Page 35 of Lessons in Love at the Seaside Salon
Evie had felt cold at that instant, not from fear but recognition that the psychic was right. It had been the first and last time she went to a psychic, though, because she didn’t want any more hard truths.
Now she wishes the psychic were still there so she could ask her about Sam. The crystal shop closed a couple of years ago and Evie has no idea how to track down a psychic, so instead she just wonders about Sam all on her own. She’s not going to ask Trudy about it. But if she did she’d ask if Trudy thinks Sam likes her as much as she likes him. It’s all she wants to know.
This crush is ridiculous – no one her age, and especially nomothershould carry on like this – but she can’t seem to shake it off. That’s why she agreed to go out with Fran tonight when her old friend called to suggest it a few days ago.
‘That band’s on,’ she’d said.
‘Which band?’
‘You know.’
Evie didn’t know.
‘Youknow! The one we liked. When we were in Year 12.’
Evie tried to think.
‘Gawd, Evie, motherhood has sucked my brain out through my toes. I can’t rememberanything.’
‘Same, Fran. I can’t think of any band.’
‘The Leatherjackets!’ Fran said triumphantly. ‘Thank god. I still have some neurons left.’
The Leatherjackets were a band from Woy Woy who named themselves after a fish but enjoyed the double entendre, especially as they played rockabilly. Evie and Fran used to sneak into their gigs when they were still under age, but it was worth it: The Leatherjackets were great. Some people thought they’d be the next big thing, but they never went further than the Coast. Then they broke up. Not for good, obviously, since they’re playing at a pub in Gosford.
‘Nice top,’ Fran says as Evie hops in her car.
‘Thanks.’ Evie looks down at the shoulder-padded T-shirt with a sequinned heart on it that she bought at a boutique in Gosford after Fran issued her invitation. She has no idea what anyone wears to gigs these days but the top could be handy for any other social occasion that comes her way.Notthat she has expectations of being invited to anything by anyone. Not really.
They pass the drive trading stories about their children’s teachers and soon enough they’re inside the pub, where Evie realises that the sequinned heart immediately marks her out as a dag. Everyone else is wearing band T-shirts – except Fran, who’s wearing a black top with blue jeans.
Evie feels old and out of the loop. And here she is meant to be on top of trends and fashion because her clients expect her to know the latest. Okay, not all of them, because some of them just want a rinse and set. But a lot of them would think she knows the latest in everything.
‘Drink?’ Fran says, nodding toward the bar.
‘About ten,’ Evie says, making a face. ‘So I can forget that I stick out like a sore thumb.’
Fran looks at her quizzically.
‘The top,’ Evie explains.
‘Doll, precisely no one is going to care about that top. They’re all too busy wondering if they’re cool themselves. Besides, I like it. It’s pretty.’ She grins and goes to the bar.
Evie glances around and sees mostly men about her age, some trim, some not; some who look as if they’ve been dragged through a hedge backward and some with hair combed and T-shirt ironed. Is this her generation? When did they all start looking so much older? Would Sam think she’s ‘older’? She hasn’t previously considered his age, or hers. He’s Oliver’s younger brother, and Oliver is her age. Maybe she’s too old for Sam. Maybe he likes younger women.
She swallows, not wanting to contemplate all the variations of maybes she could consider over the course of the night.
‘Nice top,’ says a man’s voice beside her, and she turns to see Simon, a boy she knew in high school. Although he’s a man now, just as she’s a woman.
‘Simon!’ she cries, genuinely pleased to see him. He was always decent and easy to talk to. A league player in winter, cricket in summer, surfer all year round, like most of the boys. Nuggety with muscle due to all the sport, and it looks as though he still does it all.
‘G’day, Evie.’ He kisses her on the cheek. ‘How ya been?’
‘Oh, you know.’ She shrugs.
‘Nah, I don’t,’ he says cheekily. ‘So tell me.’
Where does she start? Given how small the Coast is, he might have heard she has a son. That she works at the Seaside Salon. People talk about other people. It’s how life runs. But maybe hehasn’t heard anything. So she’ll start with what’s most important to her.
