Bron found the address, tucked away between a pub and a primary school, without difficulty. Pat's directions had been perfect. Four women who needed their hair doing in a kitchen that may well be suitable for making Carrie's wedding cake, all arranged by Pat as promised. Bron was excited as she parked the car.
The house was delightful, she thought, as she started unloading her kit from the boot. She left one load on the doorstep and then went to get the rest of it. Someone had opened the door before she had a chance to ring.
‘You must be Bron,' said a pleasant-faced middle-aged woman with a bad perm. 'I'm Veronica. Let me give you a hand.' Veronica picked up Bron's tool kit. 'Do you mind doing it in the kitchen? There's plenty of space there.'
‘Not at all,' said Bron, thinking how much easier it would be for her to ask about borrowing it if she didn't have to ask to see it specially.
‘And you've got at least five clients. Pat said you wouldn't mind.'
‘Not at all,' she said again. 'I'll get a production line going. It would speed things up if people washed their own hair, though.' She was aware that people loved the therapeutic effect of having their hair washed by professional, massaging fingers, but without a back-wash, it sometimes involved a lot of water down the back of people's necks and it would mean the others had to wait longer.
‘Through here,' said Veronica, leading Bron to the most delightful room. It was large, sunny and overlooked an overflowing cottage garden. There was a long stainless steel counter along one wall with a four-oven range cooker and a double sink. Bron could see various other appliances and another washbasin but couldn't really look properly just now.
Four women were sitting at a table drinking coffee and eating biscuits although it was only nine o'clock. They all looked up when Bron came in. Pat, who was already there, got up and kissed her and introduced her to the other women.
‘We're turning Veronica's kitchen into a hairdressing salon,' she said. 'She's being very nice about it, and providing tea and biccies.'
‘I was just saying to her, I can get through you all a bit quicker if those of you just having a cut and a blow-dry could wash your own hair?' Bron smiled. 'I can do whoever's going first, of course. Veronica? That should be you, I think.’
A little while later, Veronica and Bron re-entered the kitchen. The four women at the table were talking all at once, and very excitedly.
‘We've been chatting!' said Pat. 'About Bron setting up her own business.'
‘Yes?' said Veronica.
‘Mm. We were just saying: good for her; going out, getting work, being her own boss,' Pat went on.
‘And then we wondered if we could do it,' said another. 'How do you find it, love?’
Bron considered. 'Well, it's very early days, but it's nice to work for yourself. If I got enough work not to have to worry about money, it'd be brilliant.’
The women exchanged glances. 'Well,' said the one Bron remembered may have been called Barbara, 'we don't have to worry about that. I mean, we already do a lot of catering for nothing,' she explained. 'Our children have all moved out and we've time on our hands. We'd do catering. It's what we're good at.'
‘Well,' said Veronica. 'You have been busy. Drawn up a business plan yet?'
‘No,' said Barbara, 'you can do that. You're on cakes. You've had the practice.’
Bron steered Veronica to a chair and changed her wet towel for a dry one and draped a gown round her. She could see that everyone was so enthused by their idea they might forget why they were there.
‘So I'm involved in this, am I?' said Veronica, while Bron gently pulled a brush through her hair.
‘Definitely,' said Pat. 'Why should young people do all the entrepreneuring? This would give us something to do outside the home, and I think parties would be fun.'
‘We wouldn't be guests,' said one of the women. 'We'd just be standing around holding trays.'
‘That would be the Aitch-Trot,' said another, sounding knowledgeable.
Everyone looked at her enquiringly.
‘I read it in the paper last Christmas. It means "handing things round on trays". It was Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall who said it.’
There was a collective swoon at the name. 'I love his programmes.'
‘And I like a man who knows what to do with a joint of beef,' said Veronica.
‘So do I,' said Pat, 'and I haven't got one.’
Bron thought there was a hint of belligerence about her ex-boyfriend's mother today and suddenly panicked in case her split with Roger had precipitated something between Pat and her awful husband. Pat seemed so much feistier away from him. Bron was pleased to see this side of Pat coming out more. She would have to encourage it further.
‘But you wouldn't want to break a new one in now, surely,' Bron said. 'After the years you've put in on Vince.'
‘Hmph.' Pat sounded dismissive. 'Didn't do me much good though, did it? But don't worry, I'm not planning on leaving him or anything drastic. But I am going to get this little business of ours going. You've been an inspiration to me, Bron.'
‘And us,' said another. 'Look at you, snipping away in Veronica's kitchen. You can take your skills anywhere, and so can we.’
Bron smiled at the woman, who currently had a very nice bob that needed a bit of a trim. If she became a regular client, Bron might suggest a few highlights, so that the balance of blonde to grey was better.
‘So what sort of events would we be doing?' asked Veronica, with her head on her chest, while Bron divided her hair into sections.
‘Everything: weddings, funerals, children's parties.'
‘Oh, not children's parties. I'm not organising games. I'm rubbish at all that stuff,' said the woman with the bob.
‘We wouldn't have to be there during the party. We'd just do the sandwiches-'
‘And make Peter Rabbit biscuits. I've still got my cutter. I used to pride myself on getting the blue just right.'
‘I used to love doing the food,' said one woman. 'It was the parties I hated. Same with adult ones, too.'
‘So this is perfect for us!' said Pat. 'We get to do the bits we like best.'
‘I can't do fancy cakes,' said Veronica, upright now, staring into the propped-up mirror. 'Well, I can do the cake bit but I can't do the icing.'
‘I can,' said Bron, feeling relaxed enough to put her penny's worth in. 'I've made some very fine trains in my time. If you need one, or anything complicated, you can ask me. And while we're on the subject…' She moved quickly on before her nerve could go. 'Veronica, Pat tells me this kitchen has been passed by Health and Safety.'
‘That's right.' Veronica obviously had her mind on her hair as she went on, 'I think maybe just a little off all round. I'm not in the mood for any major changes.'
‘Fine. I'll just kiss your hair with the scissors, you'll never know you've had it cut. Would it be possible for me to make a cake in here? It's a posh wedding cake.' She nearly added 'for a celebrity' because she knew they'd love the gossip, but managed to stop herself in time. 'I'd make sure I paid for every penny of gas and electricity, and of course, not use it if it's inconvenient for you.'
‘I don't know,' said Veronica. 'My husband might not like it.'
‘Husbands, ha!' said someone.
‘She's great at cleaning kitchens,' said Pat. 'I'm going to have to clear up mine myself on Sundays now.' She sighed. 'It's so sad. She used to leave it gleaming.'
‘No, well, Sasha didn't ever sweep up at the salon, either,' said Bron, wondering how she could persuade Veronica to let her use her kitchen. 'There, do you think that's enough? Shall I dry it now?'
‘That looks fine. Yes, please do, dear. Maybe next time I'll let you take a bit more off.’
As Bron got through her clients, their enthusiasm for their new project grew. Veronica, looking very elegant now, sat at the table with a big pad of paper, writing down ideas.
‘What we want are a few events where we know people, so it doesn't matter if we make a few mistakes,' said Veronica. 'Just to begin with.'
‘What shall we call ourselves?' said Pat. 'We need to get some cards printed.'
‘What about the Catering Ladies?' suggested the woman whose locks were in Bron's tender care at the time.
‘It's straightforward,' said Veronica, 'but is it a bit boring?'
‘No, I think it sounds fun,' put in Bron. 'It sounds as if you're a team of strong women, determined to make things happen.'
‘Well, we are!' they chorused.
‘Shall I put on the kettle so we can celebrate?' suggested Veronica.
‘You can get cards done very easily,' said Pat. 'Let's decide what to put on them.'
‘But no professional dos until we've had a bit of time to practise,' said Veronica. 'We'll do things for nothing except the cost of the ingredients until we've got a few under our belt.’
Bron thought for a moment as she ran the dryer over her last client's hair. 'Urn, I might have a wedding you could do on those terms,' she said. 'A friend of mine's sister is getting married and they've got hardly any money. I'm sure they'd be thrilled if you could do the food for just the food, if you know what I mean.' She was aware Sarah had been worrying what to do about the catering for Lily's reception and as far as she knew she hadn't found anyone yet.
‘What sort of food would they want?' asked Veronica. 'No idea. Would you like me to ring my friend?'
‘When you've finished me,' said Bron's last client. 'If my hair dries naturally it goes all spiky.'
‘Spiky is cool,' said Bron, 'but I won't let you be spiky if you don't want to be.’
When all the hair was done and everyone satisfied it was lunchtime. Veronica, a natural caterer, produced some sandwiches, little quiches and salads she'd made in advance. Bron accepted a quiche and got out her phone.
Sarah took a while to pick up which gave Bron time to finish her mouthful and realise that the pastry was delicious. 'Sarah? Where are you? You sound very faint.'
‘I'm carrying rather a lot of wedding dresses,' said Sarah. 'From a charity shop. For my sister to try on. Hang on, let me just put these in the car…' There was a clunk and the sound of rustling and then Sarah was back on the phone. 'Right, I'm all yours.'
‘It's about Lily I'm ringing,' said Bron. 'What sort of food does she want at her reception? I've got a wonderful team of women here who'll do the food for you.'
‘Oh, who are they? I'm bound to have heard of them.’
‘Um – well, you won't have, because they're a brand-new business.'
‘Brand-new? Oh, Bron, I don't like to use people I don't know. Lily's future mother-in-law is being very definite about how she wants everything.'
‘I can guarantee they're fantastic cooks. I've just eaten the most delicious quiche. Melt-in-the-mouth pastry.' Everyone in the room was looking at her and she crossed her fingers, sensing they saw this as an omen. If they got this job their business would be on a roll. 'Even better, they'll do it for the cost of the food, no labour, because they're new.'
‘Really?' Sarah suddenly became a great deal more enthusiastic. 'That would save a fair bit. Who did you say they were?'
‘The Catering Ladies. They've just formed. It would be a good idea to book them now before someone else snaps up the opportunity.'
‘Oh well, if you tell me they're really good. I should imagine Dirk's mother will want a buffet.'
‘Not an Aitch-Trot?'
‘Sorry? I didn't quite catch that.'
‘Never mind.'
‘Why don't you come over to Elsa's at about seven? She's going to help sort Lily out with a dress. You can bring me sample menus and things, if you've got them.'
‘Fine!’
Bron disconnected and looked at her rapt audience. 'Can you produce me some sample menus for a buffet before five tonight? If so, you've got a job.'
‘Fantastic! Of course we can,' said Veronica.
`So can I borrow your kitchen for the cake?'
‘You've got us our first commission; of course you can.’