Page 24 of The Home Grown
I wish I could say this is the first time, but Kathryn has pulled this trick before with no consideration for me.
“Right,” I say, trying to keep my smile from waning.
All I can think about is that she knows, and that’s why she’s here.
She knows, and she’s come to confront me—ask why I lured her son into such a fate … but when she talks, she sounds positively happy to be here.
That’snot the reaction of someone who knows.
At least, I don’t think it is, anyway.
“Oh, my goodness. I didn’t realise this was your salon, girls,” she beams.
Damn. I forgot how nice she is. And now I’m definitely of the opinion she doesn’t know. Even though I feel a flicker of warmth toward Mike’s mother, bitterness toward him knots in my chest—and his face clings to my thoughts like a balloon snagged on a branch, refusing to drift away.
“Yeah, well, it’s mine, but Ellie helps me out,” Kathryn says.
“Well, that’s lovely. How are your mam and dad? I bet they’re thrilled you’re doing so well here.”
Kathryn reels off a reply while I stand here, completely flabbergasted that this is even happening. Why, out of all the salons she could have picked, did Mrs Betts choose to come here?
I catch a peek at her nails—they look good. Like she keeps on top of her nail care. Which means she’s probably been going to another salon or something … okay, so maybe she knows after all. She knows, and he’s sent her here to talk to me.
“Ellie?” Kathryn says, nudging me in the ribs. “Are you okay to take Judy’s coat?”
I blink, pulling myself back into the room.
“I—uh, yeah. Of course.”
Mrs Betts smiles expectantly and I take several seconds to spring into customer service mode, taking her coat and hanging it on one of the pegs at the front of the salon.
I show her to the nail station and then offer to get her a drink, using it as an excuse to follow Kathryn into the back room, where she’s just slipped out of sight.
“What the hell are you playing at?” I whisper shout, coming to a stop behind her while she rummages through her handbag.
“What?” she says, turning around.
“Why did you cancel Mrs Smith and replace the slot with a nail appointment?”
“I have plans. Judy booked in with me and I figured Mrs Smith can reschedule. She’s one of your usual clients, El. You’vealready got her on board … now Judy, on the other hand is a new client. It’s an opportunity to gain a repeating appointment.”
I gape at my sister. “You had no right.”
“Uh, yes I do. This is my salon, so I’ll do whatever I need to do. Now if you’ll excuse me … I need to get on with something.”
Kathryn grabs her coat from the arm of the small sofa we have crammed in the backroom, slipping her arms into it before slinging her bag over her forearm.
She waltzes past me back into the main salon without a backwards glance.
I grab a glass of water and make my way back to Mrs Betts.
“Shall we get started?” I ask, forcing a smile.
“Is everything okay?” she counters.
“Yeah, all good. Sorry I took so long.” I push down the unease. “Anyway—what are we after?” I take her hands and rest them on the towel.
“How long hasit been since I saw you?” Mrs Betts says halfway through the appointment. I’m usually all over the chit-chat, but for reasons very much known to me, I’m pre-occupied with my thoughts instead.
