Eleven
Molly had enjoyed her day out with her parents. It had been a while since they had been out to lunch. The last time was after her grandmother’s funeral. Not that it was much of a funeral. Just the three of them and the coffin, and that was gone, done, and dusted within the space of fifteen minutes. They had raised a glass of wine to Millicent Law at the restaurant half an hour later, and hoped she would rest in peace.
Which was something Molly had been unable to do since Saturday and that conversation with those damn Boot sisters. How different things might have been if she had managed to avoid them. Or if she had missed them entirely that afternoon. Now she had to wait for two weeks until the Boot sisters returned from their cruise. Would she ever manage to get a good night’s sleep again?
Why couldn’t she simply dismiss it from her mind? Her parents had. But then they weren’t the ones in the firing line.
What made her think she was? Perhaps they were right. Just because the Boots said her great-grandmother had a ‘condition’, it didn’t mean that she would have it too. But that was the wholepoint. She didn’t know what it was, so how could she know if she had it or not?’
Now she knew how a hamster on a wheel must feel. She was going round and round in circles and ending up exactly where she started.
Monday was her least favourite day at work. The salon was always quiet on a Monday. She was the only one in today, as Monday was her mum’s day off, and Cheryl, the other hairdresser they employed, was currently at a hospital appointment. Which basically meant Cheryl would be gone for hours. Last time her mum had an appointment at the local hospital she hadn’t been seen until almost four and her appointment had been at two-thirty.
Molly tidied the salon by waving a duster around, and stocked the shelves with more products. She made herself a cup of coffee and sat in the chair closest to the main door. Few people were out and about on this rainy Monday and her nine o’clock appointment had left a message on the answering machine saying she had to cancel due to the bad weather.
Law’s Lustrous Locks charged fifty per cent of the cost of the appointment if people gave less than twenty-four hours’ notice of a cancellation, but this client was a regular and she was eighty-six, so Molly deleted the message and waived the charge.
She swivelled back and forth on the comfy black leather chair and made plopping sounds with her tongue and her teeth as she stared out at the rain.
How had her life become so exciting?
