Page 25 of Lessons in Love at the Seaside Salon
‘He is,’ Evie whispers back, taking Mary’s lengths into her hands. ‘Now, let’s have a think about this.’ She gazes down and sees, in a way she hasn’t before, that Mary has lovely chestnut tones in her hair that could work well with some contrast. ‘How about we do some streaks in your hair?’ she suggests.
Mary blinks rapidly. ‘Streaks? Oh no, that’s for …’
Evie isn’t sure what Mary was going to say but she can guess.
‘For models?’ Evie says.
Mary nods.
‘They’re for other people too,’ Evie says. ‘And I reckon they’ll look great on you. Do you trust me?’
Now Mary smiles along with her nods. Evie grins back. This is part of what she really likes about this job: making clients happy. Her mother would tell her that she needs to make herself happy too – mums are always right about that stuff – and she does, but she’ll settle for making these ladies happy in the meantime.
As she heads to the back room to mix the colour she catches Sam’s eye and he smiles at her as if she’s made the sun come out.Thatmakes her happy. He makes her happy. Which is a lot to put on a man she barely knows but she can’t help it. And she doesn’t want to.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It’s just before nine o’clock on Monday morning, so Trudy sips the last of her coffee while she thinks about not much at all. It’s a tactic she’s developed since Laurie died: not thinking. Not thinking means not remembering. Not remembering means that she can keep her grief at bay, even if it’s just for a little while, because the not-thinking tends to last as long as one cup of coffee or one cigarette, whichever she can get her hands on.
To be clear: she thinks aboutsomethingbut it’s nothing that can start her worrying or grieving, which are the two states she needs to avoid otherwise, as her GP said the other day, she’ll succumb to stress.
Succumb to stress. What a phrase. It makes her sound like a goldfish in a bowl that gets moved around all the time – you know how fish can die if they’re stressed? That’s her. A goldfish in a bowl that’s being moved, except she is also the bowl and the mover, which really does her head in sometimes.
It’s when she gets to that point, of everything being stirred up – of feeling she may succumb to stress – that she knows it’s time to make a coffee or light a ciggie. They’re not so much vices as crutches, and what are crutches for if not to support a person through hard times? Instead of a broken leg she has a broken heart, and that’s what she needs the crutches for.
There are other crutches: TV shows. Crosswords. Arnott’s Lemon Crisp biscuits. They’re moderate, as far as she’s concerned. She’s not putting away half a bottle of whiskey a night – her parents had a neighbour like that. ‘Slow suicide’ herfather called it, and Trudy agrees with that. She doesn’t want to kill herself slowly; she just needs some help in the here and now.
Her clients are a crutch of sorts, with their chatter and laughter and general lack of stress, and that’s who she’s awaiting. The first one is due in ten minutes and while she waits she thinks about her phone call with Dylan last night.
He rang her and after the hellos she was about to ask him how he was when he said, ‘So about a visit.’
She was disoriented by the directness and it took her a second to realise he was referring to their previous phone call.
‘Oh – yes?’
‘How about Sunday week?’
She stood there, silent, not because she needed to think about whether she would be free that day – the answer was yes, she would be, because her social activity is paltry – but because she couldn’t quite believe he was suggesting it. This is the son who needed five reminders to put away his clean laundry. And she always made him put it away – she wasn’t going to do that for him. No doubt Annemarie is happy she trained him in chores, although they’ve never discussed it. She and Annemarie aren’t close, even though Trudy had been determined not to be the clichéd mother-in-law who has a rocky relationship with her son’s wife. So it isn’t through lack of effort that she and Annemarie have never had a strong connection – it’s through Annemarie’s lack of interest in same.
‘That’d be lovely, darling,’ she said. ‘I’ll get the train.’
‘I can pick you up at the station.’
‘Good. Thanks, that’d be great.’
They worked out a time then the call ended and Trudy felt lighter – not that she realised she’d been carrying any sort of weight around about it. It’s funny what goes on in a person’s own body and mind without them being aware.
The door opens and Trudy smiles as Ingrid and her daughter, Anna, enter, followed by a flustered-looking Josie.
‘Sorry, sorry, sorry,’ Josie says breathily as she beetles for the back room.
‘You’re not late, pet!’ Trudy calls after her. The girl seems to live in fear of getting in trouble for something, no matter how often Trudy assures her that she’s doing a good job. She does things without needing to be asked; she has an eye for detail, not missing a hair on the salon floor or a strand of it out of place on a client’s head; plus she’s up on the latest hair trends, always looking in the magazines. She also asks for Trudy’s advice regularly, which no previous apprentice ever had.
‘No, we’re early,’ Ingrid says, smiling serenely. That’s how she usually smiles, and it’s in stark contrast to the demeanour of her daughter who is, Trudy thinks, tightly wound – ‘strung like a Stradivarius’, Laurie would have said.
Anna usually comes in with something to read, or she picks up a magazine from the pile, and sits in the spare chair in the corner, reading, doing the crossword, rarely smiling. Trudy would love to get her mitts on Anna’s hair because she thinks there’s potential, but she’s never chased a client and she’s not about to start. Perhaps, though, being in the salon will rub off on Anna one day.
‘How are you, Anna?’ Trudy says as the younger woman crosses the floor in front of her, not seeming to notice anyone else.
