Come Through

As Ellie left the bookshop she noticed Mr Horden follow her to the door and take down the scrap of paper he had taped to the glass seeking help in the shop. She wandered over to Justine’s to see if Aaron and Candy were busy. They had all been a bit of a gang at school but Candy left school at the end of year 10 and after a stint punching the cash-register at the IGA Store near the War Memorial, she persuaded Justine to take her on doing nails. Aaron had left a year ago, before he finished Year 11, but he had a real job to go for – an apprenticeship as a hairdresser.

It was probably a good thing for Aaron to get away from school. It can be tough in school when you’re different, and Aaron was different. He didn’t do sport. He wasn’t all that blokey, really, and the boys really gave him a hard time. The school had policies about bullying and homophobia, but that didn’t stop Aaron copping it. His move into the worker world had put an end to most of all that.

“Hi guys” said Ellie as she poked her head in the door to see what was going down.

“Hi Ellie,” called out Justine, her hands entangled in a customer’s hair as she washed it. “What have you been up to?”

“I just got a job, I think.”

“What do you mean ‘I think’?”

“Well, I saw a sign in the bookshop window and when Mr Horden came out he told me it was easy and that I could have the job. Just like that! He didn’t even ask my name.”

“Well goon on you, Sweetie. Any job’s a good job in this town. When does he want you to start?”

“I could have started right now, but I thought I had better think about it a bit and talk to Mum and Dad about it. So I said I had a few things to do and asked if I could start tomorrow. He was great about it.”

“That’ll be great” squealed Candy. “We can do lunch together and have coffees. What are the hours going to be?”

“Mr Horden suggested I start at 10. How good is that? I always dreaded my first job having to get up with the birds every morning, just like school. This will be so much better. I might even be awake when I have to start work. And I get to knock off at 4 – plenty of time to muck around after work during the holidays.”

Justine mused “Sounds like it is just what you need for your Gap Year. I hope it works really well for you.”

Justine had established her first salon 20 years ago. She had worked for a salon during her apprenticeship and for four years after that during which time she got married and had her first child. When her second came along she stopped work for four or five years and then started a small salon in the southern burbs of Perth. She really liked it and had a good business.

Her husband, Mike, lost his job with a big firm and they decided to sell up and move to a quieter place and Quarabup fitted the bill. Houses were much cheaper than in Perth, there was plenty of farm-related handyman work for Mike – didn’t pay well, but he enjoyed it – and Justine got a good price for her salon and was able to buy in to one in Quarabup. When the previous owner retired and sold out her share, Justine renamed the business as her own. In 15 years in the village she had given a dozen kids their apprenticeships in hair dressing. Because there was no TAFE College in town she did much more of the hands-on training of them, which they liked. The kids could bus to nearby Williamstown twice a term for a week of TAFE classes. That got them through.

“Are you going to The Rock on Friday?” Candice wouldn’t miss the weekly grind at the local night club – The Eagle Rock – affectionately referred to as “The Rock”. Four or five local garage bands seemed to rotate the weekends to keep the club going in between occasional visits from city bands. Most of the parents of kids at the high school remember the time Billy Thorpe came to town with the Aztecs to headline the “Hoadley’s Battle of the Sounds” heats for the Great Southern. The Eagle Rock has been trying to reach those heights again, but the best they can do is a national band once every couple of years.

Ellie wanted to go, but she checked “Who’s going?” If Casey Hargreaves and her mates were there, she would probably give it a miss.

Candice thought for a bit. “I reckon Trent and Amy will be there as well as our usual mob. I don’t know about Hargreaves. We can just ignore her.”

“Okay, then. Are you coming Aaron?”

“Yep! That’d be good.”

“See you then.”

Ellie wheeled round and made her way back into the arcade, wandering off in the direction of the bus stop. Ellie was a bit of a surf bunny in summer – no particular boy in mind – but she did enjoy a bit of eye-candy on the back beach, if the surf was cooking.

“I hope you guys keep away from that Sanderson gang at The Rock. They’re not good company.” Justine was not their mother. They were not her children. But she cared about them, and didn’t want them to complicate their lives by mixing with the wrong crowd. Drugs are nobody’s friend – and the stupid fighting that often went with it was so mindless.

“Everyone keeps out of their way,” said Aaron. “Well not everyone, ‘cos they have to sell the stuff to someone. But it’s not worth it. Once you buy one lot of stuff from them they keep at you to buy more. One of the guys in our street got caught up with them and he just went from bad to worse after that, and now he’s in juvie. And none of them ever seem to get busted! But everyone knows what they do. I don’t know why the coppers don’t just close them down; a least that’s what my dad says.”

“Good for you Aaron. I know it seems like its only fun, sometimes, to take risks like that but there’s nearly always consequences – consequences you don’t want.” Justine turned her attention to the head of hair in front of her and began cutting.

Tash started late on Thursdays and covered the late-night shopping crowd till 9. She always breezed in with a take-way coffee. It didn’t matter if it was the early starts on the other days of the week or on Thursdays – the start of work was always acknowledged with an infusion of caffeine.

As she came in today she found her first client waiting already, even though Tash was 15 minutes early. “I’ll be with you in a minute,” she said as she breezed by, heading for the staff alcove at the rear. Tash liked her Thursday “lates” because it gave her half a day without the kids. Her three little kids demanded her constant attention when they were not at school. They were on a cruise of a life-time (theirs) and Mum was the Entertainment Officer. So on Thursdays, she could usher them off to school, and often just laze about a bit till it was time to go to work. Sometimes she did some shopping, sometimes she even got the sewing machine out and made a new top.

After sipping the best half of her coffee she breezed out of the little nook saying “Come through!” Her client rose from her chair, Marie Claire magazine in hand, and came over to the chair. “What are we having today?”

“The colour is growing out. Can you do the roots for me? And then just a trim.” A straightforward job, then, thought Tash. She went to the file for her colour details and collected the things she would need. She mixed the potions together and started to clip up her hair to get started.

“I hear the Shire is wanting to change the zoning out your way to make way for that canal development.” Tash’s client was a third generation resident of the village and lived in what had been the family’s big house down by the river. Their original ten acres had been split in half years ago, but the access to the canal development was proposed to go right between the two blocks.

“Spandos International reckons their developments will treble the value of our place and we oughta be grateful. Huh! What do they know? What good is that if we don’t want to sell? And we don’t want those canals filled with stink boats.”

Well that was nailing her colours to the mast.

While Quarabup was affectionately referred to as “Sleepy Hollow” the recent visitation of big-business developers had livened up the local politics. Most locals did not trust these outsiders. They wanted to come in and change everything without any respect. And they would do whatever it took to get their way.

Sam Malone had welcomed them with open arms. He dined them at the best restaurants with the best local wines and all on the ratepayer’s ticket. He walked around town with such a wide smile these days that everyone believed he had been made offers he could not refuse to ensure the shire made the amendments to the planning scheme that were necessary. What a conflict of interest he had, but no-one on Council dared to challenge him – not yet, anyway. There he was Shire President, Principal of the leading Real Estate firm in the Village and getting up close and pally with the big boys from out of town. The local newspaper had never had it so easy to get good copy from Council Meetings.

Tash kept on dabbing the fresh colour in with her brush.