‘He is. He makes me happy.’
‘Yeah? Well as long as he keeps making you happy, I’ll keep my nose out of things. I’m sorry for being a dick the other day. I was just pissed off over the break-in and worried about you. Forgive me?’
‘In a blink, m’love.’ Amy gave him a small smile that went south again when she remembered what Jo had said. ‘I know this is probably a stupid question, but Jo was out of line, yeah?’
‘So far out she’s left the ballpark.’
‘I’ve never felt this angry at her before.’ Amy looked down at her hands in her lap.
Scott reached over and tucked a loose curl behind her ear. ‘I know, squirt. But remember, you have a right to be. It’ll be okay. Just give it a while, cool down and then make her really crawl when she gets her head out of her arse and says sorry.’ He tweaked her nose. ‘You feeling better?’
Amy hauled in a deep breath. ‘Yeah.’
‘Good, because I’ve got something I’ve been meaning to ask you . . .’
‘Yeah?’
‘What’s with the slobbering lump in my hallway?’
The next afternoon, Amy was having her bimonthly coffee and gossip with Harry Lawson while Harry’s hair treatment worked its magic. It was widely rumoured that Harry was a big player in Perth’s criminal underworld, but as far as Amy knew, he was just a huge, somewhat hairy cupcake. Whenever he came in for his beard and hair trim, he made a point of bringing her flowers and tried, at least for the first two seconds, to curb his language. Knowing Harry’s predilection to use the F-word as verb, noun and adjective, usually at full roaring volume, Amy always made a point of scheduling him at a time when business in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes was quiet.
Her phone rang, interrupting Harry’s story about his son’s latest run-in with the police.
‘You want to get that, luv?’ Harry asked while nibbling away at the chocolate cake Amy had just served him. Harry was the only one of her male customers who required a proper dessert fork to eat.
‘Would you mind?’ Amy wrapped a black towel around his thinning pate.
‘As long as I’m eating, she’ll be right. Besides, from what you’ve just told me, you’ve had a fucker of a weekend. This is fuckin’ good cake by the way.’ He took another delicate bite.
‘Thanks, Harry.’ Amy quickly fished her phone out of her bag, hoping it would be Jo calling to apologise. She squashed down a small twinge of disappointment when she saw it wasn’t, then lit up like an electrical storm when she realised it was Ben. ‘Hey,’ she breathed.
‘I’m looking for a petite sexy blonde with a shoe fetish, would you know if one’s available?’
‘I don’t know. I’ll see if we have any in stock,’ Amy replied, grinning.
‘See that you do. I’m in desperate need. Not that I can do anything about it. I’ve got bad news, I’m afraid.’ In the background Amy could hear the sounds of traffic and some sort of public announcement.
‘Let me guess . . . you have to fly somewhere and want to cancel coming to my place and enjoying my delightful company this evening?’ They’d made plans, but with all the melodrama Amy had forgotten about them until just now.
‘Unfortunately yes. I have to fly to Sydney for a round of meetings in addition to a few radio and talk show appearances to bolster my local profile,’ Ben said. Amy heard a car door slam. ‘It’s either that or go back to London, and since Marcella’s story’s still hot, I’d rather be flayed alive.’
She smiled at the irritation in his tone. ‘You gonna be back by Friday for our trip?’ She crossed her fingers, hoping he’d say yes. On a whim – or fit of insanity, depending on how one viewed it – she’d come up with the idea of taking Ben on a trip to the country, more specifically to her hometown, George Creek.
She’d thought he’d be resistant since he was such a city boy. Instead, she’d been pleasantly surprised by how quickly he’d agreed to her plan. His interest had seemed so genuine, the last tiny bit of resistance she’d felt against falling hard for him dissolved. She trusted Ben and knew she was doing the right thing in not snooping about him. If anything, Jo’s criticism had strengthened her resolve. Although it was so easy to find out information about people nowadays, looking him up still felt the equivalent of hiring a private investigator. It implied a whole lot of things she didn’t want to have marring their relationship.
‘If I’m not back by Friday, I’ll be kicking some arse,’ Ben growled. ‘I have to go. See you soon. I do believe I’ll miss you.’
‘Miss you too.’ Amy hung up, catching sight of her goofy grin along with Harry’s curious expression in the mirror.
‘You got yourself a new one, have you?’ He’d been coming to Babyface for four years now. Over that time he’d managed to winkle a good number of details about Amy’s life from her. She didn’t mind. For all his gruffness and roughness, Harry reminded her of a favourite potty-mouthed uncle.
‘Yeah, Harry. But only because you’re married to your lovely lady, otherwise I would have snatched you up,’ Amy said, referring to Tracey, Harry’s wife of twenty years and a formidable woman to say the least. She checked his hair. ‘Want to come to the back with me and we’ll wash this out so I can make you handsome?’
‘Whaddya mean? I’m already fuckin’ handsome. Look at me.’ Harry puffed out his beer belly and gave Amy a big cheesy grin, his snaggly, startlingly white teeth contrasting brilliantly with his bushy black beard.
Amy clasped her chest and fluttered her eyelashes. ‘Smitten, Harry. I’m smitten. How about more handsome?’
‘Too right, ya fuckin’ are. If I get any better lookin’ my missus’ll not get anything done all day.’ He beamed.
‘Hurry up, Romeo,’ Amy called out, gesturing for the basin.
‘You got that shampoo for sensitive scalps you used last time?’
‘Sure do,’ Amy replied, settling Harry before getting to work giving him a head massage. She never skimped on spoiling her clients and had never once let a bad mood get in the way of good service. This was something she was good at. The attention to detail paid off. Most of her clients were regulars, or referrals from regulars. After the first year of opening her businesses, she’d never had to advertise and, more often than not, she had to turn people away.
Over the years, whenever she’d doubted her worth due to her father’s abuse, her mother’s apathy, or her own less-than-stellar track record with men, Amy’d always had her work to remind her that she was good at something.
To Amy, Jo had always been the real success story. Since Amy had been born, Jo had managed to raise her and shield her from their parents, and later got her to safety when they’d needed to leave home. After that Jo had got herself a chemical engineering degree between working shifts as a roughneck on the rigs up north, allowing Amy to get her hairdressing and barber qualification and open Babyface and Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.
Amy had always worshipped her sister. Jo had sacrificed so much for her – given so much. It had been the least Amy could do to shelter Jo from some of the more yucky things that had happened in her life. Surely Jo hadn’t meant what she’d said yesterday? It was just worry about the baby. It had to be. She’d come around and apologise. It’d just be a matter of time. For now, Amy would get Harry taken care of and then do her best to dwell on the good stuff.
She and Ben were going on a holiday together. Like a couple. On holiday. Excitement washed over her as the reality of her situation sank in and her worry over her fight with Jo temporarily abated. For the first time, she allowed herself to think of herself as being in a serious relationship with Ben Martindale. She had a boyfriend. And they were going on a holiday. Things were going to be alright.
Later that afternoon, Amy made sure the salon and barbershop were well taken care of by Mel before piling Gerald into the car and reluctantly making her way to the Fremantle police station. She was expecting a nightmare few hours of paperwork and a bunch of invasive personal questions but, much to her surprise, she was i
n and out of the place in only a short amount of time – albeit feeling only marginally relieved.
All the police could officially do was put Liam’s abusive letter on file so that it could be used as evidence if he did anything else. Amy had felt disheartened at that until a wonderfully helpful senior constable named Kerry promised he’d go around and have a talk with Liam when he was next home from the rigs.
Amy hated to think what Liam’s reaction was going to be. She doubted it would be pleasant but hoped he’d take the warning and back off instead of doing anything stupid. The last time she’d openly had a confrontation with him when he was angry, she’d stumbled away with a bruised jaw and two cracked ribs.
As if sensing her distress, Gerald hadn’t wanted to sit on the backseat of her car and was instead perched next to her in the front, regarding her with a floppy-jowled expression that she liked to think of as wise. If wrinkles and bad teeth were an indicator of wisdom, Gerald had it by the bucket load.
‘You gonna protect me if I have any trouble, boy?’ she asked him as she turned the car towards her home, switching on the radio and filling the air with Lady Gaga. Gerald just noisily licked his nose and sniffed at the scents coming through the passenger side window. Amy had left it down a little for him while she was in the police station and small spatters of rain were now flying in and beading on his box-shaped head.
‘I’ll take that as a yes.’
She began determinedly singing along with the music but no matter how loud she sang, she still couldn’t drown out all the worries rattling around in her head. Right now, Liam was the least of them.
It was going to be a long week until Ben returned on Friday, and Amy prayed things would be sorted out with Jo by then. As much as she wanted to, she knew she really couldn’t buckle on this one. Jo owed her an apology. The problem was, she had a feeling Jo wasn’t really in a state to come to the same conclusion any time soon.
Amy’s heart ached for Jo, knowing full well how much her fear over her impending motherhood must be eating at her. At the same time, Amy experienced a surge of frustration that Jo was making things harder for herself than they needed to be. Heaving a sigh big enough to rival the ones Gerald specialised in, Amy pulled her car into her driveway, deciding to break out the ice cream and maybe call Myf, who would put a rosy glow on everything and make it all okay.
It took Jo three days to break the silence. When the call came, it was seven in the evening and Amy had arrived home after a futile attempt to take Gerald for a walk along the beach. Well, walk wasn’t the appropriate word in Gerald’s case. Drag would have been more fitting.
Jo started talking before Amy could even say hello. ‘Amy, we need to talk. The sooner the better.’
‘Okay.’ Amy’s heart skipped a few beats as the anger she’d been harbouring dissolved. ‘You want to come over here?’
‘Yeah. In about half an hour?’
‘Okay.’ She breathed a sigh of relief the minute Jo hung up. It was going to be okay.
She scooted into the kitchen, almost tripping over Gerald, who was sleeping in the doorway, and went through her cupboards to find the makings for peanut butter chocolate chip biscuits. They were Jo’s favourite.
By the time she heard Jo’s motorbike pulling up in the drive, her house smelled mouthwateringly good and she’d set the kitchen table with a pot of peppermint tea and Jo’s favourite mug. Amy eyed the table speculatively and worried for a moment about napkins. Maybe she should put out napkins.
‘Ames?’
‘Come in. I’m in the kitchen,’ she called out, pulling the biscuits out of the oven. They’d need a few minutes to cool down and firm up but she knew Jo liked it when they were all gooey. She turned at the sound of Jo’s feet thudding over the floorboards.
‘I made some bikkies,’ she said, her back still to Jo, quickly grabbing two plates out of the cupboard and piling a couple of biscuits on each. ‘There’s tea there for you too.’ She spun around with a smile that froze when she saw Jo’s pained expression. Her brow furrowed. ‘You feeling okay, or is the smell making you, y’know, morning sickness-y? Because if it is, I can open the back door.’
‘No,’ Jo said heavily. ‘And by the way thanks for sending Stephen home on Sunday. He thinks I’ve got cancer or something and has been on my back all week. I’m here to talk, not to fuck around with food.’
‘What? Oh?’ Amy stood in the middle of the kitchen watching her sister warily. ‘You haven’t told him yet?’
‘No, I bloody well haven’t told him yet.’ Jo impatiently ran a hand through her hair. ‘If I’d told him, I wouldn’t be here because I know for a fact he’d kill me before letting me ride my bike while pregnant.’
‘Oh. Okay. So?’ Amy ran her sweating palms up and down her legs. This wasn’t working out how she’d expected and Jo seemed anything but repentant. She’d rehearsed telling Jo about Liam over a hundred times in her head these last few days. She knew it was time but she still felt sick at the thought of seeing the hurt on Jo’s face.
‘So I’m here to tell you I still really think you’re making a big mistake but I screwed up saying it. I’m sorry about what I said the other day, about you being like Mum, I really am.’ Jo met Amy’s gaze before striding over to pull her little sister into a tight hug.‘I didn’t mean it. You gotta believe me, alright?’
Amy drew a shaky breath, hugging her sister back. ‘Yeah, alright. But there’s something I need to tell you—’ Before she could continue, Jo pulled away.
‘But the other stuff I said still stands, Ames. You’ve got a shitty radar when it comes to men. It’s dead obvious this new bloke is gonna treat you like crap like all the others. The sooner you realise it, the better. I’m only saying this because I love you and I’ve seen this way too many times. You know I care.’ Jo’s voice was earnest. ‘Just go look this guy up. Do a bit of research and see what he’s like. The last thing I want is for him to leave you a wreck. Seriously,I don’t get why you go with all these arseholes when there’s a good guy like Liam—’
‘Don’t go there, Jo.’ Amy’s entire body went rigid as the anger and hurt that had disappeared the minute Jo had called earlier returned to pool corrosively in her belly and the words she’d intended on saying evaporated. The thought of Ben in the same sentence as Liam was untenable.
Jo’s eyes widened at the vehemence in Amy’s tone. ‘Alright. Okay, but since you’re still friends and seeing him at the salon and stuff, I thought we’d be able to talk about this.’
‘He’s not my friend,’ Amy said abruptly. ‘He never was.’
‘Then why’s he hanging around? It was obvious he’s still got a thing for you. He’s a nice bloke, so what’s the go?’ Jo asked, obviously confused and confounded by Amy’s resistant attitude. ‘I mean, why are you bothering with this Brit—’
‘Ben. His name is Ben Martindale.’ Amy’s hands were shaking so she clutched them behind her. ‘And he’s my boyfriend and he’s lovely. I care about him and you’re going to respect that. Alright?’
Jo just tightened her lips and her expression turned mutinous.
‘Right?’
The sound of the oven trays plinking as they cooled down filled the small kitchen.
‘Just tell me one thing, Ames.’
‘What?’
‘What’s your problem with Liam?’
Amy felt something snap inside her. The way Jo had compared Ben and Liam and found Ben wanting was too awful to contemplate. She knew she owed Jo an explanation but not like this. Not when Jo was treating her like a child who couldn’t make her own decisions. It felt wrong. Now Jo had turned the situation into something that would seem like retaliation if Amy told her about Liam right now, she’d think Amy was saying it to get back at her over their argument the other day. That was the last thing Amy wanted. This had all become so messy and right now, as far as Amy could see, it was Jo’s fault. ‘You haven’t heard anything I’ve said, have you?’
‘Yeah, I have, but none of it mak
es sense.’ Jo’s expression turned belligerent.
‘No. No, we’re not going there. I told you to drop it. You’re going to drop it. We agreed not to talk about this stuff years ago.I don’t want to talk about it. I’ve asked you not to talk about it and you’re not listening. You owe me an apology. A proper one.’ Amy let her last words sit heavy in the room while she battled the need to be sick. Silence fell in the room. She tried to keep eye contact with Jo to punctuate her point, but out of the two of them, Jo had always done confrontation better. In the end, Amy turned around and began piling the rest of the biscuits on a spare plate.
‘I’ve got to get back to Stephen. I’ll see you later.’ Jo’s voice was thick with emotion.
‘You gonna tell him about the baby?’ Amy asked quietly.
‘None of your fucking business.’
Amy heard the front door slam and slumped against the kitchen counter, indulging in a good cry before washing her face in the sink, plastering on a smile for no one in particular’s benefit and getting on with her day.
Ben considered not answering his phone. It was an obscene hour for anyone to be calling, but the blasted thing had been ringing for a solid thirty minutes so he supposed it could be urgent. Growling obscenities under his breath, he blindly fumbled on his bedside table, hoping to hell it would be a wrong number, or better yet a friend, so he could wish eternal damnation upon their inconsiderate souls.
‘What?’
‘How does a generous advance and a twenty per cent take on each sale sound?’
‘Ross?’
‘Who else? I was going to call Colin but thought, what the fuck, I’d tell you first instead. We’ve had an expression of interest for that travel book I talked to you about and you’re going to bloody well do it because I need a new Jag. I get a cut too of course, being your go-between in this instance, and the Enquirer gets the exclusive rights to print bits and pieces of it as you go.’
‘And this couldn’t wait until morning because . . .?’ Ben ran his hands over his eyes and yawned hugely.
The Barbershop Girl Page 17
