Chapter 30
GEORGIE
Georgie’s first reaction when her mum came for her was to groan on the inside and kick herself for even thinking that Jessie would have let this go.
Of course she wouldn’t. Her mother was the maternal equivalent of a robot vacuum, constantly on the move, on an unassailable mission to pick up other people’s messes.
This was no different from the time that fifteen-year-old Georgie had her heart broken when she found out her boyfriend had asked out Linda Nesbit, who still, to this day, lived next door to Jessie.
Linda’s mum, Fi, had been in the salon getting her highlights done and had shared news of Linda’s new suitor, unaware that he was already seeing Georgie.
Jessie had remedied that straight away and both women had been enraged that their daughters were being played.
Now, Georgie had the feeling she was about to face a similar level of ambush.
Up on the makeshift stage, Moira and Loretta had fashioned two tambourines out of packets of crunchy pasta and entered their country era, so her mum went in front, cutting a path between the dancers, back to the space at the front door where she’d been stationed earlier.
Mrs Dawson and her sister were still happily tapping their feet to the music while their fingers worked their magic on their needles.
‘In the name of the holy jumpers, they brought their knitting?’ Jessie spluttered, chuckling, before telling Georgie to, ‘Wait right here and don’t move.’
Georgie did exactly as commanded, already trying to pre-empt the conversation, and come up with excuses, arguments and explanations as to why she’d kept Ollie’s job offer to herself and why she’d rejected it…
even though the very thought of that still made her wince.
That said, she knew she’d done the right thing.
Definitely. Absolutely. It was just going to take a minute to stop feeling like it could turn out to be a huge regret.
Her mother, meanwhile, disappeared into the throng, giving Georgie the chance to have a quick scope of the street outside.
A couple more inches of snow had fallen since she’d arrived and the streetlights were creating a stunning glow that made the whole scene look like the set of a Christmas movie.
It was completely deserted too, so no sign of the Nesbit triplets.
Hugo had almost given himself a heart attack chasing them earlier.
Georgie just hoped that no one was planning on driving home from here tonight because there wasn’t a car out there with four inflated tyres now.
Apparently, it was their party trick and their mortified mother, Linda, had explained that they’d bought some gizmo off eBay that took the air right out of the valve, before despatching her husband to track them down and get the mini-rogues home.
Linda was now recovering from the incident by boogying on the dance floor while belting out ‘Man, I Feel Like a Woman’.
However, the Hemsworth-esque bloke who’d arrived in the big Range Rover might not recover from the triplet’s tyre-deflating mischief quite as quickly.
Georgie was beyond curious to know who he was.
Alyssa’s new boyfriend? If so, she’d kept that quiet.
Georgie had no idea Alyssa was even seeing anyone.
Two minutes after she left, Jessie was marching back this way, carrying a tray with two cups of tea, two small glasses of sherry and a plate with two slabs of cake.
She put it down on Mrs Dawson’s table and was rewarded with beaming smiles from both sisters and a squeeze of the hand.
‘Thanks, Jessie,’ Mrs Dawson said, her voice croaky with the passage of the years.
‘Best night out I’ve had in ages. I told Olive it would be worth missing Coronation Street . ’
‘Aye, she did,’ Olive, sitting next to her, fingers going like fury, concurred.
‘What was that?’ Mrs Dawson asked, straining to hear her equally hard of hearing sister.
Now that her mum was satisfied that Mrs Dawson and Olive had been taken care of, she flipped her attention back and Georgie braced herself for impact.
‘Georgie, I need to ask you something and I need you to be honest. And just so you know, your brother already caved and told me the truth, so there’s no point lying to make me feel better.’
Georgie made a mental note to kill Grant later. He never could keep a secret from their mother .
‘If there were no obstacles in the way of it, would you have wanted to take that job in America?’
‘Oh Mum, there’s no point in…’ she began to argue, but Jessie stopped her immediately.
‘Just a yes or a no, pet.’
That’s when Georgie accepted that resistance was futile.
‘Yes. But, Mum, it’s done now and?—’
Jessie stopped her again, cutting in with, ‘And what were you planning to do after it? Come back to the salon or do something else?’
The question surprised her, mostly because it was one that she’d barely contemplated.
She’d figured leaving the salon and coming back after six months wasn’t a viable option, especially because there was also the possibility that the TV job could be extended or renewed for another season.
She repeated all that to Jessie, who took it all in.
‘So if there was a way that you could take that job?—’
Now it was Georgie’s turn to cut her mum off. ‘Mum, no. Absolutely not. I’ve told you, I’m not letting you change your plans for me. No way. You’re leaving tomorrow and that’s it.’
Her mum shook her head. ‘I’m not.’
Georgie felt sick. ‘Mum, you are. I can’t let you give that up for me. You’ve done enough.’
Her mum glanced over her shoulder, to check that no one was within earshot, and that the two lovely old dears next to them were still happy.
‘Georgie, much as I love you, I’m not giving it up for you. The truth is, I never wanted to go. I’ve been dreading it since the moment I agreed to it.’
Wow. This was a shocker. Back in the salon this afternoon, when Cathy had asked her about Jessie’s feelings on leaving, Georgie had assured her that her mother was happy about it.
And even when her dad had hinted at Mum’s reluctance earlier, Georgie hadn’t believed him because her mum had acted like she was totally on board with the plans.
First prize for faking enthusiasm goes to Jessie McLean.
‘But what about Dad?’
Her mum frowned, and Georgie felt her heart sink. They’d had a fight. Had they split up? Was she going to be a thirty-eight-year-old woman navigating her parents’ divorce? And who was getting her and Grant in the custody battle?
No, not possible. Her mum and dad loved each other.
Or was that something else her mum had been faking?
‘Actually, your dad isn’t going yet either. We’ve both decided that we’re going to stay here a bit longer, at least until after Christmas. Or maybe spring.’
Now she knew that something was definitely amiss. Her dad had been so fed up earlier. Was this why? Had he realised he didn’t want to go yet either?
‘But why?’
The only answer to that was a cagey, ‘It’s a long story and he’ll tell you all about it later, but right now I’m more interested in getting you sorted. So tell me, if you could take the job and still have a salon here to come back to if it didn’t work out, what would you think of that?’
‘I’d think I’d wish I knew that before I turned the job down because I would have given a different answer. But I still don’t understand how that could work, Mum. You’re going to have to explain it to me.’
Over the next ten minutes, Georgie’s chin must have gone up and down a dozen times, as Jessie mapped out her plan.
Every time Georgie had a handle on her reaction, another detail would be forthcoming, and she would reel to another emotion, travelling through surprise, outrage, shock, encouragement, reassurance, and finally…
‘I think that’s genius,’ she blurted.
‘Really?’ her mum checked. ‘I don’t want to put you on the spot, Georgie, and I would have waited until tomorrow to discuss it, but I don’t want you losing out if they have time to offer the job to someone else. Now or never, love. What do you think?’
What Georgie thought was that never in a million years would she have seen this coming.
This morning she’d been resigned to life in Weirbridge.
No, not resigned. That made it sound like she was being kept here in a siege-type situation.
The reality was that she’d been comfortable here, and content that her whole life was mapped out in front of her.
But that had changed now. It was as if the last week had opened a tiny window to the rest of the world and now that she’d started thinking about the possibilities, she wanted to reach out and explore them.
Kayleigh wasn’t at home and relying on her any more.
She was very definitely single. If she could take a chance on a different life, while keeping the safety net of the salon here, wouldn’t that be the best possible scenario?
And how amazing would it be to travel? If The Clansman got commissioned for another series, she could travel round America in between shoots, with Kayleigh joining her for as much as the university holidays would allow.
Or maybe come back to the UK and spend time with Grant in London.
Oh, and maybe meet a bloke – one that she hadn’t been married to and one that knew nothing at all about solar fricking panels – and have that one-night stand.
It wasn’t as if some incredible guy was ever going to find her in a hairdressing salon in Weirbridge – even though they did offer a 20 per cent discount on haircuts for men, ever since old Shug, the barber, had given in to his gout and retired .
‘I think that I’d bloody love it, Mum. Are you sure though? Absolutely positive?’
Her mum threw her arms around her. ‘Couldn’t be more sure. Although, I’ll have to return all those “going away” presents,’ she said, nodding to the fully stocked gift table. ‘But I’ll worry about that later.’
Georgie counted at least ten gift bags containing bottles. ‘It does look like there’s a lot of wine there, but those are for your birthday too, so I’m sure no one would want them back. We could just have another party and invite everyone again.’
‘Not your worst idea. But let’s wait and make sure that job in America is still available, then we can celebrate.
I’m just going to go and speak to Alyssa.
You might want to make that phone call.’ Mum squeezed her in another hug, then, in true Jessie style, checked on the elderly dears next to her before she left.
‘Would you like another drink, ladies? Tea or sherry?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t say no to another sherry, Jessie,’ Mrs Dawson croaked.
Olive was of the same opinion. ‘I’ll have one of those too, since you’re offering.’
Their hearing seemed to dramatically improve when it came to the subject of a tipple.
Although, right now, Georgie could empathise because she could do with a stiff drink herself. Was she really going to do this? She mentally calculated the time difference again. It would be late afternoon in LA, so she wouldn’t be calling at an inappropriate hour.
Her bag was still lying under the nearby table where she’d left it when she’d arrived, so she retrieved it and glanced around for a quiet spot to make the call, deciding that phoning back to beg for a second chance might not go down well if the sound of laughing, glasses clinking and Cher’s ‘Believe’ were all going on in the background.
Even the toilets weren’t safe, because last time she was there, Val was on guard outside and redirecting everyone to the gents’ because of a burst pipe or some other toilet emergency.
In the end, she saw there was only one thing for it, but a quick search for her jacket drew a blank, and she was woefully underdressed.
Time for improvisation.
‘Mrs Dawson, can I borrow your knitting for a second?’ she asked, raising the volume.
Mrs Dawson acted like this wasn’t an unusual request in the slightest. ‘Of course you can, dear,’ she said, handing it over.
Leaving the knitting needles dangling from the bottom of about a thousand rows of cable knit, Georgie wrapped the scarf around her several times, and stepped outside, immediately regretting the decision as the freezing cold air blasted into her pores.
She wasn’t particularly religious, but she sent up a silent prayer on the off chance that anyone was listening. Please let the job still be available. Please let the job still be available. Which quickly morphed to, Please don’t let me die of hypothermia before I find out if it’s available.
With hands that were trembling from the cold or the fear, she located the number in her recent call log and dialled it again.
It rang. And rang. And rang.
Until… ‘Hi, this is Bonnie Katowski.’
‘Miss Katowski, hello. This is Georgie Dern. We spoke earlier about the position working with Ollie Chiles on The Clansman set. You may have received a voicemail from me…’
‘Yes, I did. I’m sorry you won’t be joining us.’
‘Well, that’s the thing. I promise I’m not usually indecisive and a flip-flopping nightmare, but circumstances have changed at this end, and I’m now in a position to take the role. So I just wondered if it was still available?’