she remembered to hoover up the pastry flakes), and then Sundays helping Felicity, who was becoming more confident every week.
On Thursday morning, Wendy messaged to say she had to drop one of her teenagers off at the airport, so Jess opened the shop, made herself a coffee and surveyed the shelves. She indulged in tidying what was left of her latest batch of prints, turning them all outwards, putting her favourites at the front. She realised she was humming tunelessly and went to turn on the radio, to add music to the July sunshine. Outside, the stalls were already buzzing with customers, and she felt open to anything – ready to embrace what the day had to offer.
She heard the shop door open, heard someone say, ‘This is them,’ so she came out of the storeroom and stepped behind the counter.
A young couple, dressed in T-shirts and shorts and carrying smoothies in see-through plastic cups, were over by her print display.
‘The ones from TikTok?’ the woman asked.
