Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
In only a few weeks, getting the Thames Clipper from Embankment down to Greenwich had become part of Ash’s Sunday routine. It was a much better way to travel than the combination of tube and DLR, especially when the weather was good and he could make the journey in the fresh air. Today, the sun was bright and – thank God – there was a brisk breeze, turning the surface of the river into ripples of light and shade, chilling the back of his neck as he stood on the deck, holding the thing he’d brought tightly against
his chest.
The boat was quiet, the majority of passengers travelling in the opposite direction in the mornings, up towards Central London rather than away from it, but there was a young family sitting in the front row of plastic seats, a little girl with pigtails watching him with curiosity. He ran a hand through his hair self-consciously, then realised what she was interested in – it was what he had brought for his hour with Jess.
She’d given him the idea during their first coffee, and then last Sunday – well, it had felt chaotic, with him turning up late, cobbling together a plan to go up to the Meridian Line. But somehow, it had worked out. He’d made her laugh, she’d made him laugh – and for an hour, his tension had gone. He had felt as if he was exactly where he was supposed to be, and he wanted more of it.
‘Hello,’ the little girl said to him.
‘Hello,’ he replied. He made eye contact with her parents, and they exchanged smiles, then Ash went back to staring at the water. They had passed the main landmarks now, the Tower of London and Tower Bridge, the Gherkin and the Shard, which he’d forced Jess to point out to him last weekend, and now the banks changed, the buildings becoming shorter, more domestic and industrial, London’s grand epicentre behind them.
The sun glinted off the water, and there was the occasional waft of something deep and rotten on the breeze, but mostly the air was fresh, letting him breathe more deeply. He pictured Jess with her dark, wavy hair brushing her shoulders, the way she kept her smile mostly guarded, but sometimes it burst out of her unexpectedly; how, when she bunched her cheeks, it changed the shape of the freckle constellations below her eyes.
He had never imagined, when he’d first gone to Greenwich, following the directions in the email, that he’d find something like this. After that first week, when he’d left far too much time, adamant that he wouldn’t be late on his first day, he’d stepped into the market – somewhere so much brighter than he was feeling – and let himself get caught up in it.
It was easy, the following weekend, to leave the same amount of time, to give himself that space before walking up to the white front door and all that lay beyond it. And then the third Sunday – the shout from Roger, Braden running through the market. Ash had chased him without thinking, then stood there, feeling like a fool without a plan. But then he’d noticed her standing there and, even though seeing a beautiful woman in that situation should have made him feel worse, should have heightened his embarrassment, somehow it had been the opposite. It was almost as if he’d been waiting for something more, biding his time at the market until it came along,
and then Jess had appeared, and she was that more. He couldn’t imagine ever not wanting more of her.
‘I like your kite.’ The little girl with pigtails pointed at it, and Ash was brought out of his reverie.
He grinned. It was a traditional, diamond-shaped kite with brightly coloured panels in pink, yellow, green and purple, the ribboned-tail a rainbow of neat bows. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I’m going to fly it on Blackheath.’
‘We’re going to the big ship,’ the girl said. ‘Can you fly kites there?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Ash said carefully. ‘But you can pretend you’re sailing out in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by sharks and whales and giant squid.’ He shot a glance at her parents, but they didn’t seem alarmed by the picture he was painting. ‘You can pretend you’re a pirate.’
‘Pirates don’t have kites?’ She sounded incredulous, as if that was the most ridiculous oversight.
Ash pretended to think for a moment, tapping his finger against his chin. ‘You know what?’
The little girl nodded, her eyes never leaving his.
‘I think they’d be worried about being dragged off the ship. One strong gust, and then...’ He lifted the kite, unfurled it slightly and staggered towards the edge of the deck, as if the wind was going to pull him overboard.
The little girl giggled, wriggling in her chair.
‘They wouldn’t want that to happen.’ The girl’s mum wrapped an arm around her shoulder. ‘Maybe kites and pirates don’t mix.’
‘Once they’re back on land, though.’ Ash moved back to the middle of the deck in case there was a sudden gust. ‘Kite tournaments all the way, I bet.’ He could see, on the bank,
the familiar glass dome of the entrance to Greenwich’s foot tunnel, the mast of the family’s destination reaching up into a blue sky dotted with puffball clouds. ‘Have a great day,’ he said.
‘Have fun with the kite,’ the girl’s mum replied, giving him a warm smile.
He folded it back up as best he could, tucked it half inside his jacket and made his way to the back of the boat.
The market was busier than he’d ever seen it, with people crushed into every aisle, and Ash held the kite tight to his chest, feeling more ridiculous with every step. This was a child’s activity. He wouldn’t be surprised if Jess shook her head, said they should get a coffee and a burger instead or – even worse – that they should leave it this week, perhaps not bother next time either. The thought made the band tighten around his chest, and he picked up his pace as much as he could.
He bought two coffees, and could feel the stare of the woman who’d served him as he tried to work out how best to hold them, how to pin the kite to his chest with his upper arm. To squash the embarrassment, he grinned up at her and said, ‘I might be being a bit ambitious. How did Mr Poppins manage it?’
‘I don’t think Mr Poppins bought coffee for everyone.’
‘Right,’ Ash said. ‘Well, first time for everything, I guess.’
‘Good luck!’ she called after him, as he tried to negotiate the packed market with the addition of hot coffee.
No Vase Like Home was busy with people browsing, picking up the hares that Jess seemed to hate so much, a couple of customers waiting to be served at the counter. Ash looked over their heads, but he could only see Jess’s boss, Wendy, her reddish-brown hair cascading over her shoulders. He stood in a corner, felt the press of cushions at his back, and tried to get his pulse to settle.
While Wendy served, Ash watched the doorway behind the counter, waiting for Jess to step out of it. The coffees were starting to burn his palms, but he didn’t dare put them down in case he spilled them on something precious.
‘Ash?’ He looked up. Wendy was peering at him over the head of the woman she was serving.
‘Hey,’ he said.
‘She’s not here. She’s...’ Her attention was drawn back to her customer. ‘Oh no,’ he heard her say. ‘I can wrap it for you, so...’
‘Right,’ he said to himself, disappointment settling in his stomach. He thought she’d had fun last week, amidst the chaos of the park. ‘Thanks,’ he called as he left the shop. He thought he heard Wendy say something else, probably some kind of apology, but she was busy, and he didn’t want to get in the way any more than he had already.
He chose the least busy aisle and walked slowly, looking at the stalls, feeling like an idiot with two coffees to drink and a redundant kite. How was he going to fill the hour without Jess? Before he had met her, he’d found it easy. Browsing, chatting to the stallholders. Now, his mind felt empty, his ability to joke and laugh robbed by disappointment. He’d only been in her company for two hours, and already a part of him had decided spending time with her was essential to him. How long would it take him to unlearn that? To face what came next without her?
‘If I can help you with anything, please just ask.’
Ash looked up. He’d stopped in front of a jewellery stall, the sparse pieces beautiful and intricate. The vendor stood behind the table, watching him with kind brown eyes.
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I’ll let you know.’
‘Best jewellery in all of London.’ The man who’d sidled up to him was wearing a shimmery grey jacket over a Mr. Men T-shirt, a red fedora perched on top of a wild mane of curls. ‘Like your kite, dude.’
‘Thanks,’ Ash said again, and relaxed a fraction.
‘Can I see?’ The man tipped his hat back and held his hands out. ‘I’ll take the coffees.’
‘You want to see my kite?’
‘Not been up close and personal with one of these in years. I’m Spade, by the way. One of the market ghouls.’
‘A ghoul?’ Ash laughed, confused, but he was already handing over the coffees, unfurling the kite from where he’d had it tucked under his arm. Perhaps he’d be able to hang out here after all, and maybe he’d even forget about Jess for upwards of thirty seconds at a time. Maybe, he thought, as he untangled the ribboned tail, and Spade whistled in a way that he didn’t think was ironic, there was hope for him yet.