The Happy Hour

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Most twenty-seven-year-olds who lived five minutes away from the centre of Greenwich, and a short boat or train ride from the bright lights of Central London, would not be spending Saturday nights in their bedrooms unless they had company.

But then, most people who wanted a motivational poster on the wall above their desk, or pinned to their fridge, would make one using a free graphics app on their phone. Because some people didn’tdo that, Jess was spending her Saturday night alone, painstakingly changing font sizes on the design she was creating on her laptop while a Morgan Wade album played quietly in the background. She had built up a small income stream from her Etsy shop and, even though it wasn’t anywhere near enough to live on, it gave her a sense of purpose outside No Vase Like Home.

She took photos of the soft green corners of Greenwich Park, or a blue sky dotted with clouds, or the river on its calmest, silveriest days, then she thought up a slogan, made sure the fonts and colours were aesthetically pleasing and, when someone ordered one, slid a piece of thick card into her printer and hit print. A quick trim, then she sent it out in a ‘do not bend’ envelope along with a handwritten note.

When she first came up with the idea for her prints – which was when Terence had said to her, ‘Life gives you lemons, and do you know what? I fucking hate lemonade,’ – she had wondered whether to create two separate shops: genuine motivation for people who were inspired by a positive slogan, and the more Terence-like sayings for those who had cynicism running through them like the place name on a stick of rock.

She had found, though, that a lot of her customers wanted both: that everyone was bitter and hopeful, in different amounts.

Tonight she was working on two side by side. A chance encounter with a stranger could change your life: make room for the unexpected,alongside Eye contact with a handsome stranger means true love, or that his accomplice is about to steal your phone. They needed honing, but sometimes it was easier to let the words shuffle into place in her mind while she focused on making them look pretty.

She loved the idea that little pieces of her creativity were scattered across the country, cheering up people’s houses and making them laugh. Home decor was such a personal thing, and Jess felt strongly that people should be able to style their homes how they wanted – even though she had tried to persuade Felicity not to buy a hare earlier in the week.

Jess’s own personal space consisted of the four walls she was in right now, and it was always tidy, with decorative items from No Vase Like Home that she’d bought with her discount: a large J with built-in LED spotlights on the shelf in front of her favourite paperbacks; a small stone with ears and the suggestion of a face, unidentifiable as any creature beyond a pet rock; a mother-of-pearl photo frame, the rainbow sheen glinting under her fairy lights, with a photo of her and Lola, arms outstretched, on a pebble beach. She liked bright colours against neutral backgrounds, and had created a space that was cheerful but soft, too.

It had been a long time since anyone other than Lola or Terence had been in here. Her last, short-lived boyfriend Warren had come over a few times, though, in hindsight, their relationship had never really got off the starting blocks. He certainly hadn’t been around long enough to influence how her room looked.

She was close to finalising her new designs when there was a knock on the door. She clenched her teeth and called, ‘Yeah?’

‘I’m ordering from Golden Palace,’ Terence said through the door. ‘Want anything?’

Jess had been so busy at the market today – Saturdays were always frenetic – that she couldn’t remember what she’d eaten. She opened the door to find her landlord and flatmate, his reddish-brown hair in its usual dishevelled state, wearing jeans and a loose blue T-shirt, leaning against the wall.

‘I’d love a beef chow mein,’ she said. ‘And... do they do dim sum?’

‘I’ve got the menu open on my iPad.’ Terence went back to the living room, and Jess followed. ‘Working on your Etsy stuff?’ The wall-mounted television was showing some spangly Saturday night show with the sound off, which enhanced its inanity.

‘I’ve got a few orders to fulfil, and I’m adding some new designs,’ Jess said, as he handed her the iPad.

‘Need more of your envelopes?’

‘If you can wangle me a few, that would be great.’ One perk of living with a postman was that he could get her stationery supplies at a huge discount which, on her spreadsheet of business incomings and outgoings, barely made a dent.

‘No worries.’ Terence was staring at the brightly clothed presenters on the TV as if he had an exam on the subject the next day. He was in his mid-thirties, and Jess might have considered him a loner, except that he went to the pub with friends at least three times a week, which was more socialising than she ever did. She very rarely saw anything spark joy in him, rarely saw deep emotion of any kind pass through him – though he seemed content enough. As two people who lived in fairly close quarters, they didn’t share a whole lot, other than takeaway orders, milk, and a belief that Royal Mail was one of the country’s greatest institutions and was being systematically destroyed.

‘Thanks,’ Jess said. ‘And along with the beef chow mein I’d like some spicy chicken wings. Except – do you know how spicy they are? How long do you think they’d... linger?’

Terence looked at her as if she’d asked when he was next delivering mail to Mars. ‘I don’t get wings, so... no clue. Why? Have you got a hot date later?’ He glanced at his watch, as if to suggest she was pushing it fine if that was her plan.

Jess’s laugh was more of a manic titter. ‘No, I... you know. Sunday tomorrow. We’ll be busy at work. Who knows who I might encounter?’

Terence swapped his incredulous expression for a grin, and Jess was reminded that casual fibbing was not one of her skills. She was much better at staying silent, locking things away completely. She wished she hadn’t asked him about the chicken wings.

‘Who knows indeed,’ Terence said. ‘I reckon they won’t blow your head off. Want me to add them?’

‘Yeah. I’ve got some notes in my purse – let me get them.’ She hurried back to her room, her laptop screen glaring at her from the corner. No psychologist would sweat to interpret the meaning behind her newest quotes: the mention of a handsome stranger; the reference to stealing.

Last Sunday’s events would have played on her thoughts even if they hadn’t had lasting consequences, but she was seeing Ash again tomorrow and, even if she wanted to back out, there was nothing she could do, because they hadn’t exchanged numbers.

She dug in her handbag for her purse, and took out the crumpled notes. Ash had managed to knock down the defences she usually kept up around other people without so much as breaking a sweat. She had sat in a café with him, laughing at his stories about rogue pigeons and wondering what he was killing time until. His reluctance to tell her had only made her more curious, and she thought that maybe he’d done it on purpose, as a way to keep her on the hook.

‘It’s going to be an hour,’ Terence called. ‘Saturday night and all that!’

Jess went to give him the money, and told him she didn’t mind waiting. She didn’t want to be alone in her room any more, fiddling with her motivational quotes and thinking about tomorrow.

Terence was scrolling idly on his phone, the Saturday-night series still silent in the background.

‘What’s this, then?’ Jess sat on the sofa and pointed her foot at the TV.

‘Some shit,’ he said without looking up.

‘Let’s find something less shit, then.’

‘Good luck with that.’

Jess scrolled through the channels, looking for anything remotely interesting, and eventually found a Denzel Washington film that had only been going for three minutes, the cast names bouncing along the screen as a wide shot of an American city zoomed slowly in to find the inciting incident.

‘How about this?’

Terence made a noise that could have meant acceptance or indifference, but he put his phone down and asked Jess if she wanted a beer. Jess nodded and thanked him, and wondered if she really would be able to forget about seeing Ash again for a couple of hours, distracted by a good film and a Chinese takeaway. At least she wasn’t alone in her room on a Saturday night any more.