Page 72 of Summer in Greece

‘I see, I did wonder . . . I realise it’s been a long time since, you know, and I wondered if I’d been replaced,’ he asked.

‘No.’ She swallowed hard. ‘Not at all. Look, I don’t know how much you know . . . about what happened.’ She drew in a shaky breath and tried to hold it, to calm down as her past loomed up. ‘I understand you want to see me, but please, I don’t want any trouble. I was only seventeen when . . .’ She sighed. ‘If it’s some kind of revenge you want, then you’ll be pleased to know I’ve been through hell for the past twenty years.’ Her emotions rose and she realised she wouldn’t be able to talk for much longer. ‘I’ll meet you at that café at four o’clock on Wednesday. Goodbye.’ She ended the call abruptly, but didn’t seem to be able to terminate her emotions. Her heart was breaking and she simply couldn’t hold back the tears. Why was this happening now, after all this time?

*

‘Don’t tell me you’re coming down with a cold,’ Eve said when she noticed her red eyes.

Shelly tried to dismiss it. ‘No, they’re just protesting to the very idea of wearing mascara every day.’

‘You can do it. Come on, woman up.’

Shelly forced a laugh.

Eve came and sat on the corner of Shelly’s desk. ‘Listen, I can’t help but notice something’s been bothering you lately. If I can help in any way, you just have to say, you know that, don’t you?’

‘Oh God . . . Is it that obvious?’

Eve nodded. ‘I don’t like to see you upset. It’s worrying, and although I’m not going to pry, just tell me if it involves money or health, please, because I can help with at least one of those things?’

Shelly felt her heart swell. ‘You’re so kind, Eve, thank you, but you don’t have to worry. My finances and health are both under control. I’m meeting someone from my past on Wednesday, to sort out a few things, then I’ll be fine, promise.’

‘Don’t forget we’ve got our hair and nails at half one.’

‘No problem, I’m meeting him at four. I guess we’ll be finished at the salon by then.’

‘And you know what, there’s nothing like a pamper for giving a girl confidence. Not that you’re lacking . . . right?’

Shelly smiled. ‘Eve, thank you.’

*

Finally, Wednesday arrived. With two cat neuters and a batch of paperwork for pet insurance claims, Shelly didn’t have time to think. Someone had left a box of puppies on the doorstep, and an Alsatian with an ear infection was a tricky customer. By one o’clock, both Shelly and Eve were looking forward to the salon. As the clock ticked towards one-thirty, Eve stared at the phone and muttered, ‘Don’t ring, don’t ring!’ On the dot, Shelly locked up and they scooted six doors down to the salon.

Bella, hairdresser extraordinaire with impossible nails and plumped lips, ooh-ed and ahh-ed, pushing her hands firmly through Shelly’s lustrous brunette hair, scrunching, smoothing, stepping back and studying,

‘Don’t be nervous, darling, you won’t feel a thing.’ She pulled Shelly’s locks back into a ponytail and with one executioner’s swipe, chopped it off.

Eve squealed. Bella said, ‘Oops, darling,’ and Shelly stared at the clump of hair that lay next to her chair like a dead cat in the road. She felt the urge to gather it gently into a posh shoe box and give it a decent burial.

Two hours later, Shelly and Eve left the salon. ‘You look, a-maz-ing!’ Eve said. ‘At least ten years younger, and hot!’ She grinned. ‘I don’t know why you’ve never had a posh-bob before? It really suits you.’

‘Thanks. You look wonderful yourself,’ Shelly said. ‘I don’t know that I’ll ever get used to these nails though.’

‘Tell you something, he’s a lucky man, whoever he is.’

Shelly shook her head in alarm. ‘No, it’s not like that at all.’

‘Yeah, right, whatever.’

‘No really. Anyway, I don’t want to be late. Thanks for organising all this, Eve. I’d never have done it alone.’

‘You have a nice night,’ Eve called turning away. ‘I’ll expect a full report tomorrow, OK?’

Shelly laughed. ‘Sure. Bye for now, and thanks again!’

She strode through town, her copper-streaked, chestnut hair bouncing with each step. Catching her reflection in a shop window, she saw a new woman. Feeling empowered, invigorated, she admitted to herself, she wanted DJ to . . . what? Forgive her? Love her? OK, she would settle for like, if it was the best she could get. She turned into the next street and saw the café ahead. She stopped and stared, owning the moment in her mind. Building herself up, convincing herself, she was in control and could walk away at any time; but where would that leave her heart?

The door of the Honeypot Café seemed to grow as she approached. An Alice moment. She was ten minutes early, took a window seat, ordered tea – milk, no sugar. There was nobody about. The day seemed to darken, like a storm was rolling in. Her hair would be ruined by the time she got back to her car. A waste of money. God! She was turning into her father.