Page 22 of Lessons in Love at the Seaside Salon

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

It shouldn’t be, Evie thinks, Josie the nineteen-year-old apprentice who is prattling on about her first date with some bloke, as they’re in the kitchen making a cup of tea while there’s a lull in their clientele.

White with two for Evie because she’s developed a sugar habit to go along with her Sam semi-obsession, while Josie has a dash of milk and no sugar and that’s probably why she’s a skinny minnie, and that’s another thing Evie plans to resent her for as soon as she’s over her resentment about the date.

No, it shouldn’t be Josie. It should be her, Evie, telling her co-worker about her date with their other co-worker Sam, except she hasn’t had one because he hasn’t asked her out and despite what Fran said, Evie is so on the verge of asking him that she just may –

‘We went to that cafe near the hotel,’ Josie says as she switches off the kettle just after the whistle has blown, then she turns, her eyes wide and bright and full of hope.

Evie remembers that sort of hope. You can only have it when you haven’t lived long enough to be disappointed by romantic relationships.

Or, in her case, unromantic relationships.

Some bloke fumbling with her buttons in the back seat of his car at the drive-in; another putting his hand between her legs as he stuck his tongue down her throat; another telling her, ‘My mother will love you’, over and over on a date then never calling her again.

That wasn’t a love life, it was a loveless life, and she’s sick of living it.

Sam looks at her as if she’s the best thing he sees all day and that has to mean something, doesn’t it?

It has to be the start of something, not the totality of it.

That’s what she tells herself at night, after Billy has gone to bed and she’s sitting on the couch reading her Jackie Collins novels and dreaming of a more intense life than the one she’s living now.

Sure, Jackie’s books aren’t about romance so much as sex and power, but Evie will take any distraction she can get from wondering why Sam hasn’t made a move on her.

The other day it was just the two of them left at closing and Evie thought it would be the perfect opportunity, so she swept the hair in his direction.

He grinned at her then nodded toward the floor. ‘Missed a bit, darl,’ he said.

That made her feel slightly sick and she wasn’t sure why.

It’s the sort of thing she’d like to run past a friend – maybe an older version of Josie – but there’s no one she’d trust with it.

She knows Fran will get cross with her, and a lot of her other friendships are fairly shallow these days, all revolving around school activities because everyone she knows outside of the Seaside Salon is associated with Billy’s school.

She includes Stevo in that. But maybe not Oliver.

He called the salon the other day to talk to Sam.

Evie answered the phone to him and they had a nice chat and she reflected, not for the first and probably not the last time, that it was really such a shame she didn’t like him that way , because he’s so easy to talk to.

But so is Sam. Maybe the brothers are just really good at chatting?

That’s a little confusing for her, because if you’re chatting to someone who’s really good at conversation, how do you know if you really get along with them or if you’re just the latest in a line of people they’ve been chatting to?

And does it really matter? Does she need to be the special one?

Actually, yes, she does. For once in her life she wants to be special to someone other than her son.

Obviously she is special to Billy because all mothers are to their children, if for no other reason than the children need them to survive.

She wants someone to choose her, that’s it.

Billy didn’t choose her. She chose him, in a sort-of way.

She chose to keep him, even when everyone she knew told her not to go through with the pregnancy because it was clear to everyone – including her – that she and Stevo weren’t going to last. It was clear to Stevo too, as it turned out, although he tried his best.

Trying one’s best. It implies a lot, doesn’t it?

But not that the person is enjoying the experience.

They’re trying . They’re trying their best .

They’re making a special effort not because they want to but because they have to.

Evie wants more than someone trying their best for her, no matter how well-intentioned that is.

She wants someone who believes she is the best. And she’s aware that she may want this because she doesn’t believe it about herself, but what are loved ones for if not to boost you?

It’s what she wants to do for someone else.

She wants to be the champion for the man who loves her, and she wants him to be that for her.

Sam is the person she wants to champion. If only she could get him to see it. If only Josie would stop talking about how gentlemanly Brett is.

‘I had fish. With a lemon sauce,’ Josie is saying as Evie tunes back in. ‘Have you ever had it? I’d never heard of it before!’

Fish in lemon sauce? Maybe she means lemon butter sauce. The restaurant sounds classy. Not that Evie would know because she hasn’t eaten there. It’s not the sort of place she’d go on her own.

‘No, I’ve never had it,’ Evie says. She’s heard of it because she reads the Women’s Weekly and it’s the sort of recipe they have from time to time. Dinner-party classics. Margaret Fulton’s best recipes. That sort of thing.

‘It was yummy!’

Josie is almost breathless and there’s something about her joy – the lack of smugness in it, the purity of it – that makes Evie think she’s been a bitch, even it’s just been internal. Josie deserves to be happy. They all do.

‘Did you …’ Evie swallows her bitchiness. ‘Did you have dessert?’

‘Chocolate mousse!’ More glee from Josie as she pulls the teabag out of her mug.

‘So have you, um … Have you heard from him again?’

‘Well, he can’t call me at home.’ Josie looks from left to right as if they’ll be overheard even though there’s no one else there. ‘My parents don’t know about him.’

‘Oh.’ Evie nods. She understands: once upon a time she was a teenage girl living at home.

‘So he waited for me before work this morning.’ She grins.

Evie arrived later than Josie so she missed this.

‘That’s nice,’ she says. ‘So you’ll go out with him again?’

‘I guess!’

‘Hello, lovely ladies,’ Sam says as he walks in.

It’s one of his late-starting days and Evie has been looking forward to seeing him for hours. Now she tries to control the hammer in her heart as she smiles at him.

‘Hi, Sam,’ she says, keeping her voice light.

Casual. In that weird way a person does when they have a crush and don’t want the object of the crush to know unless the crush is returned, in which case one of them is going to have to admit it or it’ll go nowhere.

She doesn’t want it to have to be her to admit it. There’s too much at stake.

‘How was your date, darl?’ he says to Josie.

‘So good!’ Josie almost squeals.

Evie picks up her mug, ready to depart. She doesn’t need to hear this again. Not with Sam there.

‘Tell me all about it,’ he says, pulling out a chair at their tiny lunch table. He catches Evie’s eye as she turns to go and winks at her.

It’s enough, that wink. Enough to power her through the day. He’s seen her. He’s seen her. She matters to him.

It’s pathetic to cling on to these sorts of signs, but she can’t help it.

She’ll spend the rest of the day looking for more signs, then go home and analyse them, and wish there was someone else she could tell.

But instead she’ll wait until Billy goes to bed, and read her Jackie Collins, and wonder when her life is going to change.