I try not to say that absence is a positive, to tell her the cliché that it makes the heart grow fonder. I don’t know what to say, so I settle for, ‘Is he in the army, then?’
She shakes her head. ‘No, Mum. It’s worse than that.’
My mind is filling with all sorts of frightening scenarios. She’s fallen in love with a gangster. Drug dealer. Long-distance lorry driver. Illegal immigrant. Travelling salesman. Undercover investigator. Tramp.
I opt for something positive and safe and ask, ‘Is he an airline pilot?’ and wait until her sobs subside.
Then she whispers, ‘No, Mum. He lives in Brighton, works in London. He travels all over the country, all the time. He trains every day, all hours, all week, plays games all over the world. I’ll hardly ever see him. His job is his life … He’s a professional footballer.’
Business is frantic for the whole week in the salon. Although Jade has several clients in the gym each day, she spends most of her time ringing and texting her new boyfriend. I even hear her speaking Spanish to him, although I’m sure that’s for my benefit, as I know her Spanish isn’t fluent, given her compulsively bad behaviour in modern languages when she was at school. My friend Amanda, who trained as a beauty therapist with me years ago, is my full-time assistant in the salon. She and I are working through a fully booked schedule, doing manicures, pedicures, massages, tanning, waxing. It’s non-stop.
By Friday, we’ve hardly had time for a natter, so I suggest we have lunch upstairs together, especially since Jade is down below in the gym doing one-to-one isometrics with an amateur racing cyclist who’s just turned forty and wants to improve his chances of winning races. Amanda and I go up to the kitchen and I make us a salad sandwich and a cup of tea. She holds up her hands and examines her chipped nails.
‘I’m owed a manicure on the house, Georgie. Look at the state of these nails. I look like an alley cat.’
I put a coffee down in front of her and smile as she attacks it with relish. She’s been my friend since we were at college together and we share so much history. I watch her hunched over the table, her shoes off, wriggling her pink painted toes, her feet stretched out at the end of bright orange-and-black leggings. Her hair is long, wavy and intensely red; although, as she’s told me several times, the bottle proclaimed it was cherry copper. She has laughing blue eyes and loves to wear colourful clothes. ‘Unless I’m avoiding a fella. In which case it’s the SAS jumpsuit and a balaclava.’ Amanda’s been married twice and she’s now living with a firefighter called Rhys, whom she claims is the love of her life. Where romance is concerned, she’s a self-proclaimed expert.
She waves a hand. ‘The problem is, Georgie – we need more help in the treatment room and Jade’s too loved-up to get her backside in gear. I mean, I’ve worked with you here for what? Five years? How many days have I missed?’
‘Two. Both hangovers.’
‘I know,’ she sighs. ‘But, I’m always here to work, always good old Amanda ready to paint someone’s nails and dye their eyelashes, spray them fifty shades of orange. We’re flat out, you and me. Where’s Jade? When she’s finished with the client downstairs, she’ll be back on the phone again.’
I sigh. ‘She’s in love.’
‘My point entirely.’ Amanda holds up an empty plate. I dump a sandwich on it and she tackles it instantly. ‘Love should make people happy. If she’s in love, why is she so miserable?’
‘He plays football in London.’ I shake my head. ‘She can’t stop thinking about him, bless her.’ I mimic her low voice and pucker my lips. ‘Te extraño cariño.’
‘And what on earth does that mean?’
‘She misses him, I think. I’ve heard her say it a dozen times. It’s so unlike Jade to mope about a man.’
‘I know. And she’s always on the phone to him.’
I sigh. ‘All the time. She’s going to see him later tonight. Perhaps it’ll cheer her up.’
‘Where’s she off to?’
‘Brighton. He lives in a little village by the coast. She’ll be on the three o’clock train. Then she’s going to London to watch him play in a game tomorrow. She’s not back until Monday night. I’ve had to move all of her appointments.’
Amanda shakes her head. ‘Let’s hope he’s good-looking and loaded.’
‘Let’s hope he doesn’t let her down.’ I fold my arms. ‘Or he’ll have me to deal with, Spanish superstar or not.’
‘He’s called Luis, Mum.’
Amanda and I turn round together and our faces flush like two red lollipops. My daughter’s leaning against the doorpost. I wait for hell to break out and mutter, ‘Sorry, Jade – I didn’t—’
But she’s all smiles. ‘You’ll have to meet him. He’s lovely. I know you’ll adore him. His English isn’t so bad and he’s so cute and funny.’
‘As long as you don’t get hurt, Jade.’
‘I’m fine, Mum. I told you. He’s the one.’
Amanda chips in. ‘Your mum’s only saying – it’s all been a bit quick.’
Jade throws her head back, laughs out loud. ‘And this from the woman who’s had how many husbands and affairs?’
Amanda waggles her head. ‘When you’re a mum, you’ll understand.’
‘I thought you didn’t have any kids, Amanda.’ Jade’s as sharp as glass this afternoon.
I make the peace by hugging my daughter. ‘You have a lovely time this weekend.’
‘I’ll do my best. I have to travel from Brighton to London in a special car tomorrow. Luis’s on the team coach. I won’t see much of him all day. But we’ll make up for it tomorrow night.’
I stare at her and think about calling her a brazen hussy but I clamp my lips together and try to remember what it was like to be in love. I certainly don’t remember being so open about my sex life. I say, ‘That’s nice, love.’
Jade’s beaming. ‘Right. I’m going to get ready. I’ll take a taxi to the station. Luis’ll meet me at the other end. We’re going somewhere glamorous over the weekend so I’ll need clothes.’
She whirls away and Amanda rolls her eyes and murmurs, ‘Fair play. You can’t blame her for it. What a dazzling lifestyle.’
I nod. ‘What are you up to this weekend?’
She purses her lips. ‘Rhys and I are invited to an anniversary party in Blackpool tomorrow night, so I’ll need to shop for a new dress.’
I contemplate the weekend that I’ll spend by myself, a visit to Nanny Basham tonight and on Sunday, and I wonder what Bonnie’s up to, if she’s back from the spa hotel and if she’s happy. I push my salad sandwich away untouched and Amanda looks at me eagerly. I slide it onto her plate.
It’s Saturday morning, clean-up-the-house time, and I’m hoovering four floors for all I’m worth. I push the nozzle in all corners, my arms extended as if I’m part of the machine: I am Hoover Woman. I have the radio turned up loud, my hair knotted into a floppy scarf, and I’m wearing a baggy T-shirt, leggings and no shoes, singing at the top of my voice.