Strong coffee helps. It slows me down when I’m swallowing it and speeds me up when I’m finished. Megan didn’t want me to stay at work. But I didn’t want to go home, so I insisted I was fine and capable of doing my job. Going home without a plan of action would be a bad idea. I’d walk in the front door, attack Tom with all kinds of accusations handing over any advantage I have. Yes, I will have to confront him. I know that. But I want to gather as much information before I do. Surely if Tom has another child there must be some evidence lying around the house.
When Tom heads out for his usual Saturday evening match drinks with the lads – the ones he feels so entitled to after minding his own kids for the day – I’ll search through his things.
With my head in a tizzy and my heart unfamiliar with the new beat, I welcome my next client and take her to the basins. Agnes is an older lady and unlikely to show me any photographs from a phone. She brags the traditional way, telling me how great the grandkids are. How fabulous her daughter’s house is and how happy she is that her gay grandson has finally found a partner. My mind is doing its best to ignore the elephant in my brain. I pay as much attention as possible to Agnes.
Nodding, smiling, agreeing. Thanking God that hairdryers are noisy.
By lunchtime I’m feeling a bit stronger. There is no client booked in for my service for half an hour so I take the opportunity to approach Megan.
‘Feeling okay?’ she says, without looking up from the computer. How does she do that? It’s like she has a secret pair of eyes hidden somewhere on her head.
‘I’m fine, Megan, sorry about this morning, I don’t know what came over me.’
Megan moves her attention to the big book at her side. ‘No need to say sorry, Sal, as long as you’re okay?’
‘Yes, thanks.’ I stall, wondering if I’m doing the right thing asking, I don’t want to raise a flag. But then again it’s the only way I’m going to find out.
‘I was wondering if that young girl, Charlie, the girl whose hair I was doing this morning…’
‘Yes?’ Megan swirls around in her chair and looks at me. Suddenly I have her attention.
‘Did she leave a number when she was making the booking?’
‘She didn’t make a booking, Sal, she just walked in off the street.’
‘Oh.’ My face obviously can’t hide the disappointment. Megan has shuffled her chair closer to me.
‘Sal, do you want to tell me what’s going on?’
I do, I really do, but it’s crazy so I can’t. Shaking my head while moving away, Megan grabs my hand.
‘You know I’m here, Sal, if you need me.’
Don’t cry, Sally, for Christ’s sake, don’t cry in the middle of the shop. Trying
my best to hold it together I head for the staffroom. Megan is so kind and caring with everyone, not just me. She’s like a mother to us all, even though she’s about ten years younger than me. I know I could trust Megan but I’m just not ready yet. Not ready to let anyone else know what I thought I saw, especially when I probably just imagined it.
The clock eventually reaches six. My feet are sore, my body tired and I can’t wait to go home. I need to see Tom to hear his voice and feel his touch. I’m sorry now that I even considered what Charlie said to be true. Tom and I have an honest relationship. We share everything, even the bad stuff. I know the man inside out. If I couldn’t trust him I wouldn’t be with him and Tom knows that. He knows why too.
Tears, fights, my mother standing at the window (sometimes all night long), waiting for my father to decide whether to come home or not. The night I heard her pleading with him, begging him not to leave even though he had just verbally abused her, threatening that he would not come back if she didn’t cop on. I knew then, that was not the life for me.