Page 9 of Lessons in Love at the Seaside Salon
The other day she bumped into Sharnie, one of the school bitches, at the Gosford shops and she saw something different in Sharnie’s eyes: respect. Not something Josie saw in anyone’s eyes while she was at school.
So while Josie is still shy she feels more confident than she did even a year ago, which means she’s only slightly intimidated by the idea of starting work at a salon where she knows no one.
As she pushes open the door little bells tinkle and an older lady looks over from where she’s standing behind a chair. She has thick hair and she’s wearing a loose-fitting black dress. Practical in a salon, Josie thinks. There’s another hairdresser on the other side of the shop who doesn’t look over. She’s pretty, with her hair piled on top of her head in a loose bun, and she has on a floral top with a lace collar and a tight skirt. Less practical than the black dress but the outfit suits her. She’s combing out wet hair and chatting to her client.
‘Hello, pet,’ says the older hairdresser with a lovely smile. ‘You’re Josie, I’ll wager.’
‘Yes,’ Josie says, feeling a little calmer. ‘And I bet you’re Trudy.’
‘Correct.’ Trudy’s smile stays. ‘And that’s Evie.’
The other hairdresser looks up and waves a comb. ‘Hi,’ she says, then goes back to her client.
‘Pull up a pew.’ Trudy nods at an empty chair. ‘Once I’ve finished here I’ll give you the tour.’ She glances around and snorts. ‘Such as it is.’
‘Thank you.’ Josie smiles, grateful for the warm welcome.
‘Love your outfit,’ the client sitting in front of Trudy says, and Josie looks down as if she’s forgotten what she put on: a tube skirt – like Madonna would wear but revealing nothing – over lacy tights with a lacy top and a singlet underneath to stop her mother saying anything about it being ‘indecent’.
‘Thanks!’ She grins.
‘There are mags behind you,’ Trudy says.
Josie swivels in her chair. Magazines are always good for getting ideas for clothes and hair, so she likes to look at them even if she finds it hard to read the articles.
‘Thanks,’ she says again, then flips openMode. She doesn’t get this one at home.
It doesn’t hold her interest for long, though, because her eyes roam over the salon décor. The pink and orange is an interesting combination, she has to admit – not one her mother would ever allow, but then her mother gets all her style cues from Jacqueline Onassis, who would be really unlikely to put pink and orange together.
The mirrors look a little old – their frames are worn – but they’re clean. The place is tidy, and the windows that take up almost the whole front of the place make it look more spacious than it is. Even though the buildings on the other side of the road separate them from the beach, she can see the tops of the pine trees that line up next to the surf club along the promenade. They make her feel as if she’s almost working at the beach, which is pretty cool.
So this place is pink and orange, and pretty cool.
She catches the eye of Trudy, who winks, and Josie smiles back.
Sure, this salon isn’t what she expected, but it might be all right here. She starts reading the magazine properly and waits for Trudy to be ready for her.
CHAPTER FIVE
Another day, another opportunity for Trudy to drag herself around. Except today she’s worked up the energy to go somewhere other than the salon.
She never used to be a dragger. She was a bounce-into-the-dayer. A go-getter, even. Her movement was always forward, never backward. Now she’s either living in the past or revving in neutral.
It’s not good. It’s not right for a person to be stuck in the mire for so long.
Even her cat, Diogenes, thinks she’s bad company. He used to curl up on her lap while she watched TV; now he leaves the room when she walks in. Not that she’s surprised: he was always Laurie’s cat more than hers. Laurie named him after he read a book about Greek philosophers. Diogenes was just called Kitten at that stage as they waited to find a name that fit him. For some reason Laurie preferred Diogenes to Plato or Sophocles for his pet’s name. It makes Trudy smile to remember it. He had his quirks, her Laurie. Some might say that loving her was among them.
‘Isn’t that right, Dodge?’ she says as the cat passes by en route to his bowl. That’s the only way he gets close to her now: passing by. After Laurie died he was all over her, as if he was worried she would go away too. Then after a few months the ignoring phase began and has lasted ever since.
Does it count that she wants to ignore herself, too? There are nights when she’s sitting on the couch, blanket over her knees ifit’s cold, telly on and nothing registering, and she starts listing all the things she thinks are wrong with her. All the reasons why she’s a fool for not making the most of what’s left of the rest of her life.
Except she doesn’twant to, see. Rationally, yes, she knows what she should be doing. But her heart … oh, her heart tells her different things. It tells her that it’s broken. That it will never be mended. And even though she thinks that’s so dramatic, that she would never have picked herself as being a woman who let herself get carried away over a broken heart, she can’t help it. It’s just about the most powerful emotion of her life, and it’s taken her completely by surprise.
She tried to talk to her son about it, figuring he might be feeling the same. When they spoke three weekends ago – he called her, which almost blew her socks off with the surprise of it – he asked how she was feeling, and she was honest with him when usually she jollies herself along for him.
‘Low, Dylan. I’m feeling low,’ she said.
Laurie named him too, after Dylan Thomas. Loved his poetry, did her Laurie. Except their Dylan, while economical with words the way a poet might be, has never been as eloquent.
