Page 67 of Lessons in Love at the Seaside Salon
Yes, Evie does, because Mrs Grey enjoys making them clear: women with short hair are asexual or, worse, they are ‘women in sensible shoes’, a group the church-going Mrs Grey absolutely does not approve of and could never countenance.
As Trudy appears by her side Evie feels she could weep with relief.
‘What do we have here?’ Trudy says, glancing from one woman to the other.
‘I made a mistake,’ Evie says. No point in avoiding it.
‘Ahugemistake,’ Mrs Grey says, the glare intact.
‘Now, Phyllis …’ Trudy tilts her head from side to side, weighing up options. ‘How would you feel about a change?’ she goes on. ‘Some layers? It’ll be a little more work but I reckon it would suit you – give the hubby something new to admire, eh?’
Mrs Grey’s eyes widen at that. ‘Oh. Do you think?’
‘It’s good to keep them on their toes. Let them know you’re not predictable, if you know what I mean.’ Trudy turns toward Evie. ‘Thoughts?’
‘Um … yes, I can see it.’ Evie scrutinises Mrs Grey’s face in a way she hasn’t before, because Mrs Grey has never wanted a change, she’s always just wanted a trim. But a new cut means looking at the shape of her face, the shapesinher face, and thinking about what can work best for her. Indeed, as Evie looks closely, she can see that Trudy is right: a layered cut will do wonders for Mrs Grey.
‘Yes,’ Evie affirms. ‘I think that would look fantastic.’
‘Are you happy for Evie to do it, Phyllis?’
Mrs Grey’s eyes meet Evie’s and she nods slowly.
‘Wunderbar,’ Trudy says. She has a collection of affirmations in foreign languages that she trots out from time to time; Evie has become used to it.
Then Trudy leans closer to Evie and says softly, ‘I know why you’re distracted, pet, but you can’t do this every time he’s around.’
Evie gasps and looks away, feeling exposed. And stupid for having let the distraction have an impact on a client.
She nods, picks up her scissors and gets to work, and when Sam walks past later and stops to look at what she’s done, she takes a step away from him.
‘Love it, darl,’ he says. ‘That cut issmashing, Mrs Grey. Hubby’s going to bemadfor it when he sees it.’
Then he grins that dynamite grin and carries on, while Evie’s heart keeps beating fast and her hand shakes a little as she writes Mrs Grey’s next appointment in the book.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
‘Ow!’
The client scowls in the mirror at Josie, who blinks then looks at her scissors as if they poked the woman in the neck all on their own. Then she sees her fingernails, bitten to the quick. Ever since she saw her mother’s friend Miriam at the cafe in Blue Bay she has been chewing them. It’s a habit that plagued her childhood and she grew out of it eventually, but now it’s back. Not that there’s anything left to chew. Apart from the inside of her cheek. She’s been doing that a bit too.
‘Sorry,’ she says, feeling tears rising in her eyes and her throat getting tight. How could she have almost-stabbed this nice lady, a first-time client whose name is now escaping her?
It’s because she hasn’t been sleeping well. She’s been convinced her parents are about to tell her that Miriam’s called or visited or written them a letter – something, anything – to relay what she saw. It’s on her mind all the time.
Yet Miriam hasn’t done any of that. She’s been silent. And that, Josie has realised, is worse. Now she actually wants the woman to say something to her parents so this tension can end. At least she’ll find out what the consequences are and can move on. Or be locked in her room for the rest of her life. Because that’s what her parents will probably do.
Why didn’t she think about that? Why didn’t she consider that being caught with Brett – with any boy – would mean that everything would change? They’ve always warned her againstgoing on dates. Even her father says men are dangerous and that if Josie goes anywhere with one she could get in trouble.
They never said what kind of trouble. They never said that the trouble might actually be them and how they’d react.
She’s been imagining different scenarios, different ways she could respond. Pretending that she and Brett are friends. That she knows him from tech or he’s a friend’s brother or a client.
Except she knows what Miriam saw. Knows she heard Brett call himself her boyfriend. That look in the older woman’s eyes.That look. Of knowing. Of … smugness, almost. As if she’d caught Josie out. Because she did. Because Josie let her.
Stupid. STUPID. She’s always been stupid.
‘Josie, pet.’
