The Happy Hour

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Four

Usually, Ash felt calm in his flat. He didn’t mind spending time on his own, with a book or a film or his thoughts. He wasn’t the kind of person who craved company all the time, like his brother Dylan. But right now, being alone – with onlythe ticking of the clock above the tiny kitchen table to break thequiet – felt like a slow, solitary road to self-destruction.

He walked over to the coffee machine, saw that the jug was empty, and wondered if eleven on a Sunday morning was too early to open a beer. But he’d taken that route on Tuesday and it hadn’t ended well.

Nico Lombardo was dead. The man who Ash had thought about even when he hadn’t wanted to, when he was only a hazy memory of a big laugh and arms that had hugged him tightly, and a bitter feeling of being left behind. But now that laugh and those arms were gone for good, and Ash couldn’t wrap his head around it. The senselessness of it, along with his anger, were bubbles inflating inside his chest, and if he didn’t get them out somehow, they would keep growing until they broke him apart.

In his old life – the life of a fortnight ago – he would be on his way to Greenwich now, looking forward to chatting to Olga or Susie, anticipation building at the thought of seeing Jess. His anger had died almost as soon as he’d left her flat that Thursday, replaced by guilt at what he’d said to her; how, in the moment, he’d found the perfect, cruel words to push her away, when part of him had only wanted to bring her closer. But the phone call from Peggy the next day had changed things, and though his fingers had hovered over Jess’s messages a hundred times, and he’d watched her name appear on the screen as she rang him, he hadn’t known what to say.

Right now, he wasn’t fit to spend time with anyone. He’d gone to work on Monday and, within an hour, his boss had come into his office, sat opposite him at his desk, and signed him off for a week, minimum. If he went to stay with his mum, he’d just make it worse for her. She wouldn’t want to talk about Nico, would rather not waste any more time or emotions on him, and Ash didn’t think he could sit there amongst everything that wasn’t being said.

There had been paperwork and phone calls from the hospice; so much to sort out. A funeral, here in England, that Ash already knew he’d go to, even if he was the only one. He wondered how many people Nico had been in touch with in Italy, if they would have a send-off more suited to the outgoing man he’d been.

His phone buzzed on the coffee table and, closing the fridge, he went to look at the message. It was from Peggy.

I’m so sorry, Ash, but Jess knows. I wasn’t careful enough with my words, and her boss guessed. Are you doing all right?

It explained why he’d had more calls from Jess over the last couple of days. They’d tailed off a few days after their argument, but now they were back, and he still hadn’t answered them. How could he ask her to support him when she had thought he was doing the wrong thing visiting his dad? He sent a reply:

It’s fine, honestly. How was she? I’m OK. Missing your chickpea and lemon curd sandwich right about now.

You never tried it! Jess misses you. She looked pretty cut up when she realised. You could talk to her, you know. Failing that, you can talk to me.

A smile creased his cheeks.

Your job is done, Peg. I didn’t pay for the aftercare package. Seriously though, thank you for everything. And Jess deserves more than I can give her right now. Maybe in a few months. Take care.

A few months and someone else will be bringing her coffee! Don’t lose the one good thing to come out of all this. Aftercare package is included. I’m not going anywhere. Px

Ash rested his head against the sofa. He couldn’t get that last image out of his head, the one he’d been met with when he’d left work on that Friday lunchtime and travelled, almost blindly, to Greenwich, to the pristine front door and Peggy leading him down the familiar corridor.

Nico was still in the bed, but the monitors were silent and so was he. He looked softer, as if all the ambition and the anger that had lived inside him, tightening his muscles, had gone. More than anything, his dad had looked peaceful, and it was in that moment, when it was too late, that Ash had felt a swell of compassion for him and all the mistakes he’d made. It felt as useless as all his other emotions right now.

He got up, determined to get that beer, and there was a knock on the door. His first thought was that it was Jess, and his heart leapt, the first positive thing he’d felt in over a week. He opened the door and found Mack, a newspaper under his arm, holding two mugs of coffee.

‘I had to put one of these on the floor so I could knock, and you know how hard it is for me to bend. Let me in, will you please?’

Ash’s jaw tightened.

‘It’s not a request, but you already know that.’ The older man stood his ground until Ash stepped back and let him in, then he walked through the living room and put the mugs and paper on the small kitchen table, beneath the ticking clock.

‘I told you I couldn’t make it.’ Ash’s voice was rusty. He thought that the last person he’d spoken to, beyond texts and WhatsApps, had been Dylan, two mornings before.

‘Because your dad died.’ Mack pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘I know it’s hard. When you’re my age you get used to losing people, but used to isn’t the same as easy. What are your plans for today?’

Ash looked away.

‘Right, then. Come and sit down, and we’ll do the crossword together.’

‘I don’t have time for crosswords.’

‘Because you’re too busy wallowing?’

Ash glared at him.

‘You can make room for a coffee and a crossword amongst all that,’ Mack said, unperturbed. ‘You might even find a few moments of happiness.’

‘I told you—’

‘And it could be that I have an interesting tale to tell,’ Mack went on. ‘About how someone banged on your door earlier in the week. A woman with dark hair and dark eyes, who said she was looking for you. Said her name was Jess.’

‘What?’

‘It was Tuesday evening.’ Mack narrowed his eyes. ‘I don’t know where you were, but judging by the bangs in the corridor that woke me up in the early hours the following morning, I would have wagered that a pub was involved.’ He flipped open the newspaper.

‘Jess was here?’ The last few days had blurred into a succession of empty hours, except that Tuesday was the one day he’d given into the urge for numbness, met some colleagues when they’d finished for the day, then carried on drinking when they’d all gone home. He’d ended up making his way to Greenwich, though fuck knows how he’d managed the route in the state he was in. He’d stood under her window like a pathetic, booze-soaked Romeo, and even imagined that she’d called out to him. But he must have made it up, and even if he hadn’t, it wasn’t the way he wanted to see her again: stupidly drunk and stuck in his complicated grief.

He’d had no idea that, earlier that day, she’d come to find him; that despite what he’d said to her, she cared enough to come all this way.

‘Why didn’t you say?’ He sat down at the table.

‘I would have, if you’d answered your door.’ Mack glared at him, unapologetic, and Ash felt his lips twitch. Self-pity was not an acceptable state to his neighbour.

‘It’d better not be a cryptic crossword,’ he said. ‘You know I’m hopeless at those.’

‘You’ll only stay hopeless if you don’t try, Ash.’ Mack flipped to the right page, and Ash angled his body so he could see. For the first time in days, he felt some of the tension leave his shoulders.

*

Once Mack had gone, he made himself baked beans on toast, something he knew would satisfy his sorely neglected stomach.

He thought about what he’d said to Jess all those weeks ago, about how it was the people who mattered at the market, not what they were selling. He’d believed that it was better for him to be by himself until he felt less untethered, but Mack’s visit had shown him it didn’t work like that. He needed other people to anchor him, and he needed to be honest with Jess.

He made himself a cup of tea and pulled up their messages, reading through the last few she’d sent.

Ash, I’m so sorry. Are you doing OK? I’m here if you want to talk.

I never should have said the things I did. I know you have so much to deal with right now, but one day I’d love the chance to apologise properly.

Please just send me a thumbs up, so I know you’re OK. This caring about people business is messing with my head. ?? xx

He typed a reply:

Hey, Jess. Peggy told me that you know my dad died.

I haven’t felt able to get in touch before now, but I owe you an explanation. You said you want to apologise, but that’s what I need to do. How about the bench in the park? You say when. xx

He flung his phone aside and scrolled through the streaming services until he found one of his favourite films, hoping it would distract him. It took her less than half an hour to reply.

Oh Ash I’m so glad to hear from you! I am so sorry about your dad. Yes to meeting up – I’d love that. Are you off work at the moment? What about Tuesday afternoon? It’s my day off, so we could take some lunch to the park. xx

He rubbed his eyes, the knots tightening in his shoulders as he replied.

Tuesday’s fine. Midday? I’ll meet you in the food hall, then we can go together. Ax

Perfect. And I really am sorry. I need you to know that now, before I see you. xx

He puffed out a breath, ran a hand through his hair. He closed his eyes for a moment before he replied, hoping she would look at this message in the future, and know that he meant it.

I know. I’m really sorry, too. For all of it. See you Tuesday.