Page 8 of The Happy Hour
‘The real owner might come back for it.’
‘Good point.’ He put it in the cutlery stand. ‘After you.’
Jess wove through the tables and pushed open the café door, stepping out into the sunshine, Ash close behind her. They stood on the pavement facing each other, even though it was narrow and busy, and she heard at least one person make a pointed comment aboutpeople beingaware of what’s around them.
‘So,’ she said. ‘Next Sunday.’
‘Next Sunday,’ Ash repeated. ‘Midday at No Vase Like Home.’
She nodded. ‘Thanks for coffee.’
‘You’re welcome.’ His hand hovered for a second, then he squeezed her shoulder. She could feel the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of her dress. ‘Thanks for agreeing to it.’
‘I hardly ever turn down coffee,’ she said, then winced. ‘I didn’t mean that – that I only agreed because—’
‘I know,’ Ash said gently. Another glance at his watch, and he clenched his jaw. ‘I need to go.’
‘OK.’ Jess wouldn’t ask again where he was going. He might tell her next week, anyway.Next week.She had agreed to this stranger absorbing another hour of her time with hardly any protest, with so few questions to herself about whether it was a good idea. ‘See you Sunday.’
‘I’m already looking forward to it.’ He gave her a final smile, and she watched him weave through the crowd for a moment, then turned in the direction of the market, hunching slightly against the wind. She wasn’t quite sure what had happened. She didn’t accept coffee with strangers; she had more than enough people in her life to be going on with. But Ash Faulkner, good citizen, pigeon magnet and all-round charmer, had woven some kind of spell around her, and now she knew how much bigger his hand was than hers because, for a few tingling seconds, she’d had it wrapped around her own. Already, she knew she wouldn’t mind it happening again.
Chapter Three
By the time Jess got to Lola and Malik’s flat, the sun had given up and the temperature had dropped, reminding her that the year hadn’t fully shaken off the last traces of winter. She wasn’t sure whether to tell Lola about her coffee with Ash, and their plans to meet up again. This would be big news, and Jess didn’t know if she was ready for the full force of her best friend’s excitement.
Lola answered the door, tendrils of her long blonde hair falling down either side of her face like curtains framing a beautiful view.
‘Hey,’ she said, breathlessly.
‘Am I interrupting something, or...?’ Jess raised her eyebrows, but Lola scoffed and turned round, heading back into the flat and clearly expecting Jess to follow.
Their living room was a haven of soft furnishings, the two rather threadbare sofas hidden beneath a sea of brightly coloured scatter cushions, most of which had been bought at the market. Malik, Lola’s lanky, bespectacled boyfriend was jiggling up and down in front of the TV, playing one of his favourite shoot-’em-up video games, the sound turned low so that the gunshots were quiet, which somehow made them more sinister.
‘Hey, Jess,’ he said, barely looking up.
‘We’re getting our Fitbit targets,’ Lola explained. ‘He’s been sitting down all day, so now he’s trying to hit his ten thousand steps.’
Jess laughed. ‘You could both – I don’t know – just go for a walk? Not thatyouneed any more steps, I’m guessing. You were working earlier, weren’t you?’
‘Yup. Sunday lunch shift, always a delight.’ Lola went into the kitchen, filling and then flicking on the kettle. ‘Tea?’
‘I’d love one.’ Jess followed her and leaned against the kitchen counter. ‘The market’s filling up with tourists now, so I expect the Gipsy Moth is the same.’
Lola worked at the pub closest to theCutty Sark, which had a large, outside veranda looking out over the British clipper and the concrete foreshore that ran down to the river, a gloomy interior and a menu that stretched to several pages. It was always busy with a combination of locals and tourists, which meant that Lola rarely got a quiet shift.
‘It was non-stop,’ she replied, tipping her head back on a half-groan. ‘There was a family of fifteen, four generations, from newborn baby to crinkly old great-grandma, behaving as if we were a Michelin-star restaurant. Could we supply them with jugs of iced, filtered water and gluten-free bread?’
Jess smothered a laugh. ‘Gluten-free options are pretty standard these days. So is water.’
Lola’s lips twitched. ‘Yeah, well, my patience was frayed by that point. Thenone of the women suggested it would have been nice if the napkins had been shaped like swans. I couldn’t decide if she was winding me up, or if she was genuinely going to give us a two-star review on Tripadvisor for our serviette oversight.’
‘And, after all that, you’re adding to your twenty thousand steps by prancing up and down in front of the TV with Malik, who isn’t even paying attention to you.’ Jess tapped her fingers against her lips. ‘Who lives in the flat below you again?’
‘We werebothplaying that game before you arrived. He’s switched to single-player mode now you’re here, like a good boyfriend.’ Lola grinned.
Jess liked to pretend that she was mad her best friend had found her person, but Malik was genuinely lovely: quietly geeky, unwaveringly patient, and committed to Lola 100 per cent. He had a well-paid job doing something in computer tech that she didn’t understand – she wasn’t sure Lola did, either – but mostly Jess loved that Lola was so happy, and had only been mildly miffed when it had meant, a few years ago, that she’d had to find somewhere else to live.
Lola and Malik had bothsaid she could move into Malik’s two-bedroom flat with them, but who wanted a third wheel rolling around their love nest on a daily basis? And who wanted tobethat wheel, constantly walking in on moments of affection, always being in the way?
