The Happy Hour

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

Ash turned up at the shop on Sunday wearing jeans with rips in the knees and a grey T-shirt darkened by rain. The damp cotton clung to him, giving Jess a tantalising glimpse of a body that was lean but strong: collarbones and biceps and defined shoulders she wanted to feel beneath her palms. He looked ready for his starring role – hot guy doing battle with a house full of mess – and a delicious shiver ran down her spine.

‘I have no idea if Felicity likes coffee, or if she’ll be offended that I’ve brought drinks,’ he said.

Jess had come to look forward to his beverage-related greetings. ‘And yet here you are with your cardboard cup carrier.’

‘I couldn’t turn up empty-handed. How are you?’ His grey eyes were bright with anticipation, no sign of the dread Jess had felt all morning at the thought of going back to Felicity’s house.

‘I’m OK,’ she said. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’

He glanced at Wendy.

‘Don’t worry, I know,’ she said from behind the counter, where she was flicking through a homeware magazine.

‘I know you know about Felicity,’ Ash told her. ‘I just wasn’t sure how honest to be in front of you.’

‘I would say not at all—’ Jess started.

‘You were about to admit that you didn’t mind helping Felicity, but that you’d much rather spend the next hour kissing the sense out of my very best colleague, is that it?’

Jess gasped out loud, then felt like an idiot.

Ash laughed. ‘I can be completely honest, then.’

‘Nothing gets past me.’ Wendy smiled at him. ‘But I think it’s great, what you’re doing. Not just the kissing, but with Felicity. Especially as you have some experience, Ash. Not necessarily with this particular issue, but...’

‘Yeah, this is a new one for me,’ he said. ‘But as long as we’re careful, and let Felicity lead the way, I hope we can help her see things differently.’

‘And you’ll look after Jess?’

‘I don’t need looking after, Mum.’ Jess picked up her bag from the storeroom.

‘Of course,’ Ash said seriously.

‘Have a lovely time,’ Wendy called gleefully as Jess turned Ash around in the doorway – he was entirely pliable – and pushed him out into the market.

‘She’s great,’ he said, as they navigated the throng. The rain drummed steadily on the roof, and even though the sky was grey, the market was still colourful, with its dangling hearts and cheerful stalls, visitors in their weekend-bright dresses and jackets. It was never a monochrome place.

‘She’s a challenge,’ Jess replied.

‘But you love her.’

‘She’s all right.’ Jess couldn’t have sounded any more like a petulant teenager, and Ash laughed gently.

‘Did you get away OK?’ she asked, after they’d left the market behind.

‘It was fine,’ Ash said. ‘I got Mack his paper, stayed for twenty minutes so he could rant about the latest climate change conspiracy’ – he rolled his eyes – ‘then escaped. And now, we have two whole hours.’

‘You remember what we’re spending the next two hours doing, don’t you?’

‘Of course. But it doesn’t mean that’s all we’re doing.’ They’d reached a quieter, residential road, and Ash put the coffee carrier on the low wall of the house they were outside.

‘What’s happening?’ Jess asked.

‘Come here.’ Ash’s voice was soft, and as she stepped towards him, he put his hands on her hips.

‘It’s raining,’ she said, but it had faded to a barely there drizzle. She was in her own pair of tatty jeans and a navy T-shirt, a thin hoody slung over the top, but she might as well have been naked for the way sensation shivered through her at Ash’s touch. His kiss was gentle, and she closed her eyes so she could focus on feeling, on living in this moment: kissing Ash in the rain, in broad daylight, in the street. She didn’t even care if people were looking, judging, disapproving.

‘I feel much more prepared now,’ she whispered, when they pulled apart.

‘Good,’ Ash said roughly. ‘Me too.’

‘It’s just up here.’

‘Lead the way.’ Ash retrieved the coffees, and they walked up the hill together.

Felicity opened the door wearing a dove-grey dress and pearl earrings, as if she was off to have afternoon tea at the Langham. Ash looked a little taken aback, and Jess wondered if she should have spent more time explaining how complete Felicity’s denial was.

‘Jessica, Ash – thank you for coming. Do come in.’ She stepped back, into the narrow space left in her hallway. Jess threw Ash a quick smile and walked into the house.

‘Lovely to see you, Felicity,’ Ash said, following her in. Jess heard something fall behind him – a stack of papers, perhaps, as he’d brushed past it.

‘You’ve brought coffee, too.’ Felicity clasped her hands. ‘How wonderful of you. Shall we go into the living room?’

‘That sounds great,’ Jess said, but she had to stifle her gasp when she stepped through the door. With high ceilings and a large bay window, it was a proud, elegant space that could have been gorgeous. As it was, she could just make out a sofa, one cushion exposed beneath the piles of things, a white cat lying on it, curled up asleep. There was the narrowest of walkways, a clear line of sight to a television, the screen covered with a thick layer of dust, and then books and papers, heaps of folded clothes, boxes of biscuits, crackers and chocolates everywhere, everything in high, teetering piles.

Jess thought there must be a fireplace against the far wall, but it was obscured by a row of dining chairs, several plastic storage crates resting on top of them.

‘This is...’ she started, then noticed one of Wendy’s hares standing on top of a box. Felicity must have bought it on a day when Jess wasn’t working. It looked smug, as if ending up here, overseeing this chaos, had been its goal all along.

‘Who’s this guy?’ Ash put the coffees on the floor and bent to stroke the white cat.

‘This is Twiggy,’ Felicity said. ‘He’s a sweetheart.’ She stood next to Ash and chucked the cat under the chin. ‘I don’t know where Bond and Artemis are.’ She smiled at Jess, then her shoulders sagged. ‘I do feel as if I could have been a better hostess, but I haven’t had the time to tidy, lately. Life gets so busy.’ Her laugh was high and anxious.

‘Have a coffee,’ Ash said. ‘I have cappuccino or Americano. I wasn’t sure if you took milk.’

‘Cappuccino would be wonderful,’ Felicity said.

‘Thank you.’

He handed her a cup. ‘I don’t think I spilled any of it on the way here.’

Jess gave Ash a secret smile as he handed her an Americano.

He returned it, then said, ‘Can I sit next to your cat, Felicity?’

‘Twiggy would love that.’ Felicity perched on a low pile of books, and Jess wondered if she knew the towers of stuff like a well-trodden obstacle course: which were safe to sit on, which were too precarious. Jess glanced around, looking for somewhere she could sit that wouldn’t be a catastrophe, and found a duvet bunched up in an opaque bin liner. She lowered herself gingerly onto it.

‘Tell me about the cats.’ Ash stroked Twiggy, his tanned hand dark against the cat’s white fur. ‘Are they rescues?’

‘Bond is,’ Felicity said. ‘My friend Coco found him, abandoned as a kitten outside her apartment block in Lambeth, and she isn’t allowed pets, so she asked if I’d like him. I’d recently lost one of my older cats, Marigold, and I was feeling all at sea.’

‘Losing pets is always hard,’ Ash said. ‘They’re part of the family.’

‘Do you have any?’

‘Unfortunately not. We’re not allowed them in my apartment block, either. I think my contract says I could have a goldfish, but they’re not the same, are they?’ He ruffled Twiggy behind the ears, and she purred loudly. ‘What about the other one? Twiggy, Bond and...’

‘Artemis,’ Felicity said. ‘Oh, now he is a real terror. The leader of the bunch.’

As they talked, Jess noticed the way Ash spoke to Felicity, gently teasing details from her while also making her feel comfortable, softening her apprehension. Outwardly, he seemed entirely relaxed, but she knew him well enough now that she could see a tightness in his jaw, as if he was on a mission; in professional mode, determined to help.

He was almost too good to be true: certainly too good to let go. This kind, funny man who wanted to spend his Sundays with her, who had so readily agreed to come here today. She didn’t want to rely on him – she didn’t want to rely on anyone, entirely – and even though he wouldn’t tell her what it was, she had a sense that, whatever he did after seeing her, the reason he was in Greenwich in the first place, wouldn’t go on for ever. She had let herself enjoy it because there was something about it that felt temporary.

But today he’d arrived at the shop looking so gorgeous and necessary, already an essential part of her Sundays, and she’d realised that giving him up would be like finding a winning lottery ticket and gifting it to someone else, or throwing it off a bridge so the wind caught it and snatched it away.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she heard Felicity say, and tuned back into their conversation.

‘Only if you fancy it,’ Ash said gently. ‘It’s impossible to know where to start, sometimes. You get focused on other things, and then the job seems too big. But three pairs of hands are better than one.’ His smile was so warm and inviting, Jess didn’t think anyone would be able to resist it, but Felicity had put her coffee down and was wringing her hands.

‘I’m not sure.’ She looked around with wide eyes, and Jess realised Ash had decided to tackle the hoarding head on. ‘I just... all these things, they have a purpose.’

Ash nodded. ‘Of course. They’re your belongings. We wouldn’t have to get rid of a thing, I just wondered if you’d like our help to organise them a bit better. We could focus on one space, perhaps clear these few bits off the sofa, so your cats could snuggle up together.’ He tapped the cushion next to him, which was buried under plastic takeaway containers.

Jess couldn’t imagine Felicity eating a chow mein or a vindaloo, but she could see what Ash was doing: framing it as a way to help her cats, her saviours. She decided that this man, who had stopped a thief and then approached her in the market all those weeks ago, was some kind of miracle. He sipped his coffee, stroked Twiggy, and waited.

‘I just...’ Felicity tapped her fingers on her knee. Ash stayed quiet, so Jess did, too. ‘I suppose we could,’ the older woman said eventually. ‘Justthese few things, if you think that Bond and Artemis would like it?’

‘I’m sure they would,’ Ash said evenly. ‘We’ll take it slowly.’

He waited... waited, until Felicity got up and wove through the clutter to the sofa, then stopped in front of the piles of boxes, a few tatty magazines sticking out like the most chaotic game of Jenga.

‘All right,’ Felicity said. ‘What shall I... how shall we...?’

Ash stood and picked up the nearest thing. It was a green cool bag, the National Trust logo sewn onto the front. ‘Is this for picnics?’

Felicity nodded. ‘But it... the lining is damaged. I put a knife in it one time, and it sliced clean through. But it could be mended, do you think? It seems a shame to throw it away.’

Ash took his time examining the bag. ‘You know, I think this might be beyond repair. We could put it to one side, see if you have any others? But if it were me, I might well decide that I’d used it enough, that it was time to let it go.’

Felicity looked anxious. ‘Are you sure?’

‘It’s your decision,’ he said. ‘We could come back to it later?’

‘Oh yes, I... I think we should...’ As she spoke, Ash stuck his finger through a hole that went all the way through the bag. ‘Oh!’ She pressed her hands to her cheeks when Ash waggled two fingers through it, a goofy grin on his face. ‘Oh, of course let’s not keep it!’ She laughed, and this time it sounded genuine.

‘Where shall I put it?’ Ash asked, and Jess decided he was the most patient person in the world.

‘I just...’ She looked over at Jess, her expression pleading.

Jess turned an equally pleading, though she hoped more subtle, gaze on Ash. His smile was barely there, his nod tiny, but she felt his approval, felt as if she could help, if he thought she could.

‘Why don’t we make a pile by the front door?’ she suggested. ‘Then Ash and I could take the things you don’t need any more when we go.’ On their way here, just before they’d reached Felicity’s road, Jess had noticed a double garage, the concrete space in front of it containing a clothes bank, a cardboard bin and a general waste bin. She thought that, if Felicity agreed to get rid of anything, then it should go as quickly as possible, or it would get subsumed back into the house.

‘If you’re sure,’ Felicity said.

‘We’re happy to help,’ Ash said lightly, and handed Jessthe damaged bag. She took it into the hallway, then opened the front door and put it on the porch. One item down, she thought, as she watched a bee fly lazily to a tangle of white roses, their petals sparkling with raindrops, that were creeping up the side of Felicity’s house.

When she got back to the living room, Ash was holding a mug with a large chip in the lip. At this rate, it would take thirty years to go through everything. But, perhaps, if they helped give Felicity the confidence to do it, things might get a little bit easier, a little bit quicker, over time.

An hour had passed, leaving only half an hour until Ash needed to go wherever he went, and Jess had to get back to the shop. They had made decisions about a dozen things, and Felicity had agreed that she no longer needed seven of them. Ash was being unwaveringly patient, and Jess was battling a surge of feelings for him that were almost as overwhelming as the piles of clutter in Felicity’s house.

‘What about this?’ He picked up a purple blanket made of a soft, fleecy material. It was crumpled, and he shook it out then began folding it, tucking it under his chin so he could reach the bottom corners.

Jess stepped forward to help, but he’d worked quickly, and she knew she was being hopeless. Still, he flashed her a smile, then turned his attention to Felicity.

‘My husband bought that for me,’ she said, her uncertainty replaced by steeliness. ‘About a week before he left.’

‘Oh,’ Jess said. ‘I’m so sorry, Felicity. That must have been awful.’ But – alongside sympathy – she felt a wave of relief. It explained so much, her being abandoned by the man she loved. Couldn’t something like that trigger behaviour like this? The urge to hold onto things? If you decided to be on your own, if you were in charge of your solitude, then this wasn’t destined to be your fate.

‘He was an ambitious man,’ Felicity told them. ‘He wanted to go everywhere, see everything, meet new people all the time. He was a whirlwind of outlandish ideas, and I couldn’t keep up. I never truly felt a part of his plans.’

‘That’s terrible—’ Jess started, but then she glanced at Ash. He’d gone perfectly still, and was staring at the blanket in his hands. His chest rose on an inhale, and she was about to go over to him when he looked up. His expression was blank, his lips pressed into a thin line.

‘Ash? Are you—’

‘Could I have some water, Felicity?’ he asked, speaking over Jess.

‘Of course. The kitchen’s at the end of the hall.’

Ash held the blanket out for Jess, catching her eye for barely a second. When she took it he slipped past her, and she could hear the slow, soft pad of his Vans as he manoeuvred down the narrow walkway in the corridor.

Jess tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. ‘This is soft,’ she murmured, because she couldn’t think what else to say.

Felicity’s gaze was sharp. ‘You should go and check that he’s all right. I would wager that he’s not, and that he wants you there.’

‘You can’t know that.’ Jess wondered how Felicity could be so astute about other people, and still have got herself into this disastrous state.

‘Go and hug him, Jessica. He might not want to talk, but that was a man who needed a hug, if ever I saw one.’

‘OK.’ Her voice sounded pathetically small.

She handed Felicity the blanket and crept down the crammed corridor, into the kitchen with its Russian doll army and a million other things. She saw Ash through the window, standing next to the water feature with his back to the house.

She pushed open the door and sucked in a breath of crisp, rain-damp air. The water feature was bubbling away, competing with the pitter-patter of raindrops, and Jess took a step towards Ash, his shoulders a rigid, unyielding line.

‘Hey,’ she said gently.

He glanced at her then looked away. ‘Sorry. I just needed a minute.’

‘You’re so amazing with Felicity.’ She took another step forward, until her front was almost pressed against his back. ‘It must take a toll, though.’

He shook his head. ‘It’s not that.’

‘Can you tell me what it is?’

He cleared his throat. ‘I don’t... this isn’t about that.’

‘What isn’t about what?’

He turned around, and she saw that his eyes were red. She had no idea if he’d been rubbing the dust out of them, or if the water on his cheeks was raindrops. There was a tiny bit of purple fluff from the blanket caught in his stubble, and she reached up, teasing it out, smoothing her fingers along his jawline.

‘Thank you for bringing me here,’ he said.

Jess laughed quietly. ‘Are you kidding? My heart feels like it’s been pummelled. Poor Felicity.’

‘I know. But she’s open to working through it, so I think...’

‘If we commit to doing this for the next decade, we’ll make some progress? Maybe unearth the carpet in the living room?’

‘Accepting it, making the first move to face something, is the hardest part.’

‘You sound like you’re speaking from experience.’

Ash dropped his head, and Jess waited. The rain picked up its pace, and she could feel the ice-cold pellets on the back of her head, sliding down her neck. But she watched Ash, breath held, until he looked up.

‘I’d do this for the next decade,’ he said, ‘if it meant spending that time with you.’

Before she had a chance to process what he’d said, to come up with something to defuse the weight of it, he wrapped his arms around her. Instead of bending his head to kiss her, he dropped it onto her shoulder, burying his nose in her neck and breathing her in.

Jess ran her hand over his soft, wet hair and down his neck, and slid her other arm around his waist, pulling him tight against her. He was taller than her, but they fitted together perfectly: he felt so right tucked against her, both soft and solid, like Rodin’s sculpture of the kiss.

He pulled back eventually and murmured ‘thank you’ and then, ‘I need to go.’ He squeezed her hand before walking back into the house.

Jess followed him to the living room, and found Felicity folding up another blanket, this one red and green tartan. ‘I do wonder if the charity shop could make use of a few of these things,’ she told them.

Jess wanted to jump for joy, but Ash was calm and noncommittal when he said, ‘I expect they could.’ It was as if he’d wiped the last few minutes from his brain, tucked his hurt into a box. ‘We have to head off now, but do you want us to take the things we talked about?’

Felicity put the blanket down and gave them an anxious look.

‘Come and double check.’ Ash gestured for her to accompany him.

They went out onto the porch and, apart from a mug with a broken handle that she insisted she could use as a vase, she allowed them to take the handful of things with them.

‘You should come for afternoon tea, or for dinner one time,’ Felicity said, her hands clutching the skirt of her dress.

‘I’d love that,’ Ash assured her. ‘And I’m sure Jess will see you again soon.’

‘Of course,’ Jess said. She knew he meant that they should keep up the momentum, but she wasn’t sure she could do it without him, without his calm presence and his instinctive way of knowing exactly what to do.

They said goodbye, and she and Ash carried the broken items to the bins at the end of the road.

‘That went better than I thought.’ Ash glanced at his watch.

‘I didn’t think she’d get rid of anything. You were wonderful.’

He shrugged. ‘I had a few techniques I could call on. And she loves you, Jess. She looks up to you.’

‘Are you OK?’ She laced her fingers through his. ‘You know that I’m here, that I’ll help if I can.’

‘Thank you.’ He swallowed. ‘But nobody can help with this. And what we have, what we’re doing – that’s what matters. Getting to spend Sunday mornings with you.’

Jess wanted him to open up to her, wanted to force him to talk about it, but they were always running out of time. ‘Two hours next week?’ she said instead.

‘It’s a risk,’ he replied, mock-solemn. ‘Mack might turn on me, but I’ll try and work something out, OK?’

‘OK.’ She wanted more time with him. She would need to use his own tactics, coax the truth out of him slowly, just like he was doing with Felicity. ‘You’ll let me know when you can come?’

‘Of course. I need to head off in this direction, so...’

‘Sure. Bye, then.’

‘Bye, Jess.’ He cupped her cheek and pressed his lips against hers, and she couldn’t help thinking that it felt a little desperate, that there was something raw and untethered about his kiss. She was drunk on the feel of him, reluctant to let go, his hand warm and firm against her jaw.

They broke apart and he turned and walked away. Jess watched him until he was out of sight.

As she returned to the market, her rhythmic footsteps seemed to tap out a phrase: He’s. Mine. He’s. Mine. It was as if all of his smiles, his deep laugh, turning up in the doorway of No Vase Like Home with coffee every Sunday, and even – perhaps especially – that moment in Felicity’s garden, where he’d clung to her like she was his life raft, every one was a new link in a chain, and those links had banded together, tying them together in a way that was impossible to break. As she reached the alley where they’d kissed like teenagers the weekend before and the heavens opened properly, she realised that, whatever they had together, whatever these hours turned into, she wouldn’t be able to let Ash go, even if she wanted to.