Page 18 of Lessons in Love at the Seaside Salon

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

On Monday Brett brought his nan to the salon, just like he told Josie he did, only this time he came inside. He caught her eye immediately and waved hello. His smile was so big she thought his face would crack. And she loved it.

‘Hi,’ she said, so softly she didn’t think he heard but she didn’t want to alert the others in the salon.

‘Hi,’ he mouthed back, still smiling.

‘Hello, young man,’ Trudy said. ‘We haven’t seen you before.’

‘I’m Brett,’ he said, extending his hand to shake Trudy’s.

That made Josie swoon inside. Good manners. She likes good manners – in anyone, not just in a man. But for some reason she liked them most on him.

‘My nan comes to you on Mondays,’ he continued, glancing in Josie’s direction.

‘So she does,’ Trudy said, taking the arm of the elderly woman next to Brett. ‘Hi, Jilly.’

Josie hoped Trudy didn’t see her looking at Brett but she suspected she did, because Trudy never misses anything.

Brett winked at Josie before he left, and that’s how she knew she’d see him again.

Now it’s Wednesday and she’s not surprised when she walks out of the Seaside Salon and turns right, heading in the direction of her car, and sees Brett.

He is not holding a surfboard, or his nana’s hand.

Instead he’s leaning against the wall, wearing a sloppy joe, King Gee long pants and work boots, his hair a little messy and a lot dreamy.

He’s grinning at her, his eyes crinkling a little at the edges.

Josie sighs involuntarily – the same noise she makes when she’s watching a movie that lets her believe in romance or listening to one of her favourite love songs.

‘Hi,’ she says back, extending it, breathing it. Hiiiiiiii . He probably thinks she sounds loopy. She feels loopy.

The other day, while she was eating lunch under a different pine tree, he found her again and stood there, dripping wet, asking her questions about her job and her car and what she likes to do on the weekends.

As if she was the most interesting girl in the world.

He made her feel that way. She was sure, at the time, that she made no sense whatsoever because she was distracted by how tight his wetsuit was and how clean his skin looked and how bright his teeth were against his tan.

Did he notice that she was babbling? If he did, he didn’t seem to care.

Afterward she realised how rude she’d been, not asking him anything about himself. She was brought up to have better manners than that. Well, now she has a chance to make up for it.

‘How’s your day been?’ she says, hoisting the strap of her handbag further up her shoulder.

‘Great!’ he says still grinning. ‘Now.’

Her eyes widen as she takes in what he’s said.

‘Where’s your car?’ he says.

‘Grosvenor Road,’ she says, nodding in the direction away from the water.

‘May I walk you?’ He dips his head a little, as if he’s shy, except she doesn’t believe he’s shy because he approached her , but she also loves thinking that he’s shy and he’s talking to her anyway because he likes her so much, and …

And what if it’s true? What if that is exactly what he’s doing?

Just like she’s doing? Because she’s shy.

Too shy to be talking to a boy this handsome.

The real Josie – the one who no boy looks at, the one who listens to her love songs and dreams about loving someone that much and being loved in return – could never be this bold.

So the version of Josie that’s here, talking to Brett, is the Seaside Salon Josie.

That’s the version of her who can chat to the customers and be outgoing and friendly all day.

The version Trudy, Evie and Sam see, and the one they seem to like.

She will keep that version going even outside of the salon if it means that Brett continues talking to her.

That he will walk her to her car. And who knows?

Maybe that version will become the real version if she keeps it up long enough.

Which wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

Every morning she puts on her Salon Josie persona in the car: shoulders back, head up, big smile. She’s only been there a few weeks and she doesn’t even need to do it consciously. As soon as she’s out of the car she feels her body already in the shape of Salon Josie.

Now, walking next to Brett, she’s not Salon Josie exactly but she’s not far off her.

Her shoulders are still back and she’s still smiling.

Because she wants to around him. That’s part of it too: if you want to do something, want to be good at something, you figure it out because it’s important to you.

Being around Brett in a way that doesn’t make him run for the hills is important to her.

‘Here,’ he says, holding out his hand, and for a second she wonders if she’s meant to take it. ‘Let me carry your bag.’

She blushes then hands it over, thinking for a second that he might be about to run off with it – that’s what her mother would say he’d do – then feeling bad for having the thought.

Besides, the bag is heavy: it holds her make-up bag, her wallet, two magazines, a can of hairspray, a brush, two apples she didn’t get to eat, deodorant and her keys.

‘Thank you,’ she says. ‘So did you surf today?’

‘Nuh,’ Brett says, glancing in the direction of the beach to his right. ‘There wasn’t much swell. Wouldn’t have been worth getting wet.’

They chat about his day, working on cars, until they reach her Mini.

‘Cool car,’ Brett says approvingly.

‘Really?’ She isn’t sure if he’s being serious – the car is poo-brown, after all.

‘The colour’s great. You don’t see it on the Minis that often. And these cars …’ He grins, his eyes sweeping over the car from front to back. ‘They just keep going. As long as you don’t thrash them too much.’

He looks at her questioningly and she giggles.

‘It’s only going from home to here and back again most of the time,’ she says.

‘Where’s home?’

He’s standing a respectful distance from her but she feels something between them – like a magnetic pull coming from the core of her, connecting to his.

It’s odd and comforting all at the same time, as if it’s inevitable they’ll wind up stuck together even if she doesn’t know how or why or when that might happen.

‘Gosford. You?’

‘Wamberal.’

It’s the next beach up, to the north.

‘Not too far, then.’ She smiles.

‘Not from here, no.’ He shrugs. ‘Too far from Sydney for my liking, though.’

‘Oh. You want to live in Sydney?’

Josie knows people who can’t wait to leave the Coast, to move to Sydney, where they imagine everything will be more exciting. The Coast has always been enough for her. Sydney is fast-paced and big and she doesn’t even have the guts to drive the freeway to get there – yet.

‘I’m not sure about living there,’ he says. ‘But I like to visit. And who knows? Maybe I’ll live there one day. If I can find a beach I like as much as this one.’

‘I, um …’ She hesitates to admit the limited scope of her experiences to him, because what if he thinks that makes her boring? ‘I don’t go that often.’

He stares into her eyes and she wants desperately to know what he’s thinking, because it feels like this is some kind of moment that determines whether he ever speaks to her again.

She’s the boring coastal girl; he’s the coastal boy looking for adventure and realising he’s not going to find it with her.

If this were a movie, at least, that’s what would happen here.

She’s not the main character, she’s the girl the lead actor meets on the way to his sweetheart.

Brett smiles, his eyes crinkling again. She really likes how they do that.

‘It’s not for everyone,’ he says. ‘So …’ He pauses, then grins. ‘I’d love to take you out to dinner one night. Could I have your number? I’ll ask the boys at work if they know any restaurants and call you once I’ve found a place.’

Another pause and she hopes he can’t hear how loudly her heart is beating, because to her it sounds as if it’s thumping all the way out of her ears.

DINNER? What?

After she recovers from the shock the first thing she thinks is that she can’t tell her parents about this, so she’s going to have to come up with a story to explain why she’s going out at night.

‘If you’d like to have dinner with me, that is.’ Brett’s words suggest uncertainty but his tone does not, and she really likes that too: he’s not nervous, and he’s not cocky either – he’s confident. Like she wants to be.

‘I, um …’ Breathe, Josie, breathe. ‘I would. Y-yes. Thank you.’

Now he grins so widely she can see his back teeth. ‘Great!’ Still with her handbag tucked under his arm, he pulls a notepad and pen from his back pocket with his other hand and holds them out to her. ‘For your number,’ he says.

Just before she takes them from him she remembers she lives at home and one of her parents will probably answer the phone and will want to know who the strange man is calling their daughter. No, that won’t do.

‘Um, I, uh …’ How to get around this? Maybe she shouldn’t even try. ‘I live with my parents and it’s their phone.’

He shrugs; he likes doing that. ‘That’s cool. So do I. But how about I see you at the surf club at lunchtime on Friday and we can talk then?’

Relief!

‘That would be great.’

They stay standing, staring at each other, smiling, and she has no idea what to do next.

‘I’d better give you your bag,’ he says, handing it over.

‘Oh – thanks.’ She pulls out her keys.

‘See you, Josie.’ Now Brett grins shyly as he waits for her to unlock the driver-side door.

‘See you on Friday,’ she says.

He will never know how much it means to her that he waits for her to start the engine and pull away from the kerb, giving her a wave as she does, but it’s enough to make her start crying as she drives off and turns left to head for the coast road that will carry her past Avoca and toward home, and she alternates between crying and laughing with surprise all the way to Gosford.