Chapter 44

Miriam had just finished with her 11:00 appointment and was grabbing a quick lunch before her 12:30 arrived when her mobile rang. Swallowing the bite she had just taken, she answered, "Miriam. How can I help you?"

"Miriam, so good to hear your voice. This is Margaret, one of your old regulars."

Miriam recognised the voice. How could she forget that polished tone full of self-confidence and condescension? "Yes, Margaret Ellingham. I remember you. How is your husband?"

"Oh …. "She could hear Margaret take in a quick breath; the line was quiet for a few moments before Margaret continued, somewhat meekly, "He is doing better, thank you for asking. In fact, I have returned to make arrangements to bring him back home, find help to care for him, that sort of thing. I was wondering if you had any time for me this week. I have missed you."

Miriam had no intention of taking Margaret on as a client once again. When Louisa called two months ago to ask about her, she had been furious to learn that the client she had confided with personal information was none other than Louisa's estranged mother-in-law. She felt betrayed. Why had this woman never told her that she was Martin's mother? It was the worst sort of betrayal, not just to herself, but also to her daughter and to Martin, the woman's son. She wanted to say all these things to this woman who had deceived her for so long, but she held her tongue. Sometimes silence is the best way to say what needs to be said. Let her dangle on the line a bit longer. "I'm not sure."

"Would you check? Please." Straight-forward request … no condescension, no haughtiness.

"This is my busiest season, but I will check. One moment please." If it had been anyone of her previous clients returned from several months away, she would have found a spot for her and been delighted to have her back and let her know, laughing and asking how she had been, but not Margaret. Miriam kept her tone strictly professional.

She put down the phone and proceeded to enjoy a bit more of her lunch before returning to the phone. "Sorry, I see that I am completely booked. You will have to find another salon. Good luck."

"Are you sure you can't fit me in … for an old faithful client." Margaret's tone was filled with sweetness, flattery, and hope. "You really are the best, you know."

"Sorry." She hung up and muttered, "Nasty old cow. Thinks she can sweet talk me into taking her back. She has another think coming." She wished she had an old-fashioned phone, one where she could slam the receiver down hard. Instead she banged her fist on the arm of the chair, "Ow!" just as the bell over the door chimed.

"Penelope. So nice to see you this afternoon." Cradling her bruised fist in her other hand, Miriam greeted her next client as she walked back to the changing room. "Come on in and get settled."

Later that evening as her last client left the salon and she was cleaning her station and putting her utensils into the steriliser for the night, she saw Margaret Ellingham walk down the street and into the shop. "Oh bugger. I suppose I should have known that old shrew wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. Well she's just going to have to learn she can't always get her way."

Margaret entered the shop and Miriam faced her with her hands on her hips. "I told you that I don't have any openings right now."

Margaret had been walking towards Miriam and halted at her words. She clutched her purse in front of her skirt and replied, "Yes. I understand. But that's not why I came."

"Why did you come then?" Miriam crossed her arms and stood defiantly.

Margaret raised her head, peering at Miriam over her nose, "I thought it was time for us to clear the air, so to speak."

"Humph".

"I can understand if you are angry or confused."

"Angry yes. Confused, no. I can't believe you let me natter on and on about Louisa and her husband and never told me that you were Martin's mother."

'Yes. I should have said something, but let me explain."

"There's nothing to explain. You lied to me for years."

"I never meant to lie to you. When you first showed me Martin's picture, I was completely taken off guard. I had no idea he had married or that he had a child and was expecting another."

"Maybe you would have known if you had ever expressed any interest in his life."

"I wanted to, but my husband was completely against our reconnecting."

"That's not what I heard. Joan said you were never interested in him, which is why he spent his holidays at the farm with her."

"That's not true. We both had obligations that prevented us from spending as much time as we would have liked with Martin."

Miriam crossed her arms defiantly, "Doesn't matter now does it? What matters is that you continued to ply me for information about his family life without telling me you were his mother. How could you be so deceitful?"

"I didn't set out to be deceitful as you put it. I didn't say anything when I first found out that your daughter was married to my son because, as I said, I was stunned to discover he was married. He had never seemed the marrying type of man. And then it never seemed the right moment to just say, 'Oh by the way, I'm Martin's mother.' How could I do that? When would have been the right time? And you always went on and on about how difficult he could be, and …. "

She sighed and adopted a forlorn look hoping to elicit some sympathy.

Miriam was having none of it. She had worked with women for years and she knew all the ways they could manipulate others. She was no fool. "And …?"

"Well, after a while, it didn't seem to matter. I had tried to convince Christopher to reconcile with Martin." Margaret looked down at the floor, somewhat hesitant, screwing up her mouth as if uncertain what to say, but continued sheepishly, "I wanted to get to know my grandchildren if you must know. But Christopher had never been able to forgive Martin for going against his wishes with regard to his career, and he couldn't see any reason to reconcile now." She paused again as if struggling to find the words to go on. "So eventually I came to think of Martin and Louise and their family as your family, someone to ask after at each visit because that is what one does with one's stylist … express interest in their personal life …. if you must know."

Miriam was somewhat shocked at Margaret's statement of the unspoken contract between a stylist and her client – each expressed interest in the other's personal life as long as there was the professional relationship. Occasionally a true friendship arose from these conversations, but usually they were pleasantries exchanged during the course of the visit. She sat down in her chair and mulled over Margaret's confession. She could see how it all came about. Margaret wasn't innocent of her treatment of Martin despite placing all the blame on her husband, and she must have cringed when Miriam criticised him. At least that is what a loving mother would have felt; but she doubted that Margaret was your typical loving mother? Again, that wasn't the point. The point was that she failed to admit she was Martin's mother once she knew he was married to Louisa, although Miriam could see now why she hadn't said anything; she might have done the same if she had been in her position.

She looked over at Margaret, who had sat down in the extra chair opposite her station, rummaging in her purse, trying to appear busy, anything whilst she waited for Miriam to reply. She suddenly felt sorry for this woman sitting in front of her, a proud woman with values completely at odds with her own. "Margaret … I understand … I can see how it happened. Even so, I still feel betrayed, and I just can't take you back as a client. I'm sorry, but I can't."

"Yes. I understand." Margaret replied dejectedly, but then added in a more hopeful tone, "Perhaps we could meet occasionally – for lunch or tea – and share pictures of the children. You could update me on their progress. I'm not sure if Martin will share any news."

The thought of sharing a meal with Margaret caused her to shudder, "I don't think so. But I'll tell you what I will do. I'll ask Louisa to send you the occasional picture of the children and a note or two on their activities."

Margaret brightened considerably at this offer, "Would you? That would be wonderful. Thank you so much Miriam."

"Yes." Miriam rose to escort Margaret out the door, "Now, if you will. I must finish and close up. Paulo will be waiting for me at home. It's well past time for our evening meal."