The Happy Hour

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Five

When she saw him on Tuesday, standing against one of the pillars at the entrance to the market, his dark hair slightly too long, his navy T-shirt hugging him in all the right places and his jeans faded at the knee, Jess felt sadness and longing and relief. It hadn’t been that long, but she’d missed him, and it had hurt even more knowing what he was going through.

He noticed her and raised a hand in greeting. She could see he was attempting a smile, but it wasn’t quite working.

‘Hello.’ She stopped in front of him.

‘Jess,’ he said. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m OK.’ She exhaled. ‘Better than you, I imagine? I’m so sorry, Ash. I’m sorry about—’

‘Hey.’ He squeezed her arm. ‘Let’s get some food, talk somewhere that’s less of a thoroughfare.’

‘You’re right. Japanese?’

‘Great.’

They got their food and walked through the market, which was much emptier than at the weekends but still humming quietly with activity.

‘Ash!’ Olga held her arms out. ‘You’re back!’

‘Just for today.’ He waited while she came round her stall and hugged him, but Jess could see the stiffness in his shoulders, like he was refusing to give into her easy warmth. ‘It’s good to see you.’

‘You too,’ Olga said. ‘I’m glad Jess tracked you down.’

‘Oh, I didn’t—’

‘I know Spade goes on about market ghouls, but what would this place be, what would we be, without our customers? Even if you don’t buy anything, just lingering here will make other people turn and look, see?’

‘Sure,’ Ash said.

‘You were never a ghoul to me.’ Olga shook her head.

‘We haven’t got long,’ Jess said, even though it wasn’t true. She pressed her hand into Ash’s back and nudged him forwards. It was such a familiar movement, she’d done it playfully so many times, but now it just felt bossy. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t sure how you felt about that word.’

He looked back at her. ‘What word?’

Jess chewed her lip. ‘If I say it, then I’m part of the problem.’

‘What? Oh – you mean ghoul?’

‘Yeah.’

‘It’s fine, honestly,’ he said, and led them out of the market.

It wasn’t that long ago that they’d walked along this road in the evening sunshine, holding hands. Now it felt as if there was an invisible barrier between them, Ash gripping the paper bag with his lunch in, moving past people carelessly. Jess was glad when they reached the park, and they could walk side by side.

‘How long are you off work for?’ Jess asked.

‘Until the end of this week. My boss is sympathetic, but he doesn’t listen.’ He glanced at her. ‘Would you want to be away from work if you... if something like this had happened to you? I just want to be busy.’

‘But if you’re dealing with a lot, not necessarily thinking straight, then isn’t it best if you’re not at work? Especially considering—’

‘My work is all about thinking straight,’ he finished.

‘And right now, you need to think about yourself and nobody else.’

‘And you,’ Ash said. ‘I have to think about you too, after everything.’

‘Everything,’ Jess repeated. In the current situation, it felt like an ominous word.

When they reached the top of the hill, Jess’s legs were burning. The air smelled of summer flowers and suncream, and picnic blankets were spread across the grass, people lounging or kicking balls, dogs trotting at their owners’ sides in the sunshine.

‘Oh,’ she said, coming to a stop. There was a grey-haired couple sitting on their bench, a cooler bag between them. It reminded Jess of Ash’s first visit to Felicity’s house, when he’d wiggled his fingers through the hole in her National Trust cooler to defuse the tension. She watched as the man held a cloth napkin out to the woman, and she pressed it elegantly against her mouth.

Ash had stopped too, and was watching the couple intently. Then he blinked and said, ‘Come on, we can sit on the grass.’

They moved a little way down the hill, but then the grey-haired man zipped up the cool bag, stood up and held his hand out, and the woman took it. Jess felt awkward as she and Ash hovered, but the woman gave them a little wave, then gestured to the bench. ‘Enjoy,’ she said, and the couple walked away, in the direction of the car park.

Jess exhaled. It felt like being able to sit here, on this bench that had been the site of one of their happy Sundays, was a good sign.

‘After you,’ Ash said. She slid onto the bench, and he sat down beside her.

They took out their food, the waft of soy and spices delicious and enticing. But, despite picking her favourite dishes, Jess’s stomach felt heavy, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to take a single bite. She turned towards Ash, watching as he unscrewed his water bottle and took a long sip, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

‘I’m sorry about all the things I said, and that I told you to leave.’ She rushed it out, because even though there wasn’t a time limit on today, it felt more fragile than any of her meetings with Ash so far.

He shifted on the bench to face her, his knee pressing against hers. ‘I’m sorry for what I said, too. It was unforgivable.’

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘No, I—’

‘It was,’ he said. ‘I don’t want you to be gentle with me because of my dad. This is important. Of course you have a family; it was horrible – cruel – of me to say you didn’t. I lashed out, probably because what you’d said to me, about me not having to go and see my dad, was too close to everything I’d been grappling with. I felt like a fake every time I went, and the truth is...’ He puffed out a breath. ‘I didn’t agree immediately. I said no to Mum for a long time, and when I finally did go, it took me three weeks – or four, I can’t remember – to even go into his room. I sat in the waiting room while Peggy got me a coffee, failed to work up the courage, and then left again.’

‘That’s hardly surprising,’ Jess said quietly.

‘When I eventually went in, I thought it would be cathartic, seeing him like that. He was a really physical dad, always mending something, lifting me and Dylan up. Piggybacks, football. I hardly ever saw him sitting still, so...’

‘But it wasn’t how you thought it would be?’

‘No,’ he admitted. ‘I was just angry and sad, and I felt as helpless as him, because I didn’t think it was fair to say everything I wanted to.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s not an excuse for what I said to you, but that’s the reason I said it. I agreed with you, but I was trapped: I had to go. Now he’s gone, and it’s worse. All those feelings are still there.’

‘Ash.’ She put her hand on his knee, but he flinched away.

‘No,’ he said. Then, more quietly, ‘I can’t do this, Jess.’

She went still. The breeze danced around her, rustling the leaves in the trees. ‘Can’t do what?’

He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his food forgotten on the bench beside him. ‘This. Us. It wouldn’t be right to subject you to all the shit I’m dealing with. It’s the worst time for me to start something serious.’

‘But we aren’t starting,’ Jess said. ‘We’ve been meeting up for months. I know you. I’m really sorry about everything I said—’

‘It’s not about that.’

‘What is it about, then?’ She tried to keep the hurt out of her voice.

He squinted down the hill towards the trees. ‘You were the only good thing about the days I came here. You and Peggy. Having something to look forward to, instead of just the dread of seeing him; it made the whole thing bearable.’ He winced. ‘That sounds awful. You made me happy.’

‘But now your dad’s dead, you don’t need me any more?’

‘No! Jess – that’s not it.’ He sat up and turned towards her. ‘You know when we were shouting at each other the other night?’

She nodded. There was a sick inevitability to this scene, except this time, she wasn’t the one ending the relationship prematurely.

‘You accused me of not letting you in, of not being honest with you. And I do shut people out, especially when it comes – came – to my dad. If we made a go of this, if we saw each other properly, I’d push you away. I’d keep telling myself that you’d understand, and that you were happy for me to share everything, but I... I wouldn’t do it.’ He looked directly at her. ‘I’d be too worried about ruining it before we’d even got going.’

Jess swallowed. ‘So – what? You’re pre-empting it? Ending it before it has a chance to go sour?’ It was exactly the sort of thing she did. She hated that she couldn’t even have the moral high ground.

‘I’m saying that I am not great boyfriend material right now. If we tried, then I’d fuck it up and you’d never want to speak to me again.’

‘I don’t get it. You’re saying that, by walking away now, you’re hoping to save us both some heartache, and that we might be able to pick this up again later?’

‘No!’ He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘I mean – maybe? I don’t...’ He rubbed his forehead, and all Jess’s anger leached out of her.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly. This time when she squeezed his knee, he let her.

‘I’m sorry,’ Ash said. ‘I just can’t give you the attention – the commitment – that you deserve. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met.’

Jess licked her lips, which were dry despite the three coffees she’d had earlier, waiting for the clock to tick round, far too slowly, to midday. ‘So even if I tell you that I’ll be here for you whatever happens, whatever you need to do, and that I want to help you through this so we can come out the other side together, you would still say no?’

He pressed his lips together and didn’t answer.

‘Right,’ she whispered.

On some level, she understood it. But she couldn’t ignore the voice whispering in her ear, telling her that she wasn’t worth it: she wasn’t good enough at this to be the one who looked after him; she wasn’t Peggy, with her natural ability for caring, or Lola, with her sunny smiles and can-do attitude. She knew this about herself, but it still hurt. ‘You don’t think I’m strong enough to be there for you?’

His hand came on top of hers so quickly that she jumped. ‘Of course you’re strong enough,’ he said firmly. ‘But I care about you, and I don’t want to push you away by being impossible to spend time with.’ He let out a harsh sigh. ‘We fitted, didn’t we? Into this neat box.’ He gestured at the park, with its dog walkers and ball games, and the proud, pale buildings kissed by the afternoon sun, the dark snake of the Thames and the winking skyscrapers beyond. ‘Our one hour a week, our subtle superpowers. Kissing you—’

‘We broke out of it, though.’ She tried sohard not to sound as if she was pleading with him. ‘We helped Felicity, we had cold pizza and breakfast together. We did more than kiss.’

He nodded. ‘Then the one time I thought I could be there for you, you pushed me away.’

‘But that was—’

‘I’m not accusing you, Jess. I’ve been doing the same thing ever since we met. Not telling you about Dad, keeping it separate, like I could actually control any of it.’ His voice cracked, and it broke a dam inside her, all the emotion rushing up, filling her chest and tightening her throat.

‘You don’t think we can get out of the box,’ she said.

She felt, rather than saw him shrug. ‘I don’t think so, no.’ He squeezed her hand and leaned gently into her, a solid wall of warmth down her left side.

The worst part of it was, everything he said made sense. Could she really comfort him through his grief when, the first time he’d come to see her spontaneously, she’d turned him away? Would she ever be confident that he wasn’t keeping something from her? Their time together had been fun and it had felt safe and – in the beginning, at least – there hadn’t been too many expectations. But the logic didn’t match the deep ache spreading through her sternum at the thought of not seeing him again, of not getting to kiss or hold him, or drink coffees with him on a windy day on a bench in the park.

‘Will we stay in touch?’ she asked. ‘We could still message sometimes, couldn’t we?’

‘Sure,’ he said, then cleared his throat.

‘I keep thinking of all these new subtle superpowers. The motivational quotes, they’re everyone’s now, but I feel like... the superpowers, they’re just ours. I wanted to tell you, but—’

‘You can always tell me,’ he assured her. ‘We’ll build a list.’

‘Keeping house plants alive,’ she said.

‘Never burning toast, even in an unfamiliar toaster.’

‘Knowing, without a doubt, that someone will be your person, even though you’ve never spoken to them, and you’ve only seen them through a window, laughing and trying on hats.’

She glanced at him, and found that he was already looking at her. Her cheeks were damp but she didn’t care. Ash was one of the few people she wasn’t ashamed to cry in front of.

He brushed one of her tears away with his thumb. ‘Being able to deliver the city’s best film tour, even though you’ve only seen half the films, simply because you’re wearing a grey trilby.’

Her laugh was watery. ‘You only pulled it off because of Dave the spaniel. Otherwise it would have been a total flop. Apart from the kiss at the end.’

‘Apart from the kiss,’ he agreed. His smile was as broken as she felt. ‘I have had an amazing time with you, Jessica Peacock. Please don’t ever underestimate yourself.’

‘Thank you for spending time with me, and for helping Felicity, and just...’ She inhaled, knowing she was on the verge of losing it. ‘For being you, and letting me share your youness.’

He squinted. ‘Share your youness?’

She laughed again, this time through sobs. ‘Shut up, Ash.’

His grin was so unexpected, such a strong reminder of the happy hours she’d had with him, that she almost couldn’t breathe. If this had been a different time, under different circumstances, she knew they could have loved each other.

‘You’ve changed me,’ she admitted. ‘For the better. I won’t forget you, OK? And I’ll message you my subtle superpowers, and we’ll... still know each other, a little bit. Text friends.’

‘Text friends,’ he repeated, but this time his smile didn’t reach his eyes, and she already knew that, even if they started out messaging each other, he’d slowly extricate himself, leave longer gaps between replies, until there was nothing but digital dust on their WhatsApp thread.

He moved to get up, and Jess felt a surge of panic. ‘Will you be OK?’

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘This is life, isn’t it? I’ve hit a speed bump, and it’ll take me a while, but I’ll get over it eventually.’ He sounded resolute, and she wondered if he was putting on the show for her, or for himself.

He stood up, and she went to do the same, but he leaned over and cupped her cheek, then pressed a kiss against her forehead. ‘Bye, Jess.’

She inhaled, hiccuped, but couldn’t hold in the sob. ‘Bye Ash.’

He slid his hand through her hair, then stood up straight. ‘Take care of yourself.’

She watched him turn and walk away, his head down,his long strides hurried. She waited for him to glance over hisshoulder and wave at her, to change his mind and come racing back along the path, fall in the scrubby grass at her feet and pull her against him. They hadn’t even hugged. She hadn’t got to press her cheek against his chest one last time, or feel his arms tighten around her, and the realisation intensified the ache, made her tears fall faster, her sobs louder.

‘Oh goodness!’

Jess looked up at the woman wearing a sky-blue jacket, a long, full skirt, and tried to place her through her film of tears. Then she heard yapping, and a familiar cloud of white fur was bouncing up at her, its nose snuffling against her carton of gyozas.

‘Diamanté,’ she said.

‘Are you OK?’ The woman peered down at her. ‘I am so sorry about my dog. I’ve been taking her to behavioural training, but it’s done bugger all so far, as you can see.’

Jess bubbled out a laugh. ‘Can I hold her?’ Her voice broke on the last word, and the woman’s eyes softened.

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘She’s a yapper, but she doesn’t bite.’

‘Thank you.’ Jess bent down and picked up the wriggling dog. She held her against her chest, and buried her head in her soft fur. After a moment, Diamanté stopped struggling.

Too late to care about embarrassment, Jess sobbed into the white fluff of the dog she and Ash had laughed about, and tried to accept that he was gone. She tried to come to terms with how horrible it felt, and that the reason she had felt everything with him, so completely – happiness and longing and desire, anger when he’d turned up unannounced, pleasure when he kissed and touched her, devastation right now – was that, despite everything, she had let him all the way in. She’d let herself fall in love with him.

It was a mistake she’d tried so hard to avoid in the past, and now every cell in her body was facing the repercussions.

Jessica Peacock, currently sobbing into the soft fur of the demon Diamanté dog on a bench in Greenwich Park, was in love with Ash Faulkner, and she’d realised it just as he’d said goodbye to her for the last time. As moments went, it was a pretty crap one. And yet, whereas usually such intense misery would send her running to her room, drawing the curtains and turning her phone off, right now she wanted to join in while Lola and Malik clocked up their Fitbit steps in front of the TV, eat muffins with Wendy, find Spade and ask for one of his famous headlock-hugs.

And that, she realised, as she gave the woman in the sky-blue coat a sheepish smile and handed her soggy dog back, had been Ash’s gift to her. He’d made her see that she wasn’t better on her own, that she could draw on the strength of the people she loved. She just wished he’d listened to his own advice.

She would always carry around a piece of him, even when the memories of their time together faded, and he was nothing more than a discarded, low-down-the-list message thread in her phone: a ‘what could have been’that never was.

Jess stood up and watched Diamanté race down the hill, her owner struggling to keep up, and then slowly followed their path through the park, leaving her and Ash’s bench sitting empty behind her.