Elsa's Stand

by Cathryn Hein

  He put the butter knife down. ‘Oh yeah?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What are you hungry for then?’

  Elsa smiled.

  He was in front of her in a flash, big hands cupped around her jaw, thumbs stroking her cheeks while he stared at her with an expression of pure wonder. ‘How did I get this lucky?’

  ‘I’m the lucky one, Jack.’ She tugged on his chest hairs. ‘Now, are you going to have your wicked way with me or am I going to have to force you?’

  He laughed and kissed her. ‘You’ll never have to force me, little lioness. I’m all yours.’

  *

  ‘Oh my God,’ exclaimed Serenity upon entering the salon the next morning. ‘She walks!’

  Elsa rolled her eyes and continued folding the towels she’d extracted from the dryer. She and Jack had woken at sunrise to hollow, demanding bellies. He’d kissed her good morning, then risen to cook breakfast. They’d eaten outside, watching the world wake and smiling giddily at one another, while Daisy regarded them with pleading eyes in the hope it would earn her a tossed scrap.

  After showering with Jack—an activity Elsa hadn’t wanted to end—she’d dressed in the change of clothes she’d left in the car and, after a long, indulgent farewell, had driven straight to work where she put a load of towels on to wash, did her hair and make-up for the day, and settled down to administrative tasks.

  It was far, far too early to be in the salon, but if last night and this morning were anything to go by, Elsa’s spare time was about to be severely curtailed. No matter how crazy she was for Jack, Hair Affair was her lifeblood. She would not let it slip for him or anyone.

  Serenity made a tsking noise. ‘I’m going to have to have words with Jack. Clearly you didn’t have enough sex if you’re still upright.’

  ‘I’m not discussing my sex life with you.’

  ‘Unfair. I have to live vicariously through someone. I’m in drought and Jack’s a babe.’ She sidled alongside Elsa and bumped her hip. ‘Is he as big downstairs as he is everywhere else?’

  ‘Not talking.’

  Serenity gave her a good up and down. ‘Must be. You’re looking very smug.’

  Elsa was feeling very smug. Smug and still tingly from Jack and his expert touch. She really hadn’t known what to expect from him in the bedroom stakes. Passion definitely, but not the degree of tenderness he’d shown. He’d acted like she was precious. Like he was scared she wasn’t real. It was heady and wonderful and wondrous. She released an involuntary sigh, wishing the day over so she could be with him again.

  ‘Oh, you’re kidding me.’

  Elsa placed her folded towel on the pile and smoothed the top. ‘What?’

  ‘You’re in love.’

  She sniffed and lifted her chin. ‘Might be.’

  Serenity’s smile slipped and Elsa braced herself. ‘I know you don’t believe all that crap the oldies spout, but love’s a bit sudden, isn’t it? I thought this was just one of those insta-lust things.’

  It had never been just an insta-lust thing, not with Jack. She’d wanted him, all right. One stare from those pale blue eyes and desire had shot through Elsa with electrical storm intensity. It was more than that. It was his clench-jawed determination to hold himself together when she’d mentioned Kate that first day in the salon. His single-mindedness to present himself respectfully for his mum’s funeral. The way Daisy had wagged her tail in excitement when he’d emerged from the salon, and the affectionate pat he’d given her. His grateful nod of acknowledgement to Elsa for her help.

  They’d all spelled the same thing to her: Jack was a decent man, a kind one, a loving one. And Fate had delivered him to her.

  ‘Sometimes you can’t help it,’ she said.

  Serenity remained unusually quiet for a moment, then she wrapped Elsa in a fierce hug. ‘Good for you, Elsa. Good for you.’

  ‘Serenity …’

  ‘Ignore me,’ said her friend, letting go and carefully wiping a finger under her eyes. ‘I’m hormonal.’

  Elsa grabbed her shoulders. ‘You sure?’

  Serenity nodded and sniffed. ‘I’m wildly jealous too. Jack’s gorgeous and the way he looks at you … Wowsers! I’d combust on the spot if a man like him looked at me like that.’

  Elsa combusted too, but she didn’t think now was the time to mention it. Serenity had been single since she’d joined the salon and the joke about being in drought had enough piquancy to indicate underlying hurt. Perhaps something had happened recently.

  ‘You know you can talk to me, if you need?’ she said.

  ‘I know. I’m fine, honestly. Rotten period and all that.’

  ‘Okay, if you’re sure.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘All right. But I’m here, okay?’

  ‘Thanks.’ Serenity hugged her briefly, then smacked her palms together and rubbed them. ‘Right. Seeing as I don’t have anyone booked in for a while, I’m off to give myself a Brazilian.’

  Elsa clamped her hands over her ears. ‘Too much information.’

  Serenity laughed, twinkled a wave and headed for her rooms.

  Elsa folded the last towel and carried it to the shelf behind the wash basins, then spent a few minutes making sure everything was organised for her morning of wash and sets. Every second Wednesday was pension day and she had several clients with standing appointments. Except for a notable few, most were darlings who adored coming in for a pamper and natter. Elsa treated them like beloved friends, plying her ladies with tea and biscuits and spending more time fussing over their hair and wellbeing than necessary. It was their regular custom that had kept Hair Affair afloat before Wirra Station began hosting weddings. Rewarding them with treats and her time was the least Elsa could do.

  By eleven the salon was humming with chatter and ladies with heads under dryers or in scarves, or freshly washed and ready for styling. As she always did, Elsa had music from the fifties and sixties playing; the more popular tunes, like the Righteous Brothers’s “Unchained Melody” or anything by Elvis, always brought on bouts of reminiscence and impromptu sing-alongs.

  The Seekers were jauntily crooning “Georgy Girl” with Mrs. Fairclough on backup vocals when Miranda Brierly turned up for her appointment, as stiff and pucker-mouthed as always, and as un-“Georgy Girl” as you could get.

  Elsa escorted her to her seat. ‘I just have to finish off Mrs. Fairclough and I’ll be with you. Can I pour you a cup of tea?’

  ‘No, thank you.’

  Elsa returned to fixing rollers but could feel Mrs. Brierly’s stare. Something was up and Elsa had a fair idea what it was. Not for the first time, she wished for an apprentice or part-timer she could fob Mrs. Brierly off to, but Hair Affair still wasn’t turning over enough. Perhaps after the autumn wedding season.

  ‘How have you been?’ she asked, when it was time to deal with Mrs. Brierly.

  ‘Very well, thank you. And yourself, Elsa?’

  ‘I’ve been great.’ She draped a towel around Mrs. Brierly’s skinny shoulders and fastened a cape over the top. ‘Not as busy as I’d like, but days like today make up for it. Come to the basin.’

  Elsa was rubbing in conditioner, almost hopeful she was going to escape a lecture, when Mrs. Brierly spoke.

  ‘I hear you had dinner at Strathroy last night.’

  The devil on Elsa’s shoulder dared her to reply, ‘No dinner, just sex’ but she refrained. It didn’t do to poke the devil. Not this early into their appointment. ‘I did. It was a lovely evening. Jack’s a sweetheart.’

  ‘Must be quite different to his father then.’

  Almost every eye in the salon was directed to the back of the room. Having swivelled her chair around to face them, Mrs. Fairclough wasn’t even pretending not to eavesdrop.

  ‘I wouldn’t know, I’ve never met Jack’s dad. I’m sure I will though.’

  ‘You’d better be careful if you do,’ sniffed Mrs. Brierly. ‘Man’s a criminal.’

  ‘As you’ve mentioned on
other occasions, but like I said, as far as I’m aware Fraser Greene has never been convicted of anything.’

  ‘Just because someone hasn’t been convicted doesn’t mean they’re not rotten. Surely your parents have warned you of that?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, they haven’t,’ said Elsa, keeping her voice deliberately sweet. Her words though, were cutting. ‘My parents have enough faith in my judgement to let me make my own mind up about people, and not be taken in by malicious gossip.’

  Mrs. Fairclough hid her gasp with a cough and spun quickly around for her cup of tea as Mrs. Brierly lifted her head to glare at her. Mrs. Fairclough was a good ten years younger than Mrs. Brierly and the two had never seen eye to eye.

  Elsa turned on the taps to rinse, wishing she could blast the nasty woman’s head with icy water instead of warm.

  ‘It’s not malicious gossip, as you insist on naively calling it, Elsa. It’s truth. The man has known gangland affiliations and you can bet your bottom dollar that Jack Hargreaves is up to his neck in it too.’

  ‘You’re wrong.’

  ‘And you’re naïve. Mark my words. Like father, like son.’

  ‘You know what?’ said Elsa, slamming off the tap. It was one thing to gossip but this was a personal attack on her and on Jack and, small town or not, Elsa wasn’t going to take it. ‘I don’t have to listen to this. The Jack I know is kind and decent, two values you clearly lack.’ She unsnapped the cape’s studs and pulled it, and then the towel, from around Mrs. Brierly’s neck. ‘If you’ll please stand, I’ll escort you to the door.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  Elsa stood in front of her with her hand pointed towards the street. ‘Until you apologise for being a small-minded bigot, Mrs. Brierly, you’re no longer welcome at Hair Affair.’

  ‘You can’t do this!’ She touched her hair and stared at her slimy, conditioner-coated fingers in horror. ‘My hair isn’t done. Get back to work.’

  ‘My business, my rules. I can do whatever I want, and that includes picking and choosing my clients. I no longer want you as one. The door, if you please.’

  ‘I do not please!’ She regarded the other ladies. ‘Are you going to accept this?’

  ‘Well …’ said Mrs. Fairclough, clearly enjoying herself, ‘you were a little rude.’

  Elsa couldn’t believe the relief when a few others nodded. Her heart was hammering at her audacity and the fear of what this altercation might cost her business. She’d never thrown out a client before, let alone a town matriarch. But with each approving nod, and even a sly smile of encouragement from one of her shyer ladies, the prouder she felt about her actions. Someone had to take a stand, it might as well be her.

  Mrs. Brierly glared at Mrs. Fairclough. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Please, Mrs. Brierly, before this becomes any more embarrassing for you.’

  ‘Embarrassing?’ she spluttered.

  ‘You are being thrown out of a hairdressing salon,’ piped another brave soul, causing Mrs. Fairclough to giggle. ‘I’d call that embarrassing.’

  ‘I never!’

  ‘Always a first time,’ said Elsa, confident she had the majority on her side. She curled her fingers. ‘Come along now.’

  Mrs. Brierly glared at Elsa, then deliberately around the salon. With slow dignity, she pushed herself upright and stood regally erect. Elsa fetched her handbag and cane and held them out. The old lady hooked her bag on her arm and, knuckles white on her cane and water dripping onto her shoulders, marched for the door.

  Elsa raced ahead and opened it for her. Mrs. Brierly paused to give her a final filthy look, then exited without a word.

  Elsa closed the door and rested her back against the cool glass. Heat had invaded every inch of her skin, a combination of shock, fear and elation.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered. ‘That was …’ She swallowed, tamping down hard on a huge urge to cry.

  ‘Oh no, my sweet,’ said Mrs. Fairclough, rushing to hug her. ‘You were magnificent. So very brave. And, let’s face it, Bitchy Brierly deserved it.’

  Elsa gave a choked laugh and shook her head as her suppressed tears heated and prickled behind her eyes. ‘I’m never going to live this down, am I?’

  ‘Probably not. But buck up, you still have us.’ Mrs. Fairclough addressed her posse of excited pensioners. ‘Doesn’t she, ladies?’

  Nods and yeses followed, and this time Elsa really did cry. Not sobs but trickling tears of gratitude for herself and for Jack. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Now,’ said Mrs. Fairclough, tucking an arm through Elsa’s, ‘how about you tell us all about your lovely dinner? It’s a bugger getting old, and we so adore a good romance and that Jack is ever so handsome …’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jack couldn’t remember the last time he was this happy. He’d had moments, but they seemed hazy and weak compared to the blazing euphoria of being with Elsa.

  The feel-good buzz of her departing kisses lasted throughout the morning as he checked cattle, fences and troughs, mucked around with the dam pump and excavated Pa Hargreaves’s rusted rabbit traps from the back of the shed. He set the first trap at one of the warren entrances and stared at it. Despite the fine covering of soil, the trap’s vicious steel jaws left an ugly etch in the dirt.

  Jack regarded Daisy. ‘What do you think, Daise?’

  The dog rested on her haunches and looked up at him. Daisy was ten times the size of a rabbit and those steel clamps would mash her leg in an instant, leaving her trapped and in agony. Not a fate he’d wish on any animal.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, pulling the trap’s steel anchor stake from the ground and poking it at the plate. The trap snapped shut with a savage ring and a puff of dust. He lifted it free and gave Daisy a pat. ‘I reckon Elsa wouldn’t like it either.’

  Jack threw the traps on the junk pile and dusted his hands. He’d grab some poison next time he was in town and dig out the parts of the warren he could reach. Noticing Daisy panting in the rising heat, and feeling thirsty himself, he wandered back to the house for a drink.

  Elsa’s scent still hung in the air. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in the trace of her, wishing she was still with him, thinking of what he’d do, how he’d make her feel. Whatever feeling Jack roused in her, it would never be enough to match what she did to him.

  He shook his head and plugged in the kettle, then stared out the window at the hills, thinking about what she’d said the night before. About needing him, not sapphires. The impact of those words had been so intense he’d had to kiss her to stop himself from blurting something stupid, like asking her to marry him.

  Part of him still wanted to ask. He loved her. Just like she described her haircuts and shaves, she made him feel like a better version of himself. They’d had one night together. A mind-blowing one, he had to admit, but it was early days. Getting that heavy so fast would likely scare her off.

  There was also a part of him that kept questioning what a girl like Elsa was doing with a bloke like him. This was Wirralong. She was Elsa O’Donoghue, the girl everyone seemed to adore, who had a perfect, loving family, friends, and a life that seemed blessed. He was Jack Hargreaves, son of a suspected drug criminal and the town eccentric whose remaining family was a mess. A man regarded with suspicion at best and hatred at worst.

  How could it ever work out?

  The kettle snapped off at the same time his phone rang. Jack’s heart lurched at the thought it might be Elsa. He snatched the phone from his pocket and checked the screen.

  ‘Angus,’ he said, trying to keep the disappointment from his voice. ‘How’re things?’

  ‘Excellent, excellent. Just calling about dinner, as promised. How does tomorrow night sound?’

  Jack rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I … ah …’

  The solicitor laughed. ‘Don’t tell me: Elsa.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Half your luck. She’s a great girl.’

  ‘She is. Maybe next week?’


  ‘Of course. Whenever you’re free. Give me a call and we’ll organise something.’

  ‘Will do. Hey, before you go, have you heard from Jesse?’

  ‘Not for a while. Like you, he’s probably busy with that new girlfriend of his.’

  Jack blinked. New girlfriend?

  ‘Sounds like a nice girl too. Law student, although we won’t hold that against her.’

  ‘No,’ said Jack faintly, distracted by the news. ‘We won’t. Listen I’d better go. Thanks for the dinner invite. Next week for sure.’

  ‘Look forward to it. And Jack?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Kate would be proud of you right now. I know it’s been hard, Wirralong being like it is, but you’re doing well.’

  Jack’s throat went thick. ‘Thanks.’

  He hung up and reset the kettle but he didn’t want tea anymore. He wanted to lose himself in the joy that was Elsa so he could forget about all the other shit in his life. But hiding from it wouldn’t solve anything.

  When he’d worked out what message to leave, Jack called his brother, only to have him pick up.

  ‘Jack,’ said Jesse without warmth.

  Caught wrong-footed, it was a second before Jack answered. ‘Hey. Jesse. How’re things?’

  ‘Okay.’

  An awkward silence descended. Jack could hear voices in the background but it was too faint to determine if it was the television or radio, or someone nearby.

  ‘Jesse, can we …’ He closed his eyes. There was too much bitterness between them and he wasn’t good at this. ‘I found some photos the other day. I was thinking maybe you’d like to check them out with me sometime.’

  ‘Yeah, maybe.’

  ‘Come on, Jesse. Cut me a bit of slack. I’m trying.’

  His brother sighed. ‘All right. Look, what are you doing Saturday night? Dad’s having a few mates around for a barbecue. Nothing special, just beers and steaks.’

  Jack wanted to say no. Fraser’s mates were unlikely to be upstanding citizens and travelling to Melbourne would mean a night without Elsa. But this was the olive branch he’d been hoping for. If he refused this one, there might not be another.