Page 92 of The Happy Hour
‘Definitely not,’ Kirsty said. ‘Think about how close Enzo was to losing everything. Now his stall’s full of beautiful new pieces, Sofia’s planning on splitting her time between jewellery making and teaching for the foreseeable, Carolina’s treatment is finally working out,andshe’s going to be working with her sister. They’re all better off than they were before. So much good, from what was a horrible situation.’
‘Exactly!’ Wendy held her hand up, and Kirsty high-fived it. They both held their hands out to Jess, and she high-fived them at the same time, nodding and smiling. But the thing with Enzo was different: anyone could see that. When it came to Ash and what had happened between them, despite all the support and encouragement of her friends, she was on her own.
On Friday morning, Jess set about rearranging the shelf of hares and owls because, unlike her, their customers thought they wereadorable,magnificentandquirky, and they were selling at least three a day. Wendy had, in deference to it being Friday – and because she knew Jess wasn’t her brightest, most perky self – put the radio on, and the strains of Carrie Underwood drifted out from the storeroom.
She heard the door open, and turned to greet the new customer. It took her brain a couple of seconds to process the strawberry-blonde hair, the smart, biscuit-coloured nurse’s uniform, the name badge that said ‘Margaret’. Ash, of course, knew her as Peggy.
‘Hello,’ Jess said. It came out as a croak.
‘Hey,’ Peggy replied. She looked, and sounded, wary. ‘You ordered a couple of mugs for me, and I had an email to say they were ready to pick up.’
‘Right. Let me... I’ll go and get them.’ She gestured to the storeroom and then almost walked into Wendy, who was standing just inside, holding a box.
‘OK, Jess?’ She frowned.
‘Fine. I’m fine. Are they the mugs?’
‘I overheard. They arrived yesterday.’
‘Brilliant.’ She took the box. ‘I’ll do this.’
‘Are you sure you’re OK?’
‘I’m great,’ Jess said. ‘No problemo.’ She winced, knowing Wendy would see right through her, and turned around. Peggy was examining the glittery twigs by the front door.
‘Here they are,’ she said too loudly.
‘How are you?’ Peggy asked gently.
‘I’m really good,’ Jess said. ‘Tickety-boo, in fact. Shall I wrap these?’
‘Oh no, you’re fine.’ Peggy waved her away. ‘They’re just for home. John – my husband – and I love these mugs, but we had a dinner party that got a bit boisterous, and our set of six went down to four. My home aesthetic doesn’t tolerate mismatched mugs.’
‘That’s understandable,’ Jess said. Her whole body was a live wire, she was so desperate to ask Peggy about Ash. Surely, even though he hadn’t come here, and had missed Mack’s coffee on Sunday, he hadn’t missed seeing his dad? Unless, of course, he’d listened to her and decided he didn’t need to go any more. Perhaps he’d seen all three of them as obligations, and dropped the whole lot. ‘These mugs are lovely,’ she added blandly. ‘So pretty.’
‘They match our colour scheme,’ Peggy said. ‘When I pictured how I wanted our house to look, it was more blue than green, but now we have several feature walls that I lovingly refer to as cosy slime.’ She chuckled. ‘The paint was so expensive, so John said we had to at least give it a tryafter the effort of decorating it all, and now – with a few bright cushions and art prints – it looks pretty swanky. The slightly icky colours seem to be in vogue right now.’
‘Cheerful cushions always make a difference.’ Jess added an extra layer of Sellotape to the box, to make sure the bottom didn’t drop out while Peggy was carrying it. The song on the radio changed to a low, melancholy tune by Fretland.
‘Have you caught up with Ash recently?’ Peggy almost whispered it, as if she might get in trouble for asking.
Jess’s heart pounded harder. ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘We had an argument last Thursday, and I haven’t heard from him since. I’ve tried calling, sending messages, but—’
‘Thursday?’ Peggy said. ‘Just over a week ago?’
‘I went to his flat in Holborn, but he wasn’t there.’ She chewed her lip. ‘His neighbour hadn’t seen him either, and I know it’s been so hard for him...’
‘What has?’ Peggy asked gently.
Jess nodded, expecting this. ‘He told me how you know him. That his dad abandoned his family when Ash was young, but now he’s in Greenwich, and he’s really ill. He told me that he visits every Sunday, and that you’ve been looking after him.’
Peggy’s smile was more of a wince. ‘He’s been hard on himself from the beginning. It’s been such a tough situation, a difficult set of circumstances, but he still came. He was a lot stronger than he thought he was.’
Jess took a large paper bag from the shelf under the counter and opened it, sliding the box inside. ‘He didn’t come here last Sunday,’ she said. ‘And I know we’d had a fight, but he’s made other friends here, too. I felt awful that what happened between us stopped him from turning up at all.’ She exhaled. ‘I know you can’t really tell me anything, but I just – how was he, on Sunday? Was he OK?’ She held her breath, watched emotions cross Peggy’s face like the shadow of clouds on a time-lapse video.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Peggy said. ‘It’s not my place to say anything. But I do know he likes you, Jess. He talked about you a whole lot, and it was always good.’ Her smile was soft. ‘You made things bearable for him.’
‘I’m glad,’ Jess murmured. ‘Glad I was able to help.’ She turned the bag around on the counter.
