The Jade Garden (The Barrington Patch Book 2) by Emmy Ellis (reading diary txt) 📗

go back in there before Doreen gets suspicious.” She sounded relieved the conversation might come to an end.

Doreen scuttled away from the door and plopped into the armchair, leaning her head back and closing her eyes, feigning forty winks. The kitchen door creaked, and the shush of footsteps came closer, then the humph of air as the women sat on the sofa.

“Didn’t you get much kip last night, Doreen?” Karen asked. “You can always go home, you know. The Life will survive without you, like it has for years.”

She’s always got to get a dig in. Doreen opened her eyes, acting well out of it. “Eh?”

“Go home, Dor.” Sharon smiled. “You’re done in.”

With the perfect excuse to leave without it looking off, Doreen pushed up and nodded. “I reckon you’re right. It was the clonking of that removal van that did it. Brett must have done a midnight flit.”

“Moonlight,” Karen corrected.

“Yeah, one of them an’ all.” Doreen hung her bag in the crook of her elbow and left them to it, waiting until she’d got to the end of the road and around the corner, then she took her work burner out. What was it Cassie had told her to say if it was a life-or-death situation? Bloody hell, she couldn’t remember. She prodded the screen.

Doreen: Massive problem.

Cassie: How massive? I’m having my hair done at Cheryl’s.

Doreen: Kill you massive.

Cassie: Fucking hell. Come to the salon. We’ll talk there. And don’t say shit like this in messages again.

Doreen: You should use that WhatsApp thing. My Harry says it’s encrypted.

Cassie: Not a bad call. Now get down here, no pissing about along the way.

Doreen stuffed her phone into her bag and rushed on, keen to get the news out of her head and into Cassie’s. Karen had more than a few marbles loose, but it seemed Sharon had held on to hers. Doreen would let Cassie know it was all Karen’s doing and Sharon didn’t want owt to do with it. She’d never really liked that Karen anyroad.

Years ago, when they’d run the Barrington—if you could call running it knocking on doors and threatening to punch someone if they nicked so-and-so’s flowers from their garden again—she’d got Doreen’s back up. Accused her of shagging one of Karen’s current flames, some hairy fucker who didn’t know what a bath was. Well, Doreen had assured her she didn’t want owt to do with that particular man on account of his bad breath and manky hair, and Karen could keep him, thank you very much.

“Are you saying my taste in men is bad?” Karen had raised a fist.

“So what if I am?” Doreen had quaked a bit, as you do in your twenties when you’re unsure of yourself and don’t know how far to push someone. “What are you going to do about it?”

Karen had slapped her one around the face, and the sting of it brought tears to Doreen’s eyes. Doreen had punched her in the nose, and the scrap that ensued had many a resident coming out into their gardens for a front-row gander. In the end, Doreen had come off worse, some of her hair pulled out, her scalp screaming blue murder, a black eye, and a split lip. Karen had also sported war wounds, her nose ballooning and bleeding, wider than its usual fat self. Well, guess who’d be coming off worse this time?

Not me.

Doreen chuckled and turned into the street where the hairdresser’s was. It stood on the right-hand side of The Donny, The Pudding on the left, and she contemplated nipping in the pub for an early lunch after she’d seen Cassie—sod the noodle soup. Geoff would sort her a bacon sandwich with a side of cheesy chips if she asked nicely, he was good like that. Then again, if Cassie had been in there prior to getting her hair done and told him about Brett legging it, Geoff might not be in a very good mood if he’d had to cough up the rent money.

She’d judge it when the time came. For now, she had her new boss to contend with.

Doreen pushed the door open, the bell above seeming to giggle, and the scent of hairspray, dyes, and all manner of hairdo gubbins drifted up her nose. Cassie paid her five hundred a week to spy on Karen and Sharon, and she could afford to get her hair done here now instead of her inexperienced neighbour dropping by to do it. Why hadn’t she thought of that before?

Cassie nodded at her from a chair where Cheryl was finishing putting a permanent wave in, taking the wide rollers out. The look Cassie gave was one that said: Not yet. Doreen nodded back and approached the little reception desk.

“Got any emergency appointments, duck?” she asked Michaela, a nice sort, the youngest granddaughter of a woman Doreen had gone to school with.

Michaela checked the ledger. “Fiona’s free.” She glanced across at the stylist. “Twiddling her thumbs, see?”

Luck was with Doreen today. “That’s grand. Sign me up.”

It didn’t take Fiona long to get her looking marvellous, a nice new dye (less brassy), then a cut and blow-dry working wonders on not only how she appeared but how she felt an’ all. Harry would think it was his birthday when he turned up later. While Fiona had been doing her magic, Doreen had made plans to dress up, put a bit of slap on, and take Harry out for a meal—not in The Donny but one of those fancy places in town. She might even splash out on a new dress, too. There were plenty of nice ones on the market.

Cassie was finished at the same time, and she was right pretty with wavy hair. They waited at the desk to pay, and Doreen brought her purse out.

Cassie rested a hand on her