Page 56 of Two Wrongs
Expression softening, she places her cup down, and her attention shifts more solidly from her phone. ‘How’d it go?’
‘Surprisingly well. Mac... helped.’ She doesn’t appear worried at all by that, and I begin to wonder—not for the first time—just how well she knows him but stop myself from asking. Instead, I tell her, ‘I’m feeling... better.’ And as the words leave my mouth, I realise this is true. ‘You’ve been busy.’ I turn away from her inspection, feeling suddenly and inexplicably emotional.Christ, am I gonna be crying at the drop of a hat these next few months? It’s like my tear ducts have been unplugged.Behind me, the linen shelves are already full of freshly folded towels, and on the other side of the counter, the low table houses this month’s selection of glossy magazines.
‘I picked up the mags and some milk on the way in,’ Nat says, her gaze returning to her phone. I don’t offer her thanks—she wouldn’t appreciate the attention—though I silently resolve to show it some other way.
‘So.’ I flip on the recessed lighting and make my way to unlock the front door. ‘What’s going on in celeb city today?’
‘I haven’t looked yet. I’m looking at one of the supplier websites.’
‘Yeah? What are you looking at?’ Nat looks after the beauty side of my business as the treatments manager. She’s basically a manager without staff, though I have high hopes; the salon is doing fantastic for a new venture.
‘Vajazzling supplies. There’s thisHello Kittydesign I’ve got my eye on.’
‘So your kitty can be all...Hello Kitty? Is that like an ironic welcome or address?’
‘If it was a welcome I was after, I’d grow back my pubes, tint them brown, and make them a welcome mat.’ She takes a sip of her coffee before completely changing the topic of conversation. ‘June sent you some tablet in.’
My mouth immediately waters so bad I can almost taste it. Scottish tablet is the business. It’s basically what Fin calls fudge, though so much more. It’s sweet and gooey, though sometimes crumbly, and tastes like my childhood. It’s so much more than fudge because it has the bonus of—
‘It has whisky in it.’
Yes, that.
As she looks at me, I realise the point she’s making.Without words.
‘No more than a dram. Surely, that won’t hurt?’
‘If you’d told June about the baby, she’d probably have made it without.’
‘But then it wouldn’t be the same.’ My shoulders deflate. June’s tablet is almost legendary.
‘Or maybe she’d tell you it’d do no harm.’ Nat raises one taunting brow. ‘Suppose it’s up to you if that’s a risk you want to take. Besides,’ she adds, returning to her phone, ‘you can’nae eat sweeties for breakfast.’
‘You reckon,’ I retort.
‘It’s a bit early to use the excuseeating for two.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Little pickers wear big knickers, hen.’
‘There are times in a girl’s life when only big knickers will do.’ Nat sets off laughing again as I turn my back, heading for the kitchen. ‘Besides, they can’t be bigger than maternity ones, surely?’
Please, oh benevolent God, don’t make me so large I have to wear knickers small children can camp outdoors in.
Once inside, I flip the kettle on and draw out some loose-leaf chamomile tea, popping it into the strainer. The nausea has settled for the most part this morning, meaning I’ve already worshipped the porcelain bowl, but I know it’ll be back in a few hours. I make the most of my brief reprieve by cutting one of the yummy tablet squares in half. The piece I’ve cut would fit on a teaspoon; I can’t imagine there’s much more than a millilitre of whisky inside. Besides, the alcohol content surely burns off during the cooking process.
Am I gonna spend the next seven months obsessing over stuff like this and having silent conversations with myself?
‘Ah, bugger it!’ I shove the lump into my mouth and pour the heated water over my tea.
‘Just what the doctor ordered,’ I tell Nat as I carry the fragrant cup back into the salon. ‘Please tell June it was delicious and that I’m up for tablet, with or without booze, anytime.’ Nat doesn’t answer. She doesn’t even look up. ‘You and that bloody phone,’ I grumble. ‘I bet you don’t even put it down while you pee.’
‘Shush. Imma checking in on my people. Stalking my sites. There’s important shit going on this morning.’
‘Important,’ I repeat, though not in the same tone. ‘Did one of the Kardouchians break a nail? Come on,’ I cajole when she doesn’t answer. ‘What’s so vital, so riveting this morning?’
‘According DMZ, Dylan Duffy’s getting married.’
