Chapter Six
Chapter Six
At ten past twelve the next day, Jess decided Ash wasn’t coming, and her stomach settled like a popped balloon: no more nervous bouncing, but also fully deflated.
It was a sunny day, the first weekend in May, and the light shone through the glass roof of the market, alighting on the coloured, see-through hearts that reminded her of the stained-glass biscuits she’d made two decades ago at Brownies. It had been one of the activities her parents had encouraged her to do, though she had much preferred swimming club, which had been less about false fun and more about competition. She had spent so much time with her head underwater that it wasn’t a surprise when she hadn’t found any firm friends by the end of the first term.
‘I thought you wanted to head off for lunch,’ Wendy said, talking over the sound of Jess drumming her fingers on the counter. Beyond the shop the market was busy, laughter and chatter and the smells from the food court batting up against the window. A scream filled the air, followed by a bellow that could have been anger or hilarity, and Jess found herself looking for running figures, for Braden again, for Ash.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said, and was surprised by how flat she sounded.
‘Roger told me about his saviour,’ Wendy went on.‘Theman who collared young Braden before you two got there. The one you went to coffee with.’
‘He was just some guy.’ Jess flicked through a supplier’s catalogue, and wished that she could dismiss him from her thoughts as easily.
‘Is that so?’ Wendy didn’t sound convinced.
‘I’ll be fine here for a bit.’ She put down the catalogue and rearranged the pile of tourist maps next to the till, feeling Wendy’s gaze on her. She was relieved when a large group of friends bustled into the shop, talking over each other and cooing at the display of cushions, and they were both kept busy answering questions, checking the storeroom for more stock of pomegranate room spray.
Jess wasn’t surprised that Ash hadn’t shown. He’d been fun but evasive, a bright spot in an ordinary week, and she’d made the mistake of getting her hopes up, letting in the spark of possibility that she could spend an hour with a handsome stranger and that he’d want to see her again.
The friends left with wide smiles and full paper bags, and the clocks ticked loudly in the quiet, telling her it was just after half past twelve. She tried to put her disappointment into a box.
‘You still need to eat,’ Wendy said, ‘even if your plans have fallen through.’
‘I’ll get a muffin,’ she said automatically.
‘Good choice.’ Jess recognised the deep voice, and she looked up to see Ash standing in the doorway, wearing his grey jacket, jeans and a dusty blue jumper. He was holding two takeaway coffees, and his smile was hesitant. ‘I’m so sorry. Can you still take a break? I understand if I’m too late.’
‘Ash,’ she blurted. ‘I—’
‘I was just about to force her out of the door,’ Wendy said. ‘Take her, please.’
He didn’t. Instead he waited, dipped his head slightly and said, ‘Jess?’
She stood, frozen on the spot.
‘I really am sorry,’ he said.
She picked up her bag from behind the till. ‘I can come for a bit, I suppose.’
His shoulders dropped, his smile widening. ‘Great. I got you an Americano, because of last weekend, but I also have cappuccino if you’d prefer that.’ He held up the cups. ‘I love the shop,’ he added, as Jess got her jacket.
‘Thank you,’ Wendy said. ‘I’m Wendy. Lovely to meet you, Ash.’
‘You too,’ Ash replied. ‘I particularly like the hares.’ He gestured to the shelf where they sat, looking menacing, and Jess wondered if it was rude to push a man you’d only met once before. Instead, she tugged his jacket until he was facing the door and then, when he made no move to walk through it, she pressed her hand between his shoulder blades and nudged him forwards. His jacket was soft against her palm and she felt the thrill of putting her hand on him – like something forbidden.
‘You did that on purpose,’ she said, once they were in the narrow walkway outside the shop.
He looked at her. ‘No I didn’t.’
‘You don’t even know what I’m talking about. Can I have my coffee?’
‘Not yet. It’s busy in here, you might get knocked.’
‘And you have a forcefield around you, I suppose?’ She waited a beat, then added, ‘I didn’t think you were going to turn up.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said again. ‘This morning didn’t go as planned.’
‘Aren’t you going to be late for your thing? It’s in twenty minutes, isn’t it?’
‘I can still have an hour with you. I called ahead, made sure I could be late, just this once.’
‘For me?’
‘For you.’ He nodded, his smile a flicker and then gone. ‘Shall we get going? We don’t want to miss it.’
‘Miss what?’ Jess asked, but Ash was already ahead of her, weaving between parents with children so small you didn’t see them until the last minute; couples who had decided Sundays were for strolling, no matter the crush; tourists looking at maps to determine which exit they needed for their next destination. Jess noticed that, as he passed the other stalls, Ash nodded hellos. To Olga – which wasn’t a surprise considering she’d seen him goofing around with her hats – but then he said hello to Susie on the Better Babies stall, and Enzo as they passed his elegant display of earrings and necklaces, the gold winking in the sunshine. Jess waved and smiled too, of course, but she worked there.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked, once they’d left the alley at the top of the market, going past the baker’s that smelled of warm, fresh bread, doughy and irresistible.
‘I thought we’d make the most of my lateness.’ Ash glanced at his watch. ‘We’ve got ten minutes.’
‘Until what?’ They waited to cross the road, tourists banked up at the crossing like runners at the start of a marathon.
Ash nudged her arm with his elbow, still holding firmly onto the takeaway mugs. ‘Patience.’
‘Really?’ Jess laughed. ‘I already had to wait over half an hour for you. I didn’t have to come.’
She was gratified to see a blush stain his cheekbones. Even embarrassed, he was unfairly handsome. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘Sorry. We’re going to the Meridian Line. There’s a red ball on the observatory that drops at exactly one o’clock every day. You can set your watch by it.’
‘I know about that,’ Jess said. ‘I live here, remember? But actually,’ she softened her voice, ‘it’s been ages since I saw it happen.’
Ash smiled. ‘See? It’s a good plan. And it wouldn’t hurt for me to make sure my watch is accurate.’
Jess rolled her eyes. ‘You can stop apologising now. You’re here, and you brought coffee.’
‘And I’m taking you to the park where, only last week, you told me there were thousands of over-friendly pigeons, so I’m making a pretty big sacrifice.’ The look he gave her suggested he saw their lunch date as anything but a sacrifice, and Jess gave him a reluctant smile.
They walked through the wrought-iron gateway into the park, everything technicolour under the May sun. The lawns were busy with dog walkers and families, relaxed strollers and focused joggers. An ice-cream van must have been parked up somewhere because people were clutching cones, taking satisfied licks. Jess loved how many different personalities the park had: open grass to laze on, an ornamental lake with ducks, a boating pond that ran pedalos in the summer months. You could find shade under the mature trees or hide away in the secret garden that was fit to bursting with seasonal flowers, a riot of colour that smelled as good as it looked.
‘Can I have my coffee now?’ She held her hand out, and Ash handed her a cup.
‘We’ll have to hurry if we want to see the ball drop.’
‘I can keep up with you,’ Jess said with a scoff, then worried it was a lie, because Ash’s legs were longer than hers.
But she kept pace with him, even when they reached the steepest part of the hill, and they stopped inside the courtyard of the Royal Observatory, the brick building’s white cornicing gleaming in the sunshine, the red orb like a model of Mars proud on the top.
‘Here we are.’ Ash was slightly breathless. ‘We made it. And... there. Five to one.’ They watched as the ball slid halfway up its mast, coming to a neat stop.
There were ‘Ooos’ of wonder from the tourists standing around them, and Jess laughed.
‘What’s so funny?’ Ash was next to her, and there was a comforting warmth down her right side, where their arms touched.
‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘It just looked a bit silly, the ball popping up like that.’
‘It’s a historic marvel. It’s been doing it since 1833, did you know that?’
‘I did not. No wonder Braden called you Dictionary Corner.’
He gave her an amused glance. ‘I think today you mean Encyclopedia Brittanica.’
‘Smart with words and facts.’ Jess grinned. ‘Thanks for my coffee.’
‘Thanks for still coming with me, even though I messed up.’
‘What happened?’
Ash looked away, to where people were standing with one foot either side of the Meridian Line, as if they were straddling two different lifetimes. ‘I just wasn’t sure,’ he admitted.
‘About your appointment?’
His burst of laughter was humourless. ‘No, I’m very sure how I feel about that.’
Jess waited for him to elaborate. She could feel her pulse beating in her neck.
‘I meant about this,’ Ash said after a moment. ‘Last weekend was so random.’ He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. ‘It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see you – I haven’t doubted that for one second since we left the café last week. I just wasn’t sure it was a good idea.’
Jess sucked in a breath, trying to temper her disappointment. ‘Why not?’ she asked. ‘Because I liked that fluffy pen? You were worried I was a serial killer?’
Ash laughed. ‘No, I just—’
‘There!’ The ball had bounced to the top of the mast while they weren’t looking, and now it dropped, like a stone, to the bottom. There was a smattering of applause and Jess said, ‘Quick, set your watch.’
Ash fiddled with the crown on his watch, his coffee cup tipping precariously.
‘Here.’ Jess took it from him, her fingertips brushing his.
‘Thanks. I almost missed it.’
‘Then you would have been evenlater next week.’ It had just popped out, her heart thudding along with the words, but she felt a spark of pleasure at the way Ash’s face brightened.
‘There.’ He held his arm out, his elegant watch showing a minute past one on his tanned wrist. ‘Come on, I’m going to test you.’
‘On what?’ Jess handed Ash his coffee cup, then he took her free hand, tangling their fingers together.
‘You live here, so you must have this view burned into your retinas.’ He led her to the railing at the top of the park’s main thoroughfare, in front of the statue of General James Wolfe. Below them, the lawn sloped down to the Queen’s House and the Old Royal Naval College, with the towering skyscrapers of Canary Wharf a gleaming contrast beyond. It was a magnificent view, especially with the Thames weaving through it, glittering like a sequinned serpent.
‘You’re going to test me on the landmarks?’
‘I bet you know them off by heart.’ Ash spoke softly, but his voice cut through the tourists’ chatter, and the breeze dancing through the cherry blossoms.
As she stood there, with London spread out before her, he came to stand behind her. His body wasn’t touching hers, but he was close, a wall of warmth sheltering her from the spring wind. He put their coffee cups on the low wall. ‘You have ten seconds,’ he said into her ear.
Jess felt a flash of panic and looked out across the park, then down at the illustration on the metal plaque at waist height, which had labels for all the notable buildings. She could hear Ash counting under his breath, and when he got to two, he said, ‘Ready?’
‘For what?’
He held his hands out in front of them, then brought them slowly towards her face. ‘OK? he asked.
Jess swallowed. She already knew how warm his hands were. ‘OK.’
He brought them closer, then very gently pressed them over her eyes. The darkness was tinged pink, and there was a floral scent from whichever soap he’d used last.
‘What buildings are there?’ he asked, his words gusting breath onto the back of her neck.
‘The Queen’s House, the Old Royal Naval College, the Gherkin.’
‘You need to point, too.’
‘I can’t see, Ash. How can I point?’
‘You know which direction they’re in.’
‘Fine.’ She huffed. ‘The Queen’s House, the Old Royal Naval College.’ She pointed straight ahead. ‘Then that way, there’s the Shard, the Gherkin, the Cheese Grater. St Paul’s and the London Eye right over...’ She swung her hand left. ‘Then that way,’ she pointed right, ‘is the O2 and Greenwich Power Station.’
He laughed. ‘This wasn’t challenging at all.’
‘I should have made you do it,’ she said. ‘That would have been more fun.’
‘I would have managed the park,’ he replied, and a second later she could see again, her skin immediately missing the warmth of his. She blinked into the sunlight, then turned around.
‘The park isn’t a building,’ she pointed out.
‘Nor is the London Eye, technically.’
Without discussing it, they picked up their coffees and walked over to the first bench they could see, a little way down the path, away from the groups of foreign students and day-tripping families. Here, the Queen’s House and the river were shielded by trees, but above the canopy they could see the yellow spikes of the O2, and the power station’s towers.
‘I brought a muffin.’ Ash reached into his jacket pocket and took out a familiar red paper bag.
‘From Moreish!’
It was a lemon and poppy seed muffin, full of lemon cream – part of Kirsty’s summer range – and she could barely wait for Ash to tear it in half. He handed her a large piece and she bit into it.
‘Thank you,’ she said around a mouthful of sugary sponge.
‘Apology muffin, for almost not turning up.’
‘The best apologies are made with food that’s really bad for you.’
He gave her a sideways look. ‘That is very true.’
‘I’ve used those words in my shop.’
Ash frowned. ‘No Vase Like Home?’
‘No, not there. I have an Etsy shop.’
‘You have a side hustle?’
She nodded. ‘I make motivational prints. I took an arty photo of Kirsty’s stall, all those muffins arranged in their little paper cases, and I wrote that over the top. The best apologies are made with food that’s really bad for you. It sells really well, but not as well as the cynical version.’
‘What’s that?’
‘The best apologies are heart attacks in disguise. Are they really sorry, or just trying to kill you?’
Ash’s laugh was a guffaw. ‘Are you worried I’m a killer, now? Do you want me to eat your half?’
‘No.’ Jess spun away from him, holding the muffin against her chest, then took another large bite to be on the safe side. ‘I wrote a new one last night.’
‘What did it say?’
‘A chance encounter with a stranger could change your life: make room for the unexpected. Today has been unexpected, because first, I didn’t think you were going to turn up, and then you did, and then...’
‘I forced you to prove your status as a local by giving you a spot test on the sights of Greenwich peninsula?’
‘Exactly.’
‘I’m very glad I turned up,’ he said. The conviction in his voice made Jess look at him more closely. He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes were holding hers, inviting her to tell him all her secrets. ‘I love the sound of your prints. The dark and the light.’
‘I love making them,’ she admitted. ‘I like the thought that something I’ve created is making someone’s home a bit brighter, whether I’m inspiring them or making them laugh. A new dawn is a chance to make a hundred more mistakes; your oldest friends are the ones who haven’t worked out how to get rid of you.’
Ash laughed. ‘Ouch.’
‘Too bitter?’
‘Too real,’ he said. ‘I think I prefer the positive ones.’
‘OK.’ She gave him a small smile, but inside, it felt as if the world was shifting around her. Ash touched her lightly on the knee, a gentle pressure through her dress, and she went very still, focusing on the sensation, the low rumble of her internal earthquake.
‘Hey, I—’
He was interrupted by a small white dog rushing up to their bench. It reminded Jess of an illustrated edition she’d had of
T. S. Eliot poems, the drawings in ‘Growltiger’s Last Stand’ and ‘The Pekes and the Pollicles’.
The dog bounced in the grass at their feet, scraping Ash’s jeans with its tiny paws.
‘Hey, little guy,’ he said. ‘Who are you?’
‘She’s a demon,’ said a tall, thick-waisted woman wearing a cranberry red coat, striding up the hill to join them. ‘It doesn’t matter how securely I fix her lead to her harness, she always manages to escape.’
‘She’s adorable.’ Ash ran his fingers through her candy-floss fur, his hand almost the size of the little dog’s head.
‘She’s too sociable, that’s her problem. Always looking for new friends. Come on, Diamanté, leave these people alone.’
Ash glanced at Jess, amusement shining in his eyes, and Jess put her coffee cup in front of her face to hide her smirk.
Diamanté yapped and then raced to her owner, dancing at her feet. The woman bent down, held a treat out on her palm and secured the lead in one swift movement.
‘Sorry to have bothered you,’ she said.
‘You didn’t,’ Ash replied.
‘She’s cute,’ Jess added, ‘for a demon.’
The woman gave them a rueful smile and retreated down the hill with her unruly pet.
‘Diamanté the Demon Dog,’ Ash said. ‘It sounds like a West End musical.’
‘Or a nightmare,’ Jess replied. ‘Do you have any pets?’
Ash shook his head. ‘My apartment block is an animal-free zone, except that the guy with neck tattoos who lives on the ground floor has two Dobermanns – unless he walks them for a friend every day.’
‘He has neck tattoos and two Dobermanns?’ Jess shuddered. ‘I guess he’s not going to be called out on it any time soon.’
‘Certainly not by me.’ Ash’s grimace made Jess double over with laughter. ‘What about you?’
‘I have a Terence,’ Jess said.
‘Cat or dog?’
‘Housemate, actually. And, in fact, my landlord. He’s well-behaved most of the time.’
‘Oh,’ Ash said. ‘He’s... is he, uhm...’
Jess hid her amusement at Ash’s loss of composure. Did he think Terence was her boyfriend? Friend with benefits? The thought was laughable – there was zero attraction between them – but she was tempted to keep Ash dangling. ‘He’s mid-thirties, a postman, and mostly keeps to himself. Eats jam out of the jar with a spoon, no toast required.’
Ash’s pause seemed to last for eternity. ‘You get on, though?’
‘We don’t antagonise each other, but that’s mainly because we don’t spend much time together. He’s up and out really early, so he crashes early, too. My work days are more straightforward, but I spend a lot of time in my room.’ She didn’t know why she’d added that last bit, but spoken aloud it sounded lonely. ‘Working on my Etsy things,’ she clarified. She watched Diamanté and her owner disappear into the trees at the bottom of the hill.
Ash rubbed his hand over his jaw. He seemed distracted all of a sudden, no longer with her, then he glanced at his watch and his brows drew together.
‘I have to go,’ he told her. ‘How would you feel about...?’ He cleared his throat.
Jess realised she was sucking her cheeks in, that it must look like a bad impression of a duck. She released them. ‘Same time next week?’
‘Midday,’ he confirmed. ‘I promise I won’t be late again. I’ll bring you an Americano?’
‘I’ll get the drinks next time. What’s your favourite?’
‘Cappuccino.’
They made their way down the hill, along a narrow path that ran through the grass.
‘You were saying hello to people in the market,’ she said. ‘On our way here.’
‘I’ve talked to some of the stallholders,’ he admitted. ‘Just the last few weeks.’
‘Only a few weeks, and you already know them enough to say hello.’ It had taken her months to get to know the other vendors, but Ash had broken through boundaries in minutes.
‘Places like the market, it’s the people who hold it together, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘What they sell is important, sure, and the muffins and jewellery are a draw, but Olga’s hats are just hats without her jokes and the way she greets everyone like a long-lost relative. And the objects – they matter because you associate them with a happy memory, or they’re the perfect gift for someone important. None of the items matter in isolation, there’s always a story or a connection.’ They broke through the trees, onto the clear expanse of grass with the Queen’s House in all its splendour beyond. ‘I didn’t find your shop first, or get drawn in by the window display. I met you.’
‘Only because we both chased Braden.’
‘I would have found you,’ Ash said. It was such a simple statement, but it made Jess’s heart stutter and then start up again double time. ‘It’s not the things that matter – not the money that my colleagues make in horrifying amounts; not the hares and vases and cushions you sell that make your customers’ homes cosy. It’s the people they surround themselves with.’ He shrugged, and she saw a tinge of pink on his cheeks. ‘I come for the company, not the muffins.’ He stopped on the path. ‘I’m sorry, I need to run.’
‘OK.’ Jess took a breath. ‘Bye, then.’
‘Bye, Jess.’ He strode away from her.
‘Midday next week?’ she called, needing to cement it in place.
Ash turned around. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, and the lightness in his eyes had gone, as if he’d pulled down a shutter. But his smile, when it came, filled her up.
‘We can get to know each other an hour at a time,’ he called back.
‘Works for me.’
She watched him walk away, then made her own way out of the park, her pace slower. She admitted to herself how glad she was that he’d turned up; that he’d decided she was worth his time. Being with him made her feel giddy, but it also left her with the heavy weight of satisfaction, like a flower, laden with petals, blossoming inside her.
They may only have had an hour together, but it was one of the best things she’d done all week.