Page 59 of Lessons in Love at the Seaside Salon

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

‘So what is it today, Babs?’ Trudy stubs out her cigarette and waves away the smoke in front of her face.

That was her first cigarette of the day, which was late for her.

She’s been smoking less, though. Couldn’t say why other than that she’s not as interested in it. Or doesn’t need it the way she used to.

‘Didn’t I tell you? Nephew’s wedding this afternoon. So I need a nice wash and set.’ Babs puts her handbag on the bench.

‘That’s all, pet? Nothing fancy?’

‘No, I wouldn’t want to take attention away from the bride.’

She says it so seriously Trudy can’t help but chuckle. Then again, she admires Babs’s self-belief. Every woman should have that much of it.

‘All right. Wash and set it is. Phoebe, when you’re free can you take Babs over for a wash?’

Phoebe is her new apprentice. They needed a set of hands and Josie’s going to be off for a while.

She can have a job when she’s ready, and that’s because Sam has told Trudy he’s moving on at some point – he wants to go back to Europe.

And while Josie may still technically be a student Trudy’s happy to pay her properly and let her take Sam’s spot.

The girl has talent, and she’s a hard worker.

It won’t be too long before she’s on her feet again, literally.

Phoebe nods. She’s washing someone else at the moment so Trudy and Babs have a few minutes.

‘Where’s the wedding?’ Trudy asks.

‘Kariong. Function centre or some such.’ Babs is eyeing her in the mirror. ‘I’ve heard a rumour about you, Gertrude.’

‘Gertrude! No one calls me that.’

‘Your mother did once.’

‘Yes, she did.’ Trudy says it with an edge, because she’s not sure where Babs is going with this and doesn’t know whether to worry about something she’s going to say in front of the other clients.

‘You’ – Babs waves a finger at her – ‘have a gentleman caller.’

Trudy relaxes. Is that all?

‘Yes, I do,’ she says.

‘And you didn’t tell me!’ The note of outrage in Babs’s voice could be real or feigned – it’s hard to tell.

‘None of your business, Barbara .’

‘Don’t call me that. It doesn’t suit me.’

‘Gertrude doesn’t suit me either.’ She puts her hands on her hips and raises her eyebrows.

‘Fair. It’s a harsh-sounding name.’

‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’

‘Do.’ Babs purses her lips and keeps eyeing Trudy. ‘What’s his name, this gentleman?’

‘Sol.’

‘Where do you know him from?’

‘He played bowls with Laurie.’

‘Bowls … bowls …’ She presses her lips together harder than before. ‘Not Sol Jacobs?’

Trudy feels like a child caught with her hand in the lolly jar. ‘Yes,’ she half whispers, taken aback. ‘Obviously you know him?’

‘I used to play bowls at that club.’

It’s coming back to Trudy now: Babs started coming to the salon because she played bowls with Laurie. Which means, of course, that she’d have played it with Sol.

‘Lovely fellow. So sad when his wife died. We all wanted him to find someone.’ She brightens. ‘And he has! Wonderful! Do you play bowls?’

‘No.’

‘Good. Don’t start.’ She makes a face. ‘So political , those clubs. Waste of time.’

Phoebe appears, nervously tucking her hair behind her ears. ‘I’m ready for you, Mrs … um …’

‘Babs.’ She pushes herself up from the chair. ‘Call me Babs, love.’

Babs toddles off to the basins as Trudy thinks about the fact that she knows Sol. About the roads that lead us to people and how sometimes there are more of them than we think.

Evie is on the other side of the salon chatting away to Anna, who’s in for her own wash and blow-dry. From what Trudy has gleaned, Oliver is turning out to be quite the nice companion for Evie.

There’s another road that’s led them all somewhere: Evie knew Oliver, Oliver suggested Sam for the job, and Sam has been a gem to have in the salon. And in his own way Sam led Evie back to Oliver. Perhaps he was always her destination.

She doesn’t think Sol was always hers – but he didn’t have to be. Because the road can change course and we won’t even notice. And sometimes we’ll decide to take a different road.

Trudy’s been thinking about selling the business. Not now. Not even soon. But it’s in her mind. She even talked to Sol about it, because he’s been retired for a while, ‘and I recommend it’, he told her.

‘We could travel,’ he said, and she liked that idea, not having set foot much beyond Terrigal in her entire life.

Not that she needs more than Terrigal. Everything she wants and loves is here. Apart from Dylan, of course.

There’s more of the world to see, though.

More of life to live. Her clients have lives that spin in and out of this place, and for decades she has listened to their stories and thought those experiences will never be for her because she has to stay and work.

Stay and keep up with her responsibilities.

She said something like that to Sol the other day. He said, ‘But your primary responsibility is to yourself. If you are happy, the people around you are happy.’

‘How does that work?’ she asked, genuinely curious.

‘That’s the power of a woman,’ he said. ‘Whatever she feels, others feel. Those who love her feel it most. Happy, sad, whatever it is, that’s amplified.’ He smiled. ‘I can’t explain it, I just know it’s true.’

‘I’ll take it into consideration,’ she said, and he laughed and offered her his arm, which she took. Then they walked into the club and had dinner with Peter and Lois.

Since then she’s been paying closer attention to the ladies around her, and she reckons he’s right. When Evie’s happy, she and Sam and Phoebe are happy, because Evie’s mood radiates from her. It happens with the clients too. Whatever mood they bring with them into the salon affects everyone.

This could all be a way of Trudy trying to remind herself of the importance of her job, of course: if a woman looks good, she feels good, and that makes other people feel good.

She thinks she’s right about it, though – otherwise why would so many people come to her Seaside Salon over and over again? For years.

Babs is back, freshly washed.

‘Time for the blow-dry,’ she says, sitting down with a thump and smiling into the mirror. ‘Make me beautiful, Trudy.’

‘You already are, pet,’ Trudy says as she picks up the implement. ‘You already are.’

As she nears the end of the blow-dry she looks up to see the shape of someone she knows profoundly well outside the salon window, his back to her.

Not that she’ll hurry Babs through – no matter what goes on in her life, she won’t compromise the clients.

So it’s not until Babs has paid and left that Trudy walks out the door to greet her son.

‘Hello,’ she says, looking up.

‘Mum,’ he says. He doesn’t look either happy or sad to see her, but he gives her a hug and that’s something.

‘You’re a long way from home.’

‘Yeah.’ He presses the ball of one foot on the pavement, as if he’s trying to squash something. ‘Annemarie told me I was being an idiot and it had gone on too long.’

‘Oh?’ Trudy isn’t sure exactly what he – or Annemarie – is referring to.

Their eyes meet.

‘She said you need to have your own life.’

‘That’s true.’

‘That your … your boyfriend is none of my business.’

Trudy knows how big this admission is and decides to let him off easily. If you can’t do that for your only child, who else can you?

‘I prefer the term “man-friend”,’ she says.

Dylan makes a face. ‘God – really?’

She laughs. ‘Not really. But he’s a fair bit older than a boy.’

Dylan nods. ‘So am I.’

‘This is true. But you’ll always be my little boy. Which means I’ll always miss you when I don’t see you.’

‘Annemarie said something like that too. Told me to imagine what it would be like if one of ours didn’t see us for months on end.’ He looks sad.

‘And?’ Trudy prompts.

‘I’d hate it.’

Up high seagulls pass them, riding the late-afternoon wind toward the beach. There will be people there, Trudy knows, with fish and chips, and those gulls will be in search of bounty.

‘How about you and Sol come to lunch sometime?’ Dylan says.

Trudy turns her body toward him, which means she is looking back into the salon, where she can see Evie and Sam trying not to stare in her direction.

‘That sounds good,’ she says. ‘Will you cook?’

‘Of course not. You’d rather starve.’

It’s an old joke between them: when he was a teenager Dylan decided he was going to try making dinner for his parents and tried to serve them half-cooked chicken. The next time he offered to make a meal, Laurie said he’d rather starve.

‘I might,’ Trudy says. ‘But I wouldn’t care. As long as you’re there.’

‘I always will be, Mum.’

She feels like pinching his cheek, just as she used to when he was half her size. There is, however, something she can offer instead.

‘Come inside,’ she says. ‘You need a trim.’

Dylan laughs and runs a hand through his hair. ‘I guess it’s a little shaggy.’

‘It’s a lot shaggy. In you go.’

But he stands back for her to enter first, just as his father taught him to do.

After he’s sitting in a chair, with a cape around him, Trudy picks up her scissors and as she snips they make plans for lunch, and for Christmas, and for Dylan to bring his family to Terrigal over the next summer holidays.