Wildflower Bay (16 page)

‘That’s us full for tomorrow afternoon.’ Shannon closed the salon diary with a decisive slam.

‘You’re doing really well.’ Isla looked up. ‘Both of you. Bookings are up, takings are up – and that has to keep Jessie happy about the changes we’ve
made.’

‘Yay,’ beamed Jinny. ‘So you’ll stay out for a little drink after we’ve had dinner, then?’

‘One drink after dinner,’ conceded Isla, firmly. ‘We’ve got a really busy day tomorrow – like Shannon just said, we’re fully booked, so it’s going to be
all hands on deck, and I don’t want to be late. I’ve got some admin stuff to do too.’

‘One drink.’ Jinny flashed her a bright smile, scooping up her bag. ‘Come on, then. This’ll do until tomorrow.’

Isla shook her head, smiling despite herself. Jinny was irrepressible, a bundle of enthusiasm and energy who never stopped from the moment she arrived (always ten minutes late, always promising
that she’d be on time tomorrow) at the salon, until she hurtled out the door last thing, arms full of hair magazines that she studied every night in bed, determined to know everything there
was to know about the latest fashions.

‘Shannon, you coming?’

‘Two secs.’ There was a gurgle of water. Shannon – who had at first seemed so resistant to Isla’s insistence on the daily routines that kept a salon running efficiently
– was now, boosted by the success she was seeing, taking on board everything Isla could teach her. Isla had watched as she’d begun to take a pride in her work that had previously been
missing. Every night now, without fail, Shannon took it upon herself to clean and sterilize all the equipment, and always left the back room spotlessly tidy.

Isla gave her a smile as she appeared, wiping her hands dry on a paper towel.

‘You’re doing a great job.’

Shannon flushed slightly at the compliment. ‘Reckon?’

‘Yes.’ Isla believed in working her staff hard, but she always praised them when recognition was due. Shannon was trying her best, taking time when it was her lunch break to watch
Isla at work, asking questions about technique, making a real effort.

They’d started the evening with dinner in the little restaurant on the main street that looked out over the harbour, but it had been pretty clear to Isla that the girls
were dying to get out and go for a proper drink. She’d allowed herself to be towed along to the grotty-looking hotel on the corner where Shannon’s current love interest, Rab, (who, she
informed them, as per her dating manual, she had no intention of acknowledging) was working.

The hotel bar was empty, save for a couple of American tourists who were sitting poring over a map of the island. They looked up, nodding a greeting.

Jinny and Shannon slipped into the corner, settling themselves down on the faded red velour cushions of the bar sofa, pulling out their phones, catching up with what had been happening online in
the half hour since they’d last checked.

‘Two ciders and a gin and tonic, please.’

‘You girls starting early the night?’ The old man behind the bar gave her a knowing smile, cracking open the bottles of cider and clattering ice into glasses.

‘Just an after-work drink to say well done,’ said Isla, crisply.

‘Aye, they all say that, hen.’ He seemed pretty sure of himself. Isla gave him a polite smile, saying nothing.

‘Here’s to us.’ Jinny clinked her glass with Shannon.

‘Wha’s like us?’ Shannon replied, taking a huge mouthful of cider, following it with the kind of belch that would make a teenage boy proud.

‘
Gie few, and they’re a’ deid
.’ They raised their voices in unison. Isla sipped her gin and tonic and smiled at them politely. Girls in gaggles like this always
made her uncomfortable, reminding her of school and being left out and laughed at for having the wrong clothes, the wrong hair, the wrong everything.

‘All right, Isla?’ Jinny looked at her, her heart-shaped face quizzical.

‘Yes, fine,’ Isla tried to sound unconcerned. ‘You girls have done really well this week. I think Jessie will be really impressed when she gets back and sees how you’re
getting on.’

‘Y’reckon?’ Shannon looked dubious. She poured the remainder of her cider into the glass, tracing patterns in the condensation that ran down the sides. It was a moment before
she spoke, choosing her words carefully. ‘You’ve got far more of a clue about that place than Jessie has.’

Jinny nodded, as open as her friend was guarded. ‘Yeah, we’ve had literally twice as many customers this week as we would’ve had normally. And that’s before everyone gets
paid at the end of next week. You’re already booked up for the whole of Friday afternoon, Isla.’

‘Yes, but you’re getting loads better now, Jinny, and when Jessie comes back there’ll be another stylist so you won’t even notice I’m gone.’

‘Aye, and I’ll be demoted to sweeping the floor, it’ll be back to blue rinses and shampoo and sets, and Shannon won’t get a chance to do any of the cool stuff
you’ve been showing her.’

Shannon looked at Isla, eyebrows raised in confirmation. ‘You know she’s right.’

‘I’ll have a word with Jessie. I’m sure when she hears how things are going, you’ll be fine.’

Shannon, who’d drained her cider in record time, looked doubtful. ‘We’ll see, I suppose. Another?’

Isla, who’d only taken a couple of mouthfuls of her drink, shook her head. Jinny nodded with feeling, despite having half a pint of cider still in her glass.

‘If Jessie doesn’t let Shannon do some proper cutting she’s going to end up going off the island to work,’ said Jinny, her usually cheerful face falling as she watched
Shannon’s departing back, a flash of a purple dragon tattoo just visible below the torn shoulder of her T-shirt.

‘I thought Shannon loved it here on the island, though?’

‘She does. But there’s nowhere else for her to go. The other salon that opened here closed again after about six months – everyone here is so stuck in their ways – and
it’s the only way she’s going to get a chance to do something different.’

‘What about you?’

‘Och, no.’ Jinny shook her head. ‘I can’t leave the island. My mum needs help with Mikey in the mornings, and all my brothers and sisters are here.’

‘How many do you actually have?’ Jinny had mentioned so many of them in passing that Isla hadn’t managed to work out exactly how many family members lived in the big, sprawling
house that looked out across the shore to the mainland.

‘Well, you know Mikey. He’s four – he’s autistic, so Mum needs extra help with him. Emmy and Leah are eight – they’re twins – and then there’s
Charlotte, she’s eleven, and Philly, Leo and Rowena, who are triplets, and they’re fifteen so they’re a nightmare as you can imagine.’ Jinny shook her head with the maturity
and wisdom befitting an old lady of nineteen.

Isla counted on her fingers. ‘Eight of you?’

‘Unless Mum is planning on any more – and you can never tell, it depends on what mood she catches Dad in, and if he’s around.’ Jinny pulled a face.

‘I can’t imagine what it must have been like, growing up with that many brothers and sisters.’ Isla thought back to her solitary childhood, weekends spent wandering around
Edinburgh by herself, nights spent making her dad soup and bread after his long night of working shifts in his taxi. She’d read so many stories of huge, rambling families who lived on top of
one another, but she’d never met anyone who lived in one. And irrepressible, happy Jinny, who was as easy-going as a labrador, was exactly as she imagined someone from a huge family would
be.

‘It’s lovely.’ Jinny smiled. ‘Until it’s hideous, when it’s absolutely the worst thing ever. I seriously thought I’d escape to the mainland as soon as I
could leave school, but when they made the basement into a little annex for me I decided I’d hang around for a bit. Then I ended up working weekends at Jessie’s place, and I just sort
of got stuck.’

‘You don’t want to be a hairdresser?’

‘Oh, no –’ Jinny looked worried that she’d offended Isla – ‘it’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just I like the other stuff more. The head
massages and the therapies and stuff. I keep hoping Jessie might let me do a bit of experimenting on the clients. You’re the first person who’s talked about aromatherapy and all that
stuff I like.’

Isla nodded. ‘I think maybe if we try not to talk about it as experimenting, we might get somewhere with Jessie. They’re clients, not lab rats.’

‘Good point,’ Jinny agreed. ‘And I’ve been going off the island at the weekends to do my Reiki training and I’m almost ready to do my level three and then
I’ll be a Reiki Master,’ she put her hands together in a prayer position and bowed, solemnly, before looking up with a giggle. ‘I’m going to do a reflexology course
next.’ The words tumbled out in excitement.

‘She talking about all that hippy-dippy stuff again?’ Shannon set three drinks down on the table.

‘Oh – I didn’t want anoth –’ Isla began, then held her tongue. It was kind of Shannon to buy her one. She didn’t have to drink it all, anyway.

‘It’s no’ hippy-dippy – you said yourself the Reiki helped your back.’ Jinny leaned forward to take her drink, elbowing Shannon in the ribs.

‘Aye, fair enough, but you’ll have a hard job persuading Jessie to let you loose on any of her clients with it. She’d have trouble getting her head round giving a head massage
during the shampooing.’

Isla felt herself exhaling in exasperation. There were more than enough people on the island to sustain the salon, and Jessie didn’t seem to realize that if she just let go of the reins a
little and let Shannon and Jinny do what they were capable of, she could relax and enjoy her time with Pamela and the grandchildren, leaving the place in their hands. Perhaps if . . .

‘I’ll sort Jessie out,’ Isla heard herself saying. ‘You two have done a wonderful job this last fortnight, and you don’t really need me here at all.’

‘You’re not about to leave us, are you?’ Jinny looked alarmed.

‘No, I’m not going anywhere just yet. I’ve got another five weeks and four days,’ said Isla, in a singsong tone, laughing.

Shannon raised an eyebrow. ‘No’ that you’re counting down the days or anything?’

It was Isla’s turn to blush. ‘Well, it’s nothing personal,’ she began, taking a drink to give herself a moment to think. The truth was that she was beginning to enjoy the
company of the two girls, their teasing camaraderie, and working together to make a success of Jessie’s salon in her absence. She loved watching the girls learning – seeing their
confidence grow after this short time was a real boost. She’d always enjoyed teaching the junior staff back in Edinburgh, but doing so had meant surrendering cutting time to one of the other
stylists, all of whom were snapping her heels, determined to prove their worth and impress Kat. Without that element of competition and stress, she was relaxing and appreciating her work even
more.

And she loved running along the seafront here in the evenings, with the salt-fresh air and the silence. Her runs were punctuated only by the sound of seabirds wheeling overhead – the
silence that had seemed so alarming for the first few nights had become something she looked forward to. She’d stopped running with her headphones in, realizing she didn’t need music to
drown out her thoughts.

‘It’s just, I’ve got a deadline. I need to get back and get my career sorted out.’

‘What’s happening?’

‘I’m thirty in September,’ Isla found herself admitting. ‘And I want to be at the top of my game by then.’

‘But you were head stylist at Kat Black!’ Jinny looked confused. ‘Top stylist in the poshest salon in Edinburgh. You don’t get much higher up than that, do you? Unless
you’re about to take on your own place – in which case, any chance of a job for us two?’

Shannon clinked her glass against Jinny’s with a snort of laughter. ‘Aye, I wouldn’t mind a job in one of those posh salons on George Street. And a big fancy flat in town, and
all.’

Isla winced.

‘I had both,’ she began. She’d finished one gin and tonic, and found herself sipping the second as she told the girls a truncated – and slightly downplayed –
version of her story.

‘. . . So I ended up getting the sack from Kat’s place, and ended up here.’

‘Good for us, mind,’ said Jinny. ‘No’ so good for you. But there’s no rush, is there? You’re not about to turn into a pumpkin if you haven’t got your
dream job by the time you’re thirty, are you?’

Isla shook her head. ‘It’s not that.’ How on earth could she explain what had driven her all this time? She took another drink. The recent rekindling of her friendship with
Helen seemed to have opened up some part of herself that had been closed off for so long. Back in Edinburgh, she’d never have opened up about how she felt. She’d lived with Hattie for
years without ever discussing anything of consequence.

‘Have you made a pact with the devil?’

Shannon looked at Isla over the top of her glass, her rainbow hair vibrant in the low evening sunlight that shone in through the window.

‘No.’ Isla took another sip. ‘It’s just –’ She reached into her handbag, pulling out her purse, flipping it open.

‘Awww, look at that. Is that you?’ Jinny leaned forward, looking at the photograph that sat behind a plastic casing.

‘Aye, it is. Look,’ Shannon traced the picture with a crimson nail. ‘I recognize the eyes. Is that your mum?’

Isla nodded.

‘She’s gorgeous. Looks like you.’ Jinny looked up at Isla, who was surprised by the unexpected compliment.

‘She died a few months after that photo was taken,’ Isla began, cautiously. ‘Cancer. She was thirty.’

‘Ahhh,’ said Jinny, with a single nod of understanding. Shannon looked at the two of them, nonplussed.

‘Mmm.’ Isla acknowledged Jinny with a small smile.

‘I’m really sorry about your mum, Isla. That’s horrible.’ Shannon shifted in her chair awkwardly.

Isla, who had spent years making people feel better about the fact she’d lost a parent, gave her the same reassuring line she always trotted out. ‘It’s fine – it was a
long time ago.’

It was a long time ago. That didn’t stop it hurting, though, unexpectedly. Not on the obvious days like Mother’s Day, when she’d expect it to sting; but when she worried about
her dad’s health, or when she heard a piece of music that sent her back in time to her childhood, or ate a cheese sandwich and drank a cup of tea and remembered the feeling of
Sunday-night-ness when they’d all sit together, plates balanced on knees, and have tea in front of the television. And of course when she’d been at school and the children had picked
her out, isolated her for being different, circled around her calling her names and being casually cruel, not for a second thinking how it might feel if they were the ones who didn’t have a
mum any more –
then
it had hurt. A hurt so raw in Isla’s chest that she’d closed herself off against it, and against everyone else.