The Happy Hour

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Jess spent the whole of Monday thinking about what Ash had said about people being at the heart of the market. Ash, who was an occupational psychologist, whose business it was to get inside other people’s heads. His work days consisted of looking at employees’ behaviour and trying to get the best productivity out of them while also giving them maximum job satisfaction and support (she’d looked it up, obviously). What did he think of her distrust of ornamental hares and her Jekyll-and-Hyde side project, where she enjoyed creating the mean quotes as much as the uplifting ones?

He smiled easily, laughed readily, and his eyes could, she thought idly while tidying the shop’s stock of coloured tissue paper, convey an entire essay’s worth of emotions. But there were also moments when he’d brought down the shutters, kept everything inside, his jaw tight. Already, she couldn’t wait to see him again, to find that place right in the centre, the part of Ash she didn’t think he showed to many people.

What would he think of what she was doing now? Her attempt to let go of her reservations about Lola’s music video and allow her personal and work lives to collide? She wondered if he’d think she was brave, or if he’d think she was too sensitive for even worrying about it.

The Tuesday version of the market was a lot quieter than at the weekends, and was infused with a calm that Jess usually only found in the early mornings, when she opened up the shop. The smell of fresh coffee won out over exhaust fumes, and a bell was ringing somewhere, over and over, as if it had got stuck at its tipping point.

‘I don’t recognise any of these people,’ Lola whispered as they edged up the side of the market, peering at the stallholders.

‘You don’t get the same traders during the week,’ Jess explained. ‘Some days have a specific focus like antiques or artwork, other people are full time, some just have a stall for one or two days. You can get some shots this morning, which will be easier while it’s quiet, then we can bite the bullet and come back at the weekend, give your video the full market atmosphere, while also pissing off a large number of tourists.’

‘They won’t be pissed off,’ Lola said. ‘They’ll all want to be in my video. I already have fifteen thousand followers on TikTok, just from some practice scales and bowing sessions. Think how many more I’ll get posting a full-length track that’s been professionally edited.’

‘Professionally edited?’ Jess waved at Susie, who was here full time with her Better Babies stall, and was currently eating what looked like a Pot Noodle for breakfast.

‘You’re filming, Malik’s editing – doing all the cutting and splicing and whatnot.’

‘Isn’t TikTok meant to be more raw? All on-the-fly, in-the-moment sort of stuff? Authentic snapshots of real life?’

‘That’s what everyone says,’Lola told her with a huff, ‘but think how many hours of practice those dancers must put in to get their moves in sync, how many takes they do. Most of the big hitters have been edited to death.’

‘Fair enough. Let’s come back to Susie in a bit. Why not...’ Jess turned in a slow circle, wondering which of the vendors would be an easy introduction for Lola and her plans. ‘Let’s go and see Enzo.’

‘He’s a jewellery maker, right? Portuguese? He has all that intricate gold stuff on his stall?’

‘It’s filigree.’ Jess led the way, ducking around a trader she thought was called Perry, who was in the process of shaking out his blankets before hanging them along the back of his stall. ‘It’s so beautiful, and all made by his wife Carolina. Although...’ She frowned. Hadn’t she overheard someone, possibly Kirsty, saying that Carolina had been unwell?

Enzo looked up as they approached, his warm smile lighting his dark eyes. Jess noticed that the delicate gold necklaces, earrings and bracelets were laid out sparingly on the white cloth, each piece nestled on a purple velvet cushion. It made the items seem exclusive, but Jess had been working at the market for four years, Enzo had been there six, and this wasn’t what his stall usually looked like.

‘Olá, Enzo,’ Jess said. ‘How are you?’

‘Olá Jess, and Jess’s friend. Hello.’

‘This is Lola,’ Jess said. ‘Lola, meet Enzo.’

They shook hands. Enzo was wearing a navy shirt and black dress trousers, everything about him smart and respectful. He was one of the kindest, most courteous people Jess knew, and she felt a flash of guilt. She had come here first because she knew he wouldn’t turn Lola down.

‘Nice to meet you, Enzo,’ Lola said. ‘Your jewellery is stunning.’

‘Ah. Thank you.’ He dipped his head. ‘My wife, Carolina, she—’

‘Is she OK?’ Jess blurted. ‘I heard that she... that maybe she wasn’t well?’

Enzo’s smile was sad. ‘She has been diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis. She is only forty-two, so it has been a shock.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Jess said. ‘How’s she doing?’

‘That sucks so much.’ Lola sounded angry on their behalf.

‘She has good days and bad,’ Enzo said. ‘She is on her second kind of medicine, because the first, it gave her a rash – a... reaction.’

‘She was allergic?’ Lola asked.

‘Exactly.’ Enzo nodded. ‘This new one seems kinder so far. But now we have to wait, to see how she will respond, how she will feel about getting back to work. She hasn’t been able to make pieces for a long time.’

Jess looked again at the sparsely furnished stall. ‘Shit.’

‘We are managing, but—’

‘It’s all going to be groovy, Enzo dude. Hey, Jess.’

‘Hello, Spade,’ Jess said.

Spade draped his arm around Enzo’s shoulder in a move that was half-hug, half-headlock. ‘What are you doing here on a Tuesday? Wendy got you tied permanently to this place now as her little helper? Or, let me guess, you’ve done it to yourself, but you’re pretending you don’t know anything about it.’ He chuckled, and Jess decided to get the attention off herself.

‘Spade, this is my friend Lola. Lola, meet Spade.’

He sang the first line of the Kinks’ song. ‘Nice to meet you, Lola.’He held out his free hand, and she laughed and shook it.

‘You too,’ she said. ‘You look... familiar?’

Spade tipped his top hat towards her. Beneath that he had a cloud of tangled curls, an even split between dark brown and grey, and was wearing faded jeans, a T-shirt that said Crush the patriarchy,and a navy blazer with sequinned lapels. A silver cross dangled from one ear, completing the aging rockstar look – a look that was entirely justified because that was exactly what he was. ‘House of Cards?’ he said.

Lola frowned, looking to Jess for explanation.

‘House of Cards was his band,’ Jess told her. ‘They split up in the Nineties, but it still has a cult following.’

‘Do you sell memorabilia, then?’ Lola asked.

‘Ah no.’ Spade chuckled. ‘I’m one of the market ghouls. Don’t work here, but come for the intrigue – the entertainment. There’s more of us than you think.’

Jess had never heard him refer to himself that way, but the phrase sent her mind skittering to Felicity, browsing the shop on a weekly basis, and then Ash, killing time here every Sunday. Lost souls, she thought, then pushed the idea away.

‘Whatcha got there?’ Spade pointed at Lola’s violin case. ‘Little Stradivarius?’

‘This is Cecil.’ Lola stood up straighter.

‘Sweet. Fiddling’s a proper talent.’

‘I’m here to shoot a music video, actually,’ Lola said. ‘Jess is introducing me to everyone, getting you all onside so I can strut my stuff down the aisles without hundreds of complaints. The market’s got such a great atmosphere – it’s going to be the perfect backdrop.’

Spade rocked back on his heels, eyebrows raised. ‘Shoot crew on their way?’

Jess and Lola exchanged a glance. ‘I’m the shoot crew.’ Jess held up her phone. ‘We’re doing it on TikTok.’

‘It’s the modern way,’ Spade said. ‘Need any help?’

‘Oh yes!’Lola clapped her hands. ‘An actual rock star? Yes please!’

Spade grinned. ‘I’m a world-class consultant. Mostly on living the high life, but music at a push. What do you need?’

‘Spade is an excellent friend,’ Enzo said. ‘He will help you, I am sure. And of course, please, I am happy to be in the background of your filming. I will do what I can.’

‘Thank you, Enzo.’ Jess squeezed his arm. ‘That’s so kind of you. And I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt to get a coupleof shots of your jewellery.’ Could they help him, somehow? Lola was hoping this video would go viral, and with the market being featured, could it serve a dual purpose?

‘What’s your song?’ Spade asked.

‘It’s a piece I’ve written,’ Lola told him. ‘Modern vibes. More Two Cellos than traditionally classical. It’s the first time I’ve done this, though, so I’m just hoping that...’ She cleared her throat, and for the first time in months, Jess sensed her friend’s uncertainty.

‘What is it?’ she asked.

‘Nothing. I just... Spade?’ Lola said. ‘Do you still play, ever?’

‘The guitar?’ He scratched his neck. ‘Only about an hour a day, these days, and I’ve not played for an audience for a while, but you’ve got to keep your fingers flexible, keep up with the noodling.’

‘An hour a day?’ Lola sounded breathless. ‘So would you... I mean, if I worked on the piece, do you think—?’

Lola’s excitement was a physical thing, and Jess bit back a laugh. ‘Aren’t you trying to showcase your own talent?’ she asked.

‘But think of the views,’ Lola said, spinning to face her. ‘Me, alongside House of Cards’ lead guitarist. Just imagine!’

‘You want me to be in your video?’ Spade asked. ‘Your Cecil, my Axe?’

‘Your what?’ Jess said.

‘He means my violin and his guitar.’ Lola exhaled. ‘I know it’s asking a lot, and that I’m an amateur and I don’t have a shoot crew or a director, and that this is all very sudden, but—’

‘Nah, dude,’ Spade waved her away. ‘It sounds cool. Kooky. I’ve not played with a fiddle for twenty years, but it could really work. I’ll limber up a bit, dust off the old skills.’

‘Oh my God!’ Lola was almost vibrating. ‘Thank you. Thank you!’ She hugged him, almost knocking his hat off in her excitement. Then she hugged Enzo, who let out a surprised chuckle, then she hugged Jess. ‘OK, mission aborted. I need to go home and work on my piece, turn it into a duet. This is going to be amazing!’

‘Here.’ Spade reached inside his jacket and pulled out, of all things, a business card ‘Want any input on the composition, just give me a shout.’

Lola held the card to her chest as if it was a shimmering diamond. ‘I will,’ she squeaked. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

They said their goodbyes, and Lola dragged Jess to the opposite side of the market. ‘You didn’t tell me you had a rock legend here!’

Jess laughed. ‘Had you even heard of him, or House of Cards, five minutes ago?’

‘That’s not the point. I’m going to go home and look them up on YouTube. And anyway, he is so cool. I’m levelling up, Jess – I see viral TikToks in our future.’

‘That would be incredible,’ Jess conceded. ‘And Spade’s a good guy, even if he is a market ghoul. So filming’s being delayed?’ She tried not to sound too relieved.

‘Until I’ve changed my composition,’ Lola said. ‘Want to come and watch old House of Card gigs with me?’

‘As tempting as that sounds, I have a couple of errands to run.’ She also needed to grab hold of the idea that had fluttered into her head while they were talking to Spade. ‘I want to pop in and see Wendy, too.’

‘Going into No Vase Like Home on your day off?’ Lola raised an eyebrow. ‘What a surprise.’

‘Hey. I wouldn’t even be here today if it wasn’t for you.’

‘Fine,’ Lola said. Then a slow, catlike smile spread across her face. ‘I am so glad we came when we did. This is going to be epic, Jessica Peacock.’

‘It was always going to be,’ Jess said, ‘with you at the helm.’

‘Next Thursday,’ were the words that greeted Jess when she walked into the shop two minutes later. Felicity was standing next to the vase of unwanted rainbow twigs, wearing a coral-coloured dress and flat sandals, looking like she had just come from a garden party at Buckingham Palace.

‘Hi, Felicity.’ Jess looked past her, but couldn’t see Wendy. ‘How are you?’

‘Very well, thank you. Next Thursday, if that’s all right with you?’

‘If – uh, if what’s all right?’

‘The water feature,’ Felicity said. ‘You’re going to bring it to my house.’ She was wringing her hands, her face serene but her body full of nervous energy.

‘Of course,’ Jess said. ‘I’m working next Thursday, so as long as Wendy lets me escape for half an hour, then I’ll carry it round. Except...’ She was here right now, and by helping Felicity on her day off she wouldn’t be leaving her boss alone in the shop. ‘We could do it today, if you fancied?’

The older woman shook her head. ‘It’s not convenient.

I’m not... I need to prepare everything. Make sure the garden is ready.’

Jess held back a smile. She could tell Felicity was very particular about things, so this need to plan everything in advance didn’t surprise her. It reminded her a little of her mum.

Edie Peacock, who was a lot younger and more vivacious than her old-fashioned name suggested, collected sunflowers: ceramic sunflowers attached to cutesy-looking milkmaids on plinths; glass paperweights with sunflower designs in the bottom; sunflower mugs and jugs and cushions; sunflower bedding. When Jess was growing up, their house had been a canvas for the large yellow blooms with chocolate-coloured middles. In summer, vases of real ones adorned the living room and kitchen, their oversized heads drooping after a few days. But Edie treated every one, real or designed, as if it was precious, finding it the perfect space in her home.

Sometimes, Jess had felt that her mum cared more about the sunflowers than she did about her: as if she’d collected her too, but then discovered she wasn’t quite bright enough, didn’t fit snugly into her collection. For years, she had thought that she was imagining it, that she had imposed that attitude on Edie and Graham because she hadn’t been wanted, hadn’t belonged anywhere, before them. Because the truth was, they had treated her like their own daughter from the moment she came to live with them, all the way up until that summer afternoon two years ago when she’d overheard Edie talking to their neighbour, Celine. Right up until that moment, she had thought—

‘What time works for you?’ Felicity prompted, bringing Jess out of her daydream.

‘How about eleven?’ Jess said.

‘Eleven o’clock would be marvellous.’

As Felicity left, she gave her favourite mirror a longing glance, and Jess resisted the urge to ask her outright: if she loved it so much, then why didn’t she just buy it? Why distract herself with water features?

‘Jess!’ Wendy emerged from the storeroom, the cordless landline in her hand. ‘I was ordering more statuettes from Harbour’s. What are you doing here?’

‘Harbour’s? Not more hares. I’m starting to think you actually hate me.’

Wendy grinned. ‘They’ve got a new line of owls. Much less sinister.’

‘Owls are not entirely un-sinister,’ Jess pointed out.

‘I think you’re averse to the countryside, confused by its bucolic charms. If I brought in statues of scrawny city foxes, rats and pigeons, you’d be perfectly comfortable.’

‘Not pigeons,’ Jess said, feeling defensive on Ash’s behalf.

‘Give the owls a chance, eh? Why are you here on your day off, anyway?’

‘I was introducing Lola to some of the stallholders,’ she admitted. ‘She wants to film a music video here, and now she and Spade have met the whole thing is, predictably, snowballing.’ She thought of Enzo, and his struggle to keep his business going while Carolina was ill. Would he even be able to pay for his stall next month?

‘Lola and Spade together, eh?’ Wendy tapped her lips. ‘There’s some confidence worth bottling right there.’

‘Don’t I know it. Anyway,’ Jess sighed, ‘no filming for me today, at least. I’m off the hook until Lola’s rewritten her tune.’

Wendy gave her a knowing look. ‘Enjoying your time in the limelight?’

‘I’m going to be behind the camera. That’s what filming is.’

‘All right smarty pants. Sort everything out with Felicity?’

‘I’m taking the water feature to hers next Thursday, which is weirdly specific.’

‘She’s a weirdly specific sort of person.’

‘Agreed. I just popped in to see how you were doing, anyway.’

‘I’m surviving, just about.’ Wendy gave her a gleeful grin. ‘Something else on your mind?’

Jess bit her lip. ‘Not really.’ She hadn’t really had an errand to run, she just felt as if coming into the market without visiting the shop would be a betrayal of some kind. ‘See you on Thursday.’ She stepped backwards through the doorway, nearly bumping into a couple who were walking past outside.

‘Don’t be too miserable away from the market,’ Wendy called after her, in a tone that Jess chose not to analyse. Of course she had a life outside the market. Of course she did. It was inconsequential that she’d brought her best friend and her colleagues together, and that she’d struck up a coffee arrangement with a man she’d met here. Greenwich Market wasn’t the centre of the entire world, and it certainly wasn’t the centre of hers.