Page 19 of One Snowy Day
Georgie was happy to reassure her. ‘No. I mean, today must be bittersweet because it’s her last day, but she’s been saying for years how much she’s looking forward to going and starting a new life in the sun with Dad. It’ll be good for them to put themselves first for a change – they deserve this.’
If Georgie didn’t already have a whole list of reasons backing up her refusal to make any move that could mess with her mother’s plans, saying that aloud cemented her absolute conviction that turningThe Clansmanjob down was the right thing to do. No more procrastination. As soon as they were gone, she was making the call. A sudden wave of relief made her shoulders drop from the tense position they’d held all day and she felt lighter. More positive. She’d probably hate working on a TV set anyway. Allthose prima donnas and the unlimited food carts – she’d come home irritated and three stone heavier.
She escorted Aunt Cathy over to the free chair next to her mum and Aunt Val, who were still deep in conversation, having sent Grant out to the bakers along the street for some festive mince pies. ‘My London clients do the same thing,’ he’d retorted, amused sarcasm dripping from his words. ‘Can’t get through a set of highlights without being sent for a steak bake and a vanilla slice.’
As Georgie approached, she wondered, though, if maybe Aunt Cathy had a point. Her mum’s face was etched with sadness and her eyes were bloodshot, as if she’d been crying. Maybe leaving was hitting her harder than Georgie had realised. But, of course, Mum wouldn’t admit that, because she never liked to burden anyone with her woes. She was definitely of that ‘keep quiet and get on with it’ generation.
Georgie decided she wasn’t going to let the last hours they had together be steeped in sadness, so she had no hesitation in interrupting them. ‘Right, ladies, let’s get this going-away pamper session into full swing.’ She nipped down to reception for the champagne bottles, then came back and topped up everyone’s glass, before pulling out her phone and changing the music. ‘What we need is a bit of this…’ she said, grinning, as the sound of Abba’s ‘Dancing Queen’ blared from the shop’s speakers. ‘And a bit of this…’ She continued, taking Aunt Cathy’s hand and spinning her around for a dance.
Of course, Val and her mum did the only thing they could do under the circumstances – they got their bums out of the chairs and joined them, singing at the top of their lungs. And yes, there were tears in Mum’s eyes again, but this time Georgie knew that they were happy ones. Mum had always said that there was nothing in life that couldn’t be fixed by a dance and a bit of Abba.
By the time Grant returned, thirty minutes after he’d left and clutching a large box from the baker’s and two more bottles of bubbly from the off-licence, they’d switched from ‘Dancing Queen’ to the Bee Gees and Barry, Maurice and Robin were doing the Saturday Night Fever strut up the middle of the salon, while Georgie howled with laughter as she danced on the sidelines. This was more like it. This was the day her mum deserved.
Grant hit the ground running, topping the glasses up yet again, before the three of them collapsed back into their chairs, party mood activated, ready for their pampering. Grant got to work sharpening up Val’s razor-edged blonde bob, while Georgie gave her mum’s copper curls a quick trim, before slathering on the coconut mousse that Jessie adored.
Cathy was given the salon’s iPad, and put in charge of the tunes, effortlessly switching from the Bee Gees, to the Rolling Stones, to Whitney Houston, to Robbie Williams, to Madonna. There was a slight glitch when she pressed the wrong button and they got a quick blast of Metallica, but she soon realised they didn’t know the words, and saved the day with Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Dreams’. The five of them were belting it out, so carried away in the moment that Georgie barely heard the ding at the door announcing a new arrival. She glanced over to the entrance and saw a small blonde woman, pretty, maybe in her late twenties or early thirties – it was impossible to be accurate with all the Botox, filler and procedures available these days. Only last week she’d had a new client she would have placed at thirty-five and it turned out she was a fifty-eight-year-old grandmother who’d gone to Turkey for a facelift.
Georgie switched off the hairdryer and left the bedlam behind her as she went to the front of the shop, greeting the new arrival with an apologetic smile.
‘I’m really sorry, but we’re not open today – I can make you an appointment for later in the week?’
The woman shook her head. ‘No… no thanks.’ Georgie noticed that the stranger was eyeing her up and down, frowning. Some people could be so judgemental. They pop in here for some hair product or a gift card and have an attitude the minute they step over the threshold.
‘Well, sorry – like I said, we’re not open today.’
She expected that to be the end of it, but the woman didn’t turn and leave. Instead, she stood her ground as she said, ‘Are you Georgie?’
Ah, maybe she’d been recommended by a client and just wanted some advice. Or a job. Yes, that was it! That would explain why she seemed so edgy.
Georgie immediately felt a pang of empathy and smiled to put her at ease. ‘I am. Can I help you?’
‘Yes. Or at least I think so. I want to know if you’re sleeping with my boyfriend.’
11
ALYSSA
The tyres of Alyssa’s Citroen Berlingo van crunched in the snow as they turned into the street on the south side of the city that housed the Moira Chiles Academy of Drama and Music. She’d bought the second-hand van when she first opened the café, and it may be ten years old and have questionable suspension, but it had allowed her to offer home catering and takeaways in her local areas. She was pretty sure there was still a box of cupcakes in the back, after Ginny messed up a phone order yesterday and took a dozen cupcakes to a customer who’d requested twelve vegan vol-au-vents.
Although, if things went the way Ginny hoped at her interview today, Alyssa was about to lose her most unreliable, yet essential, extra pair of hands.
Ginny had been brushing up on her factual information for the last fifteen minutes of the journey, recounting the facts out loud so that they’d have more chance of sticking. ‘The Academy was founded by the actor, Ollie Chiles – by the way, I totally would – and named after his mother, who was a singer…’ Ginny had broken off. ‘That’s the woman that Mum was talking about this morning, isn’t it? Moved to the village last year and sometimes comes into the café? A large cappuccino and a ginger slice?’
‘What?’ Alyssa had answered, distracted, then she’d run the conversation back in her head until she’d reached the correct answer. ‘Yes. She’s really nice. Gets her hair done over at Copper Curls.’
Ginny had nodded. ‘I hope she’s here today and part of the interview panel. Would you be upset if I offered her free ginger slices for life if she gives me the job? I’m not above a bit of bribery.’
‘No, but you’ll have to be quick, because apparently I won’t have a café in sixty days.’
‘Oh shit, sorry. Here’s me rambling on about an interview and you’re on the verge of losing everything…’
‘Thank you for the recap,’ Alyssa had said, with a sad smile, before giving herself a shake and focussing on her enthusiasm for Ginny’s opportunity the rest of the way. Now, as she brought the van to a stop outside an old church building, a huge sign on the front announced they were in the right place. When she pulled on the handbrake, she turned to her sister, pushing her own woes to the side yet again. ‘I’ll wait here.’ She leaned over and gave Ginny a hug. ‘You’re going to get this job because you’re brilliant and talented and they’d be lucky to have you.’
‘Brilliant and talented and they’d be lucky to have me,’ Ginny repeated, as if memorising that too. ‘Honest to God, I’d rather reciteThe Gruffaloin front of a hundred five year-old schoolkids than be interviewed by a panel. And five-year-old schoolkids are brutal.’
A primary-school reading tour was just one of the many gigs Ginny had taken on in the last few years as she’d attempted tomake a living while at college, and then as a jobbing actress. Alyssa knew she’d be brilliant in the role that she was about to interview for, though. Teaching drama and music to teenagers was right in Ginny’s wheelhouse – she was incredibly talented but super-cool and relatable too. Alyssa just hoped the panel saw that in her today, and that she got the job, because worrying about Ginny was just another big fat cherry of problems on the icing of the shitshow of a cake that had been delivered today.
As Ginny climbed out of the van, Alyssa shouted another, ‘Good luck,’ and gave a cheery thumbs up, before dropping the smile immediately when Ginny disappeared through the doors.
