The woman collapsed onto the chair with a grateful sigh, tucking her shopping bags to one side. She closed her eyes for a moment, rubbing circles on the skin of her temples. Not waiting to be asked, Isla fetched a cup of tea from the pot Jinny had just made a few moments ago. ‘Oh, thanks, hen,’ Netty looked up with a smile. ‘You read my mind.’ ‘All part of the service.’ Isla returned to the desk. The salon was quiet this morning, probably because the sunshine was pulling the usual pop-in clients away from their day-to-day routine. Everyone seemed to be out in their gardens, making the most of what had so far been a pretty dull, grey start to the summer – which was unusual, everyone kept telling her. Jinny was busying herself with a stock-check of supplies, planning to make an order. Isla, meanwhile, was attempting to make the computer booking system as simple as possible, in the hope that when Aunty Jessie returned she might make use of it, rather than ignoring it and scribbling everything down in pencil in the scruffy-looking diary that sat on the reception desk.
