‘You like it?’ he asked, catching her eye in the mirror. ‘Like I said, this look is hot, hot, hot in Holland.’
Well it could fecking well stay in Holland, Roisin thought, looking to her sister and Leila who were looking back at her, eyes wide with alarm.
Um, perhaps we could have something a little more traditional?’ Aisling asked upon seeing her bridesmaids. ‘Something a little more...' she tried to find the word she was looking for but Moira jumped in for her.
‘Something more human and less insect-like would be good.’
Chapter 14
MAUREEN WAS THE FIRST out of the doors of Hair She Goes and she announced to Aisling, Roisin, Moira and Leila who followed that she would head home from there. ‘I’ve a dog who’ll be desperate to see me and he’ll need a walk before we paint the town red.’
‘But your curls will drop in the damp sea air, Mammy,’ Aisling pointed out.
‘I thought of that, Aisling, I’ll wear a headscarf.’
‘And will you show everyone you pass on your walk your wartime ration card, Mammy.’ Moira said.
‘Don’t be clever with me, young lady. And if you’d paid attention in your history classes at school, you’d know Ireland was neutral in the war. Besides, it wasn’t me who was after looking like she belonged on a twig in the Amazonian rain forest.’
Moira couldn’t think of a comeback because Mammy was right. At least middle ground had been reached and the antennae were no more. They were all relatively happy with the outcome, especially Aisling, which was the main thing, Leila had pointed out once the stylists had stepped back to admire their handiwork.
Roisin rubbed her scalp, Sten had been unnecessarily firm with the pulling of her hair and placement of bobby pins once he’d learned she had a boyfriend and there would be no riding happening once the salon closed. She, for one, was glad to be out of there.
Arrangements were made for Mammy and Leila to be back at O’Mara’s later that evening for drinks, hen party games and, what Moira promised would be plenty of craic, before the limousine came to pick them up and take them out on the town. With that, the bride and her two sisters made their way back to the guesthouse.
The trio piled in through the door, giggling, a short while later. ‘What’s so funny?’ James asked looking wary. The student manned the front desk on a weekend during the day while Evie, a fellow student, did the evening shift. She’d be on board in forty minutes at four pm. He wished it was four o’clock now. Giggling groups of women like this made him nervous.
‘What do you think of our hair, James?’ Moira asked, patting hers.
‘You all look the same.’ He’d yet to grasp that women preferred more flowery nuances.
‘That’s the idea,’ Roisin said. ‘We’ve been for a trial run at the hairdressers for Aisling’s wedding.’
‘Oh right.’ James looked down at the fax he’d taken off the machine, studying it as though it might explain the workings of the female mind. He got the feeling a compliment of some sort was in order so he dug deep and came up with. ‘Well, you all look grand.’
‘Thank you, James,’ Moira said, sensing it was as good as they were going to get. She led the way toward the stairs but before she got there, she spied the guests from room eight sitting in the guest lounge. Mr and Mrs Dunbar had arrived for a long weekend in the fair city yesterday morning for no reason other than they’d always fancied exploring Dublin. They were a chatty couple with broad Scottish accents who said things like dinnae and laddie and lassie a lot. They hailed from a village near Edinburgh and Moira had whiled away a good half hour talking with them while she herded Aisling and Bronagh up and down the stairs yesterday morning. They’d said their goodbyes when Bronagh, red in the face, had threatened Moira with bodily harm if she made her do it again. ‘Hello again, Mr and Mrs Dunbar.’ She paused to smile at the older couple although Mr Dunbar was oblivious given he’d nodded off in the wingback chair. The hairs of his bushy moustache were blowing with each little snore she noticed as Mrs Dunbar waved over, a cup of tea in her hand.
‘Hullo, Moira. We’re not long back from doing the hop-on hop-off bus tour and now we’re enjoying a well-earned cup of tea, or at least I am. We’ve been on the go all day and we’re dead on our feet.’ She gestured toward her husband. ‘As you can see.’ The sweet-faced woman with faded red hair that curled at her chin smiled at the small group gathered in the doorway. ‘Did I overhear you lassies telling the wee laddie on the front desk you’d been having your hair done as a trial run for a wedding?’
‘Yes, it’s my wedding, Mrs Dunbar,’ Aisling said, pushing past Moira into the lounge. She wanted to go and see Quinn but she always had time to chat with their guests.
‘Call me Maggie,
