Page 12 of Lessons in Love at the Seaside Salon

CHAPTER ELEVEN

It’s been a while since Trudy’s had a bloke working in the salon.

There was Carlos, that nice Spanish lad – that was quite a few years ago.

He made it clear from the start he wasn’t likely to stay more than a year – ‘I wish to see the world, senora ,’ he told her, and at the time Trudy was mildly offended because she thought she still qualified to be a senorita .

She used to look young for her age; smoking took care of that but it’s too late to change now and she has no regrets.

After Carlos there was Greg, who had a boyfriend and never mentioned the man’s name in front of the clients because he believed that if the boyfriend’s existence was known it could cause issues.

Trudy didn’t tell him her clientele had done and seen a lot – including a war or two – and were the least likely people to judge anyone, but she didn’t know for sure, and Greg’s experience of life was quite different to hers so it wasn’t for her to tell him what to do.

Greg lasted a couple of years then moved to Brisbane.

She raised her eyebrows at that news – if he thought the Central Coast was conservative, the Joh Bjelke-Petersen regime north of the border would be an adjustment – but from the occasional letter he wrote he seemed to be content.

Since Greg she’s had only women working for her – not by design, it’s just how it turned out. So when Sam walked through the door this morning it was almost as if there was a shift in the ballast of the place. In a good way.

‘Hello!’ he said in a deep voice, smiling broadly.

Nice teeth, Trudy had noticed when he first came in the other day to say hello. Not that she usually assesses people as though they were horses, but when someone smiles it’s hard to avoid noticing their teeth.

Evie hadn’t said anything about Sam being so handsome when she asked Trudy if she’d consider giving him a trial.

Then again, Trudy is a little vague on whether or not Evie had even met him.

She knows his brother, and was sparing with the details so maybe they used to go out – although she thinks Evie would have told her that.

They’ve chatted about almost everything over the six years Evie’s been working for her.

She started when Billy was one year old and she needed a job to support him; Trudy didn’t ask questions about why Billy’s father wasn’t supporting him and Evie seemed grateful.

Before she had Billy she’d been working at a salon at Long Jetty and Trudy never found out why she didn’t go back there – because it didn’t matter.

Trudy could tell from the start that Evie had a knack for hair.

So when she told Trudy about Sam, Trudy trusted her.

When Sam arrived he walked straight over to Trudy, taking her hand with both of his, as if they were long-lost friends.

Usually that sort of greeting annoys her, because it always seems a little earnest – or fake-friendly – but he was still smiling and he looked deeply into her eyes and, well, the man was charming. Is charming.

He’s now attending to his first client. Merle has been coming to the salon for decades and when Trudy asked if she’d mind being the try-out for the new bloke, she didn’t hesitate.

‘It’s been a while since I’ve had a man run his fingers through my hair, Trudy,’ she said. ‘Count me in.’

Merle is one of her more game clients. Most of the ladies like their hair done the way they’ve always had it done.

For those clients Trudy may suggest a change every few years, most often to a more practical hairdo for those who don’t want to spend much time on themselves.

Otherwise it’s a wash and dry and a set, with the occasional trim.

The bread and butter of her business, so she’s not complaining.

It’s just nice to have a regular like Merle who came in one day having seen 101 Dalmatians and asked for ‘a Cruella De Vil’ then, a few months later, ‘a Liz Taylor’.

Elizabeth Taylor has been the inspiration for a few of Merle’s hairstyles over the years.

They look nothing alike, but Trudy’s always created a reasonable facsimile of La Liz’s hair.

Today Sam’s instructions are to give Merle a haircut – not just a trim. Merle’s in her seventies now but her hair is strong so there’s plenty to work with, and she’s been growing it out for a while.

‘I’m in my Martha Graham era,’ she told Trudy a few months ago, although Trudy didn’t know who that was so she said nothing in reply.

‘Right, darl,’ Sam says as he puts his fingertips to Merle’s cheeks, a comb in one hand, tilting his head from side to side. ‘Do you have ideas or would you like me to make a decision for you?’

Merle catches Trudy’s eye in the mirror and winks. ‘Surprise me,’ she says to Sam, who looks gleeful.

‘Such a great face,’ he murmurs. ‘Did you model?’

Merle snorts. ‘Only for my husband when I bought a new brassiere.’

From the other side of the salon Evie makes a strangled noise, although her client is absorbed in a book and appears not to have heard anything. Evie looks a little shocked, although Trudy would have thought she’d be used to Merle by now. The woman can be outrageous.

Sam, however, is not at all shocked. In fact, he’s laughing, his head thrown back.

‘Has anyone ever told you that you look like Montgomery Clift?’ Merle asks.

‘Yes,’ Sam says, running his fingers over her scalp as Merle closes her eyes.

‘That’s good, love,’ she says. ‘Keep doing that.’

Trudy’s next client arrives and she looks around for Josie, who’s been refolding the towels. The creases weren’t sharp enough for her liking, apparently.

‘Josie, pet, can you do a wash?’ she calls out.

As her client sits by the basin, Trudy keeps one eye on Sam.

Not that he needs monitoring – she can see from the way he’s not only talking to Merle but cutting her hair that he has experience, and that he’s good with clients – but she needs to check out what he’s doing.

This is her business, and it’s already been dented by one former hairdresser.

There may be no way to guard against a repeat of Jane’s behaviour, but it makes Trudy feel better to think she’s not rushing to give Sam a gold star.

He’ll have to earn it. Except she doesn’t actually want him to feel watched, so she goes to the appointment book and pretends to be busy.

While she’s there, positioned in the middle of the salon, between Sam and Evie, she notices Evie looking into the mirror, across at Sam.

They’ve had minimal interaction today, apart from Sam waving his greeting just after he met Merle, which makes Trudy now believe firmly that they’ve never spent much time together.

And also makes her believe that Evie must really like this Oliver fellow, since she’s so willing to help his brother.

Except she can’t like him like that because she’s looking at Sam as if he’s a member of one of those pop bands the girls are into – Wham!

or some such. She likes that George Michael’s hair – very nicely layered, and the colour is good too.

Apart from that, though, the man does nothing for her.

Then Evie’s eyes meet hers in the mirror and she glances away. Trudy could swear her cheeks are pink. Interesting.

After Merle is done – her hair beautifully shaped, and a big smile on her face – Sam does another cut then a perm. Soon it’s time for lunch, and Trudy invites him into the back room.

‘Busy first day already,’ she says, lighting her lunchtime cigarette and offering one to Sam, who smiles his thanks and takes it. She lights it for him.

Sam drags on the ciggie then narrows his eyes. ‘I’m fairly sure you’ve been kind and given me some of your regulars. I hope they didn’t mind?’

‘Mind?’ She chortles. ‘Did you hear Merle saying you look like Monty Clift?’

He grins. ‘She’s very kind.’

‘And correct.’

Sam laughs – that same full-throated laugh as before. It’s always lovely being around people who seem to laugh with their whole beings. Their laughter uplifts everyone around them. Since Trudy could do with some uplift, it’s another tick for Sam.

‘Your clients seem lovely,’ he says, flicking ash into her ashtray.

‘I’m hiding the mean ones from you for now.’

Another laugh. ‘I don’t believe you for a second, darl. You’re too lovely to have mean clients.’

‘Oh, you’ll get ahead,’ Trudy says wryly, but she’s secretly pleased.

‘That’s what my mother’s always said.’ He shrugs. ‘She’s still waiting.’

He frowns but it’s gone quickly. Perhaps the smoke is bothering him. Perhaps his mother bothers him. Trudy isn’t going to ask.

‘Did you bring some tucker?’ Trudy says, stubbing out her cigarette.

Sam nods. ‘A sandwich.’

‘I’ll leave you to it.’

‘You don’t have to go.’ Sam looks genuinely disappointed, bless him. ‘Unless you do. Sorry – I know this is your salon and you may have things to do.’

‘I’ll have my lunch in a little while,’ she says. ‘You need a bit of time to yourself on your first day, I reckon. To figure out if you’ll want to come back.’

‘Oh, I will,’ he says, holding her gaze.

Suddenly she feels as if she’s known him forever.

Perhaps he’s just adept at making people feel comfortable, but it’s irrelevant: the point is that she does feel comfortable, and glad that he’s here.

And not a moment too soon. She suspects he may be a secret weapon in keeping people from going to Jane’s salon, or enticing them to return.

She’s definitely not above thinking that a handsome young man is motivation for ladies of all ages to come to a salon …

‘Wonderful,’ she says. ‘Because I believe you’ll be a hit.’

She heads back to the salon floor and once again catches the eye of Evie, who is frowning.

‘All good, pet,’ she says, thinking that perhaps Evie needs to be reassured about their new staff member, then she turns to greet the next client coming through the door.