Sisteria Read Free Page B

he was now wearing two socks on one foot. ‘I was reading in The Sunday Times Style section a few weeks ago that toupees have really taken off in New York. I just know it will only be a matter of time before they start to catch on here too. I think by getting in on the ground floor of a trend, we could be sitting on a gold mine. I mean it, this could be the end of all our money worries. I don’t know how I did it, but I managed to convince old McGillicuddy at the bank to extend the overdraft on the business account by a few grand. Said I could keep it going for six months if I wanted. So now I’ve got ten gross best-quality micro-fibre Korean toupees in the stockroom waiting to go. I thought I’d start by seeing how they do in the shop, and if - I mean when - they take off, I’ll start flogging them by mail order. They’re the future, Beverley. I just know it.’
    â€˜OK, so when you say a few grand,’ she said, trying to sound casual, ‘what are we talking? Two? Three?’
    â€˜Five,’ he blurted.
    â€˜Five,’ she gasped. ‘But Mel, you already owe nearly fifteen. I hope to God you know what you’re doing. Sweetheart, please don’t take this the wrong way, but your track record isn’t exactly...’
    â€˜Shh,’ he said, gently placing a finger over her lips and smiling. ‘Trust me. It’s in the bag. A few months from now everything’s gonna be peachy, Bev. Absolutely peachy.’
    With that he gave a decidedly doubtful Beverley a peck on the cheek and was gone. Seconds later she heard the front door slam. A few seconds after that, she heard it open again.
    â€˜Forgot my shoes,’ Melvin called from the hall. She heard him charge upstairs, charge down again and leave the house for the second time.
    As Beverley sat herself back down at the breakfast bar, she listened to the car pulling off the drive and shook her head. ‘Toupees,’ she said out loud. ‘So now it’s toupees.’ On the other hand, what did she know? Maybe for once in his life Melvin had hit on something - found not so much a gap in the market as a bald patch. Certainly Mr McGillicuddy thought so.
    ***

    â€˜These were on the mat. More of the usual, I see.’ Beverley looked up to see her mother coming into the kitchen. Queenie Gold was an inch or two shorter than she’d been in her prime and limped slightly as a result of an only partially successful hip replacement operation. But people meeting her for the first time were never in any doubt that looks-wise she’d most definitely had a prime. Even in her mid seventies she possessed a smooth, milky complexion, and her pretty almond-shaped eyes, which Beverley and Natalie had inherited, were, despite their fleshy hoods, still a brilliant blue.
    Queenie took the hate mail from the pocket of her long sleeveless cardigan and handed it to her daughter. Beverley said nothing. Clearly Melvin had either failed to notice them on his way out or had taken fright and ignored them on purpose. She’d open them later when her mother wasn’t looking over her shoulder.
    â€˜So,’ Beverley said in an effort to deflect the lecture she knew was coming, ‘how’s your hip this morning?’
    â€˜Fine. It’s not my hip I’m worried about. It’s you and Melvin.’ Queenie heaved herself on to the stool next to Beverley.
    â€˜Oh, God. Here we go again,’ Beverley said under her breath. She reached across the worktop for last night’s Evening Standard and pretended to read it.
    â€˜Of course, even twenty years ago I knew Melvin would never amount to anything,’ Queenie continued, while Beverley mouthed her mother’s words from inside the newspaper. ‘I’ll never forget the day the pair of you got married. When I saw Melvin turn up at the synagogue in jeans and that tie-dyed granddad vest covered in CND badges, I wept from the humiliation of it all.