Chapter 18

It was sometime in mid-February when Margaret arrived at the salon to find a young child sitting on a stool near Miriam's station. He was holding a clipboard on his lap and a crayon in his hand and was intently focused on a picture that he was drawing. Margaret glanced at him briefly as she walked past to the changing room, noticing only his blond hair. He must belong to one of the other stylist's clients she thought. It was only when she returned to take her place near the sink that she looked at him more closely and realised that it was James. He had grown in the year since she had last seen him; his legs were longer and he had slimmed down. His face had changed as well; she couldn't quite say how, but he appeared more mature; it was as though she could see the face of the young man he would become starting to emerge; he was less a toddler and more a young primary school child. Of course, he was four and a half now; it was time for him to grow out of his baby fat, she supposed.

Miriam spoke to him, "James, please say hello to Miss Margaret."

"Hello, Miss." James looked up from his work and, with a quiet smile, he greeted her as he was instructed.

"Good afternoon James. It's nice to meet you. Your grandmother has told me so much about you."

James beamed at her and added, "I'm drawing a picture of the beach. Would you like to see it?" He jumped down from his stool and brought his picture over to Margaret. "See it has the ocean and a sailboat with a palm tree on the beach. And here is Mimi's house up on the hill."

The drawing was very simplistic, but Margaret felt it would be impolite to ignore the boy's efforts, "That's very nice James. I like how you drew the sun and some clouds. Very realistic."

Miriam leaned over and gave him a kiss on the top of his head. "Thank you, James. Now go back to your seat so I can fix Miss Margaret's hair."

"Yes ma'am." James returned to his seat and resumed his work, exchanging his crayon for one of a different colour.

Miriam apologised as she began to wash Margaret's hair, 'I'm so sorry. Louisa is visiting this week and she needed to run get some bits and bobs for Robert and asked if James could stay here whilst she did her errands. He's really good as gold and I don't think he will bother us. Louisa shouldn't be much longer."

"Mmm. Yes, he does seem to be a very well-behaved child."

As they moved over to the chair and Miriam started her work, Margaret studied James a little more closely. She could see some of Martin's features surfacing in his face, but muted. His lips weren't quite so large, nor were his ears, thank god for that. His was a face that had potential, and his overall demeanour was quite pleasant. She hoped he wouldn't turn sullen and withdrawn as he matured, as his father had.

"Have Louisa and the children been here long?" Margaret had to admit to herself that she was curious to get a look at Louisa and Robert in person … especially Robert. She hoped that Louisa wouldn't remember her from last year at the resort.

"They arrived Sunday and will go back to London on Saturday. To tell you the truth, I am just about ready for them to go. Robert is getting into everything these days. He crawls faster than most children can walk, and he loves to climb. I've had to put up all my knick-knacks, ash trays, and anything else that isn't nailed down up higher than he can reach."

"I thought you said he had started to walk."

Miriam shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes, "Yeah, he is walking, but when he wants to cover ground in a hurry, he drops to the floor and crawls. I don't know how Louisa keeps up with him."

"Children can be quite energetic" Margaret replied, "in my experience."

"Yeah, that they are." Miriam leaned around Margaret and reached under her table to pull out an album of hair styles, "I've been thinking. Have you thought about a new look? Nothing too radical, but perhaps a bit shorter at the sides with just a bit of layering. It will be spring soon and a fresh look might be just the thing. She opened the page she had marked, "I was thinking something like this. Hmmm?"

Margaret hadn't thought of making any changes and was somewhat taken aback at the suggestion. Still it was flattering that her stylist had thought of something special just for her. The style was quite lovely. Perhaps she should consider an update. "How difficult would it be for me to maintain during the week?"

"Not much different from your current style. I can show you what you need to do."

"Let me think about it. I'll let you know before I come in next week."

"That'll work. Now, you do need a slight trim today." Miriam picked up her shears and made a few snips before pulling out her dryer.

Before long, Louisa peeked in, "Mum. I'm going to take James and head back to the house. See you later?"

Miriam paused and stepped back from the chair. Margaret could see Louisa in the mirror; she appeared unkempt with her hair falling out of its ponytail and her clothes askew. She shifted in her chair, straining ever so discreetly hoping to catch a glimpse of Robert.

"Where's Robert? I want to show him off." Miriam walked away from Margaret to peek over Louisa's shoulder. Before Louisa could respond, Miriam had found Robert and picked him up out of his push chair and walked up next to Louisa. "Louisa, I've told Margaret so much about you and the kiddies. She's met James, and I'm sure that she'd loved to meet you. Margaret, this is my daughter Louisa and this is Robert."

Margaret turned around in her chair, and using her most polished London accent and a simple smile, greeted them formally, "Yes, your mother is always talking about you and the children. She is very proud of you." Again, Margaret hoped that she looked and sounded different enough from a year ago that Louisa wouldn't make any connection to their meeting at the resort last winter.

Louisa smiled, ducking her head and trying unsuccessfully to tidy her hair back into its band. "It's nice to meet you ... and it's so very nice to hear that she tells her clients good things about us."

"You have lovely children. And James is quite the young gentleman, so well behaved."

"Yes, we are quite proud of him." She reached over to take Robert from her mother's arms and Robert grinned broadly at Margaret. "Mum, I need to take the children back to the house. Robert is overdue for his nap." She settled Robert back in his push-chair, then turned to her older son, "James, put your crayons and picture away. It's time to go."

"Just a minute mummy. I need to sign this picture." In a moment James hopped down from his stool, walked over to Margaret and held out his artwork. "Would you like my picture?"

Louisa interjected, "Oh James that is so sweet, but I doubt that Miss Margaret has any place to put a new picture."

Margaret gently shook her head at Louisa, "I would love to have your picture James. It's beautiful, and so kind of you to give it to me. I will keep it in a special place to remember you by." She held it out and perused it, "And I see where you have signed it …. James Henry Ellingham. That makes it even more special."

James was beaming as Louisa turned to go and ushered him out the door. "Did you hear that Mummy. She likes my picture."

Miriam returned to Margaret, "You were very kind to James. Thank you."

"He's a special little boy. I can see why you are so proud of your daughter and her children."

"Yeah, she's done a good job with James. You wouldn't know it, but Robert is usually a lot friendlier … guess we didn't give him enough time."

"He seems quite sweet."

"Yes."

After Margaret left the salon, she stopped by one of the shops and bought a frame for James' picture. She hung it inside her wardrobe where she could look at it each day and, more importantly, where Christopher would never see it. She found herself studying this picture more often than she had anticipated. It was a simple child's depiction of the beach, primitive really with no hint of future artistic talent. Even James' signature was uneven and childish, although that was to be expected as he was not yet five. Why, she wondered, was she drawn to it? She smiled to herself as she recalled his friendly manner, open and congenial, all that his father was not. He really was a charming child. If she closed her eyes, she could still recall his face as he asked if she would like his drawing, so sweet and generous.

She had never understood the appeal of children. They were either loud and offensive, miniature terrorists running through public spaces disturbing the peace, or they were crying and whinging, pestering their parents for some toy or other trinket. That was how she imagined all her friends' grandchildren. James was different. He could easily be a delightful companion, and she could imagine spending time with him. In James, she could see the appeal of grandchildren. She reached out to touch his drawing and sighed.