Another Day in Winter

by Shari Low

  Tom stepped forward, trying to dislodge the lump of dread that had settled in the pit of his stomach. The last time he’d seen these two, they were raging in fury at the fact he’d decided to return to Scotland after only a year in Brisbane. There was nothing they could do about it. He’d saved up money from his weekend and holiday job on a local farm, and he had enough for the ticket and to help him get by at his grandad’s house back in Scotland. He’d known that George would welcome him back, no questions asked, and he’d been right.

  He’d come back, gone to university, worked in McDonald’s at nights to pay his way and met Davie Bailey. The bastard. He couldn’t get the lying, scheming prick out of his mind.

  ‘Son,’ Norry greeted him with open arms. To any onlooker, they’d be just another family reunited for Christmas. How appearances could be deceiving. They would see nothing of the undercurrents, the grudges, the past hurts and resentments.

  ‘Hey Dad,’ Tom said, returning the embrace, because he couldn’t be rude and refuse. He turned to Rosemary, who automatically leaned in to do the whole “two cheek kiss” thing. He felt the vein on the side of his face pop again. He wondered how long it would take her to ask the big question, the one that any other mother would ask in the first few seconds of seeing him. But then she wasn’t just any other mother, was she?

  Norry and Rosemary had pulled thick jackets – his a padded North Face parka, and hers a silver fur coat – from their hand luggage and they headed out of the airport, into the car park, and unloaded the suitcases into the back of the car.

  ‘You’re looking well, son,’ Norry said, jovially.

  Tom marvelled at his father’s ability to act like absolutely nothing had happened. Their contact in the last twelve years had been minimal. Birthday and Christmas cards. That was what happened when you crossed Norry Butler. Yet, here he was, acting like the big shot father, happy to see his boy. But then, that had always been the way. Norry Butler was big on three things: charisma, charm and control. It was a pretty toxic combination.

  They were back on the motorway when Norry asked about George. ‘So how is he?’

  Tom shook his head. ‘Not good. They say he has a few days left. Maybe a week. No one really knows for sure. He wakens every now and then, but just for a few minutes. They’ve got him on pretty heavy meds to help with the pain. I thought we’d go by there first and see him.’

  ‘Sounds like a plan,’ Norry said. Tom couldn’t guess what was in his dad’s head. You never knew with Norry. Maybe he was here to make amends, to lay old ghosts to rest. Or perhaps he was already adding up what he thought he was due when the old man passed, and he wanted to make sure he didn’t miss out on anything.

  Still Rosemary said nothing, just sat in the back, staring out of the window.

  They’d taken the slip road off to the West End of the city before that changed.

  ‘Weather hasn’t improved any,’ she said with a sigh. Tom had never been great at reading her, but he’d bet a month’s salary that she’d rather be anywhere else but here. ‘So…’ She paused, pursing her lips, as if it was just too great an effort to ask the question. Finally there it was: ‘Have you seen my daughter?’ Fifteen minutes, that’s how long it had taken her, and only then after she’d commented on the weather first. Rosemary had never been big on priorities.

  There was a silence that was colder than the temperature outside, so she repeated the question, with just one variation.

  ‘Have you seen Chrissie?’

  ‘No,’ Tom bit back. Yep, there was the truth of it. Tom’s dad had an affair with Chrissie’s mother, then the two of them fucked off to Australia. Tom had gone along with them, Chrissie had refused to go. Not only had he left his girlfriend, but he’d done it when her mother had deserted her too. She’d been left with no one.

  Maybe she was better off with Davie, because no matter what that duplicitous dickhead did, it couldn’t be worse that what he had done to her all those years ago.

  Sixteen

  Chrissie

  ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ Val asked. ‘You look paler than Josie after half a dozen tequilas and a go on those dodgy cigarettes she brought back from Morocco. Herbal, my arse. If there had been sniffer dogs at Glasgow airport, she’d be doing six months in the slammer right now.’

  The pendulum on Chrissie’s emotional state swung back to amusement. ‘I promise I’m good. And, Val, I can’t thank you two enough for all this. I really can’t.’

  The pendulum swung from amusement back to confusion. It had looked so like him. The bloke in the lift. Although, she didn’t have her glasses on and she couldn’t be sure. God, she really was losing the plot today. She was seeing him everywhere. There must be a name for this. ExBoyfriendus Bastardous Hallucinatitus. If that wasn’t already a thing, then she was inventing it now.

  They’d left Princess Square, crossed over the pedestrian precinct on Buchanan Street, then nipped straight back into House of Fraser to pick up a pair of furry gloves Val had seen earlier. ‘I think our Liv would love these. I’ve already got her a new soup flask for when she’s on double shifts – the hours they put in at that hospital are brutal – but these will be good for when she’s trudging in and out in all weathers. The staff car park is bloody miles away from the ward.’

  ‘She will love them,’ Chrissie assured her. Liv was Val’s niece – Val’s husband Donald was brother to Liv’s mum, Ida – and Val had a particularly soft spot for her. She was just one of the many people Val had the capacity to love. Chrissie felt lucky to be one of them.

  They left the shop by the Argyle Street exit and Josie immediately hailed a taxi. As they jumped in, manhandling their bags through the door, Josie gave the address of Sun, Sea, Ski.

  Chrissie’s first reaction was relief. No more surprises. She was hugely grateful, and it had been a wonderful day, but she wasn’t sure her heart could take much more.

  Ten minutes later, they pulled up outside the window with the gorgeous Alpine village display and climbed out.

  ‘Thank you so much, I’ve had a brilliant time. And I’m so grateful for everything you’ve…’

  ‘Stop! It’s not over yet, my love,’ Val proclaimed.

  Chrissie was puzzled, but that was soon remedied when Val and Josie slipped their arms through hers and marched her twenty feet further along the street, to the front door of Pluckers, the beauty and hair salon owned by their friend Suze.

  ‘Oh, no. Don’t make me,’ Chrissie begged as they ushered her through the door. ‘I’ll come out with eyebrows like caterpillars and lips like a sink plunger.’

  From her vantage point in Sun, Sea, Ski, Chrissie had a daily view of the women who came in and out of here and some of them were impossibly glamorous and seriously high maintenance. She knew Val and Josie were in every week and Suze regularly popped in to Sun, Sea, Ski to have lunch with them in the staffroom. She’d been badgering Chrissie to come in for a bit of pampering for the two years she’d worked there, but Chrissie had other things to spend her money on. Even if Suze did give them a forty per cent discount. Besides, she could dab on a bit of nail varnish and slap on a facemask by herself and it would cost her almost nothing.

  Val and Josie ignored her objections, nudging her through the door where they were immediately assaulted by a riot of activity. Pluckers was one of the most popular salons in the area, and today was one of the busiest days of the year, with clients lining up to get their pre-Christmas treatments and pampers. Chrissie felt a twinge of relief when she saw that it wasn’t wall to wall model types. There was a whole section of hairdressers, working on the crowning manes of a range of women, from teenagers to ladies of Josie’s generation. At the nail bar and make-up section, every seat was taken, and there were several people sitting in the reception area, flicking through magazines, waiting their turn. Chrissie had a tiny hope that she was going to escape the onslaught, because perhaps the salon would be too busy for Suze to fit her in.

  Josie took charge. ‘Look, we know y
ou hate all this stuff, so we we’ve just booked you in for some make-up and a manicure and a bit of—’

  ‘A bit of what?’ Chrissie asked, fearing the answer. So they’d made an appointment. Bang went the hope of escaping.

  Suze, one of Chrissie’s favourite people, opened her arms to welcome them. ‘Josie, for a woman with a big mouth, you don’t half keep it quiet when it suits you.’ She turned to Chrissie. ‘She’s trying to avoid telling you that these two…’ she pointed to Josie and Val, ‘have booked you in for make-up, manicure and a leg and bikini wax. Apparently they’re concerned you’ll get lucky tonight and the bloke will need the assistance of garden shears.’

  Chrissie turned to a shamefaced Josie and Val. Actually just Val. Josie was trying to supress a smile. ‘Is nothing sacred with you two? You’ve seriously been in here discussing my sex life and my nether regions?’

  ‘It was her,’ Val said, pointing at Josie. ‘And you’re right. It’s unforgivable. To be honest, I’ve never liked her. If you no longer want to be her friend, I’ll take your side.’

  The two of them crumbled into peals of laughter, leaving Chrissie to throw her hands up. ‘What can you do with these two?’ she asked Suze with mock outrage. Although, that might turn to genuine outrage by the end of the waxing session.

  ‘Don’t do anything this week,’ Suze said. ‘Because Val’s cooking Christmas dinner and I’m really looking forward to it. After that, I say we sell them on eBay.’

  ‘Done. I’ll split the proceeds with you,’ Chrissie said, not quite sure how to feel about this. For a moment she considered resisting, but then she folded. She’d never had her make-up done by a professional before, a manicure would look lovely for Christmas, and they probably had a point about the excess hair situation. Not because she had any intention of having sex – because she didn’t at all – but because her plastic razor had been lying unused on her bath top since she pulled out her stash of opaque tights in September. ‘Okay, I surrender. Do whatever you have to,’ she said, conceding defeat.

  ‘Ah, another excited customer,’ Suze said, smiling despite the sarcasm. ‘We love all our clients to have that positive, can-do attitude.’

  Chrissie was still grinning when she was led through to a large treatment room, with two beds and couple of comfy chairs in the corners.

  ‘You’re getting the VIP room today,’ Suze told her. ‘Mostly because I can’t leave Josie out in the salon. She always feels compelled to speak to every customer and tell them exactly what she thinks of their treatments. She told someone the other day that her hair looked like she’d been in contact with a live electrical cable.’

  ‘It did,’ Josie interjected. ‘Although the sooner huge perms come back, the better. I couldn’t get through a doorway without turning sideways from 1980 to 1985.’

  Val and Josie plonked themselves down on the two armchairs, Suze paused at the door. ‘Help yourself to drinks and if you’d like snacks brought in, give me a shout. I’m sending Kylie in. She’s young but she’s lovely, and she’s less likely to sue if these two say anything that constitutes a hostile working environment.’

  Right on cue, Kylie sprang in, a ball of energy and enthusiasm, channelling a young Gwen Stefani with her shock of platinum blonde hair and deep red lips. She wore the salon’s uniform of black trousers and a shirt with her name embroidered in gold on the left shoulder and was pulling a trolley loaded with products.

  ‘Val!’ she exclaimed, deserting the trolley to give Val and hug. ‘And Josie!’ Another hug. ‘That’s made my day, you two being here.’

  ‘Lovely to see you too, pet.’

  She turned to Chrissie and held out her hand. ‘I’m Kylie. I think I’ve seen you before, when I came in for all my holiday products before I went to Magaluf in the summer. Don’t ever go. I came home with a wonky tattoo and an aversion to vodka.’

  Chrissie laughed. ‘Thanks for the advice.’

  Kylie leaned over and flicked on a switch that was attached to a pot-like container on the nearby counter. Chrissie momentarily wondered if she could get to the door before one of them caught her.

  ‘Okay, so here’s the plan,’ Kylie announced. ‘Let’s get the least enjoyable things out of the way first. We’ll do the waxing, then you can relax and enjoy the make-up and manicure. How does that sound?’

  ‘Erm, great. Yes,’ Chrissie replied. ‘Happy to go with whatever you think.’ And by happy, she meant “prepared to be tortured in the name of friendship.”

  ‘Great,’ she said. ‘Okay, if you can remove your trousers, but leave your knickers on…’

  ‘Josie, let’s go and give the lass some privacy,’ Val suggested.

  ‘No, it’s fine,’ Chrissie countered, which was just as well, because Josie was already fishing refreshments out of the under counter wine fridge. She unscrewed the top of a bottle of rosé and poured it into three glasses that were among many on a silver tray on the countertop. ‘I’ve long accepted that there’s no such thing as privacy when it comes to you two,’ Chrissie teased.

  ‘Amen to that,’ Kylie echoed. ‘It’s like they’ve got some cosmic force that just makes you tell them stuff.’

  ‘Ah, but your secrets are always safe with us,’ Val said, winking at the young woman.

  Kylie got a fit of the giggles, then reached down and pulled something from the bottom shelf of the trolley she’d brought in with her. ‘Right, ladies, here’s the swear box.’

  ‘What’s that for?’ Chrissie asked.

  ‘When we do waxing the language can get a bit… interesting. So we have a swear box that we donate to a children’s charity every Christmas. Josie has almost single-handedly bought them a new bus.’

  ‘I love that idea,’ Chrissie said, trousers off, and now taking up a comfortable position on the bed. She wasn’t looking forward to this at all, but it was too late to get out of it.

  Kylie got to work and the swear box was owed at least a fiver by the time she was done. She did, however, keep Chrissie’s mind off it by chatting the whole way through.

  Balm on, she stepped back and surveyed her work. ‘Perfect. Okay, let’s do nails next.’ She pulled her trolley over and offered Chrissie a selection of colours. ‘Let’s go for bright red, since it’s Christmas,’ she suggested. Chrissie went along with it.

  Again, Kylie got on with the job, chatting as she went. Almost an hour later, as she put the finishing touches to one gorgeous smoky eye in shades of browns and golds, she returned to the subject of Chrissie’s plans for the night ahead.

  ‘So, let me get this straight. This is your first date for twelve years?’

  Chrissie nodded. ‘I know, pathetic. The last one didn’t turn out well and it put me off for a bit.’

  ‘A bit?’ Val said, eyebrow raised. ‘Folk get less than that for murder.’

  Chrissie nodded. ‘It’s true. But I’m getting back out there now. This is a start.’ She realised that she was actually feeling quite emotional. It had been a tumultuous day and she felt loved, cared for, and terrified all in the same breath. More than that, no matter how much she tried to suppress it, the prospect of going out with another man and the scare she’d had earlier when she thought she saw Tom, was dredging up those feelings again.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Kylie asked, realising that her client was suddenly misty eyed.

  ‘Oh love, not again,’ Val said to Chrissie, her voice thick with sympathy as she reached over and took her hand. Then to Kylie, ‘She’s been doing this all day.’ She turned to Chrissie. ‘Chrissie, I need to say this… I think you need to tell us what happened. We won’t judge. And I’ll gaffer tape Josie’s gob up so there will be no comments either. I think it’s only if you get it off your chest that you’ll be ready to move on.’

  Silent tears were running down Chrissie’s face now.

  ‘Oh, fuck, the make-up. The make-up!’ Josie wailed, rushing towards her with a packet of tissues.

  ‘Swear box!’ Kylie exclaimed.

  Chrissie took a tis
sue gratefully, realising she’d cried more today than she had in years.

  ‘You’re right, Val,’ she said, when the mascara had been saved. ‘It’s time I stopped bottling everything up. Okay, here goes…’ she took a deep breath. ‘Josie, you might want to keep the swear box handy.’

  4 p.m. – 6 p.m.

  Seventeen

  Tom

  ‘No, I haven’t seen Chrissie,’ Tom responded, grinding the gears as his fury affected his driving. Not that either of those two would notice.

  Norry sat in the front, facing forward. ‘Just as well. It’s terrible what she did to her mother. Don’t I always say, Rosemary? You gave that girl a great upbringing and then she turned her back on you. It’s a crying shame what she did to you.’

  Tom had promised himself that he’d make this amicable, that he’d avoid confrontation, play nice, but it seemed that no one had informed his mouth of this decision. He hadn’t stood by Chrissie when he was eighteen years old, but that was a painful lesson well learned. ‘What Chrissie did to you? Are you joking me?’ he blurted out. ‘Do you mean, what you did to her? You left her when she was barely eighteen and never looked back. You two are unbelievable. What makes it worse is that you feed each other’s deluded points of view.’

  ‘Don’t you dare speak to us like that,’ Norry growled.

  ‘Or what? You’re going to ground me? You’ve got nothing to hold over me any more.’

  His frustration was palpable, but he knew that this wasn’t going to help anything. The whole point of them being here was to mend fences, to build bridges before it was too late. And he knew if that was going to happen, he had to be the bigger person.