Chapter 9
JESSIE
With the girls gone, and not another customer in the café, Hugo had given in to pressure and joined them at the table for a cuppa.
‘Since it’s your special day, Jessie – how could I refuse? Although, you’re missing out with the whole birthday, retirement and going away party in one night – you should have spread it around and milked each one separately.’
‘I like your thought process there, Hugo. Might have been a good idea, since I don’t think anyone will be daft enough to come out in this weather tonight. It might just be the four of us and your Alyssa, all snowed in here, at this rate.’
In her peripheral vision, Jessie saw that evoke an expression of horror from Dorinda, who was sitting on a stool behind the counter, filing her nails.
Jessie reckoned Alyssa’s mother was probably pretending she was anywhere else but here.
Might be the first time she agreed with any sentiment from Dorinda Canavan.
The woman’s very presence was making Jessie grind her teeth, and what were the chances that today of all days she’d be subjected to the sight of her ?
‘How’s your Stan spending his last day here then, Jessie?’ Hugo asked, still warming his hands on his mug.
Glad of the distraction, Jessie gave the same answer she could have given on almost any day since he’d retired. ‘He’s up at the golf club, hitting a few balls.’
‘In this weather?’ Val asked, surprised.
Jessie nodded. ‘Aye. They’ve got one of those simulators.’
Cathy’s head swivelled like it was on stick. ‘I saw an advert for one of those on telly last night. A doctor was saying they could work wonders for your muscles. I think you can get them on prescription. Although, I don’t suppose they use them for the personal bits at the golf club.’
Jessie and Val’s eyes locked in a battle of restraint, before Val cracked and muttered, ‘I’ll take this one’, then turned to Cathy.
‘Cathy, love, what are you talking about?’
‘Those things you were on about,’ she replied, perplexed. ‘Stimulators.’
As the others let out a hoot of hilarity, Jessie shook her head woefully. ‘Dear Lord, Cathy, you need to get those hearing aids fixed.’
Jessie took one last sip of what was left of her tea and put the mug on top of a plate that was now empty, bar a few cake crumbs.
Much as she was enjoying passing the time of day with Hugo, being in the same space as Dorinda was grating on her and she didn’t trust herself to be civil to her for much longer.
‘Well, Hugo, it’s been a slice of heaven, but we’re off across the road to get beautified.’
Hugo let out a whistle as he shook his head, a twinkle in his eye as he got up from his chair. ‘Replying to that would be a political correctness nightmare these days, so I’ll just say you all already look lovely. ’
‘Smart man,’ Cathy said, kicking off a round of goodbye hugs.
Jessie was next. ‘You’ll be here for my party tonight, won’t you, Hugo? Only, there’s going to be a karaoke machine and I’ve heard you’ve got a fine pair of lungs on you.’ It was the ultimate Glasgow compliment to someone’s vocal talents.
‘Aye, I wouldn’t miss it, but trust me, no one needs to hear my singing. My dance moves, on the other hand…’ He let that one lie, as Val giggled.
‘Right then, Michael Flatley, we’ll prepare to be impressed.’
Hugo was still chuckling as he lifted their empty plates and made his way to the kitchen with them.
‘See you later, Dorinda,’ Jessie shouted over to the woman sitting behind the counter, taking no part in the conversation.
The words were friendly, but anyone who knew her well would detect the undertone of disdain, so, of course, Val immediately reacted with the levitation of her right eyebrow, a solemn act that was only used in times of deep suspicion or imminent fury.
‘Don’t you raise that eyebrow at me, Val Murray,’ Jessie murmured, out of earshot of everyone else.
‘You know fine well that Dorinda Canavan has never been my favourite person.’
Val remained silent, as Jessie knew she would.
There were two unassailable facts about Val, garnered from decades of being her pal.
The first was that there wasn’t a single event, scandal or piece of gossip in this village that didn’t make its way to her at some point.
The second was that when it came to her pals, she was the equivalent of a human vault – nothing came past those Avon Hot Pink lips.
‘Goodbye, ladies,’ Dorinda said, and Jessie immediately clocked the fake smile and the reciprocal passive-aggressive undercurrent. ‘Have a lovely time tonight, Jessie. Looking forward to it. ’
Of course, Jessie had invited her. The party tonight came with an open invitation to everyone in the village, and given that it was in Alyssa’s café, and Hugo and Ginny would both be there, Jessie couldn’t exactly tell Dorinda she wouldn’t be welcome, no matter how she felt about her.
She’d hoped that, given their unspoken dislike for each other, Dorinda would do the decent thing and not show up, but now she saw that wasn’t the case. That woman was bold as brass.
The three friends gathered their things and pulled on their coats, all of them having to give Cathy a wide berth, because she’d doubled in size now that she’d donned her enormous puffa coat.
‘Jesus, Cathy, if you fancy going out at Halloween as a Space Hopper, you’ve already got the outfit,’ Val quipped as they headed for the door.
Outside, Jessie’s gaze went from one end of Main Street to the other, taking in the glistening white clouds that had settled over the community centre, the church, the rows of shops both sides of the tree-lined streets.
Many of her friends had moved away over the years, especially in her younger days, when they were all going off to college, or getting married to people from other areas, but Jessie had never wanted to follow that path.
Not for a second had she regretted staying in Weirbridge, and it still hadn’t quite sunk in that after tomorrow morning, she’d no longer wake up in Weirbridge, in her own bed, in her own house, under her own duvet, and then wander up to the café for a cuppa.
In her imagination, before the Tenerife retirement had been floated, that’s how this next chapter of her life had always looked, and she hadn’t yet found the will to change that mental image, no matter how much Stan tried to help her visualise sun, sea and their new life abroad together.
When they’d first talked about it, he’d reminded her of all the good times they’d shared in the Tenerife house over the years.
All those wonderful holidays, when they’d go to a local café for breakfast with the kids, before going off to the beach or the pool for the day.
Or later, after Grant and Georgie had grown up and no longer travelled with them, they’d sit on the balcony and drink freshly squeezed orange juice, before he went off to play golf and she’d pass the time wandering around Los Cristianos, sometimes meeting up with friends who were out there at the same time.
Of course, then Kayleigh had arrived, and Georgie and Flynn would travel with them, glad of the free accommodation, the sunshine and the readily available babysitter, and Jessie would encourage them because she loved every second with her granddaughter.
But tomorrow would be different. It was just her and Stan. That was it. No one else. And much as she loved him, she couldn’t seem to convince herself that was enough.
The bell above the door dinged as they entered Copper Curls, and Jessie instinctively smiled, as she did every morning when she came in here.
The renovation last year had been worth every penny, and it helped her sleep at night to know that she was leaving Georgie with a business that they’d built together, and one that was thriving.
She’d only gone two steps in the door, when Grant popped his head up from under the reception desk and threw his arms out.
‘Mother!’
Jessie jumped, then immediately melted as he slammed into her for a hug. ‘You’re back! Och, son, I’ve missed you. Don’t try the hug with your Aunt Cathy though. Look at her – you’ll bounce off and do yourself an injury.’
Ah, her boy. And yes, she still thought of him as ‘her boy’, despite the fact that he was in his thirties.
She adored the bones of him, and was endlessly proud that, like Georgie, he’d grown up to be a decent human with a good heart.
Although, that was where the similarities between them ended because he and Georgie were like chalk and cheese.
Georgie was such a home bird, but this one?
He’d always known exactly what he wanted.
He’d worked in Copper Curls on Saturdays when he was still at school, but as soon as he’d left full-time education, he’d donned a leather jacket and a pair of trendy cargos and waltzed his rainbow-coloured locks straight into the trendiest salon in Glasgow.
He’d saved up for a couple of months to book a style and blow dry with the owner so that he would have forty-five minutes of undivided attention.
He’d told the owner about his experience, showed him photos of the edgy styles he’d inflicted on his mates, offered to work for free for a month and assured him he wouldn’t regret giving him a chance.
He’d been right about that. Grant had worked his socks off there for years, going to college on day release until he was fully qualified, then building up his own client base until he was one of the most sought after and well-known stylists in the city.
It hadn’t been a surprise when he’d taken off to London, ten years ago, and opened a salon in Kensington that had become a roaring success.
Although, much as she could burst with pride, she’d missed him every day since.
‘I was worried you wouldn’t get here with the snow,’ Jessie told him.