Those Other Women Read online

  A younger apprentice came over to do her hand massage while she waited for Wendy to come back with the colour.

  When Wendy returned, Poppy nervously cleared her throat and asked carefully, ‘Sorry . . . which colour did we land on?’

  Wendy winked at her in the mirror. ‘Trust me,’ she said, ‘you’ll love it.’

  For most of the colouring process, Wendy worked in comfortable silence, her face filled with concentration as she painted on the colour and wrapped sections of Poppy’s hair up in foils. But just as she was finishing, she let out a sudden sob that made Poppy jump.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  Wendy bit her lip and looked embarrassed. She piled the last section of coloured hair on top of Poppy’s head, peeled off her gloves and set a timer. Then she pulled a spare chair across and sat down next to her.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, and her voice choked up for a second. Poppy waited.

  ‘It’s really stupid,’ Wendy continued, ‘I shouldn’t be letting it get to me – it’s one of those things that keeps running around and around in your mind though.’ A tear escaped and she wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. ‘You don’t need to hear about it. It’s totally inappropriate for me to be acting like this with a client.’ She stood up ready to move away, but Poppy caught her arm.

  ‘I can listen. If you want to talk.’

  Wendy sat back down quickly, as though that was exactly what she’d been hoping for.

  ‘It’s this group I’m in,’ she explained. ‘An online mum’s group.’

  Poppy’s chest tightened. ‘MOP?’

  ‘Yes! Are you a member?’ she asked hopefully.

  ‘No.’ Poppy decided not to elaborate on why.

  ‘Well, I only joined recently,’ Wendy continued. ‘I have a two-year-old and someone told me it was a great place for new mums to get advice and meet other local mums, and I didn’t have a mothers’ group because I only moved here recently from overseas. Plus . . .’ She paused, looking like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to say the next bit. Poppy gave her what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

  ‘Plus, I’ve been dealing with . . . post-natal depression. So pushing myself to get out of the house, to go and make friends . . . it’s been difficult.’

  Poppy nodded and stayed quiet to let her continue.

  ‘So at first it seemed really nice, but then the moderators of the group put up this warning notice about this other group – this non-mums group that was supposed to be full of women who hated everyone in MOP. And I was all like, oh okay, whatever, that doesn’t really affect me, does it? But then I got invited to take my son out on a playdate with a few other mums I’d been chatting with on MOP. We went to this cafe here in the centre – the Pear and Fig – I don’t know if you know it? I don’t think it was a good choice to be honest. Not really enough room for all our prams and a bit too cool or trendy or whatever for a group of babies and toddlers to be crawling about the place. I had my little boy sitting on my lap, and I was talking with the other mums and I wasn’t paying attention to what he was doing, and next thing I look down and realise he’s opened, like, eight sugar packets and tipped them everywhere.’

  Poppy’s stomach dropped. She already knew this story.

  ‘I was about to start cleaning all the sugar up,’ Wendy continued, ‘and one of the other mums starts laughing and saying how cute Henry is – that’s my son – and next thing, I realise these three women at another table – no kids – are staring. They’re all shaking their heads at me in this real judgemental way like I’m the worst mum in the world for letting him do that. One of them gets up and walks over to us. “Let me guess,” she says, “A little MOP gathering is it?” And then she goes on about how us mums always think we own the place and we can do whatever we want and she says she knows the owner and she’s going to get kids banned from the place because all they do is make a mess and ruin everything, and apparently, my kid opening sugar packets was the last straw!’

  Wendy paused and shook her head. ‘Sorry, you probably think I’m insane, like why am I all teary over this, right? But it’s just that this was the first group of mums I’d met since I moved here and now I feel too embarrassed to see them again, ’cause they’ll probably think I’m a terrible mum for letting my kid do that, and ’cause I’ve single-handedly gotten us banned from the Pear and Fig, and it’s all so stupid because it’s over something like a buck-fifty worth of sugar or whatever, and the most humiliating part is . . . I took off. As soon as it all happened I was just so taken aback by the way this woman was talking to me that I just . . . I just left. So even if those mums didn’t care about Henry tipping the sugar everywhere or the cafe banning us or whatever, they aren’t going to want to hang out with me again because they must think I’m a basket case.’

  ‘Oh God, that sounds horrible. But . . . how do you know this has anything to do with the online group of non-mums?’ Poppy asked, even though she knew full well it had everything to do with NOP.

  ‘The woman told us they were members of NOP and that they were done putting up with our shit.’

  Poppy cringed inwardly and felt a sense of self-loathing.

  She hesitated, trying to decide the right thing to say, but Wendy suddenly stood up. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have been dumping all of this on you. Anyway, your colour’s got to stay on for another thirty minutes, you’ve got some magazines there to take a look at, and I’m just going to leave you to it.’

  With that, Wendy hurried away and disappeared out the back of the shop. Poppy sighed. She picked up one of the magazines and flicked idly through the pages, not taking in any of the pictures or stories in front of her, but instead thinking hard about what she might be able to do to help Wendy.

  As she turned the pages, an idea began to form. What if she popped down to the Pear and Fig herself to ask them if they really did have an issue with what Wendy’s kid had done? Just because the NOP woman had claimed she’d be able to have children banned, didn’t mean she’d managed to actually follow through. Hopefully Poppy would be able to reassure Wendy that it wasn’t all as bad as she’d thought.

  Poppy hopped up from her chair and strode out of the salon. She’d never in her life walked out of the hairdresser with foils in her hair and a cape over her clothes. She knew plenty of women did – to go to the bathroom or maybe order a coffee – but she’d always preferred to stay hidden until she was completely done. Today, she didn’t care. She was angry with herself for causing this woman so much hurt and she wanted to fix it. All of it.

  She knew she must have looked a state when she burst into the cafe, cape flying, hair sticking up. She asked for the manager and explained Wendy’s story.

  ‘Are you kidding me?’ he responded when she was done. ‘We have absolutely no intention of banning mums and I couldn’t care less about a few packets of sugar. Look,’ he added, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially to Poppy, ‘I know the women you’re talking about, the ones who made a fuss about that group of mums last week. Yes, one of them is an old friend, but she doesn’t speak for me. They like to think this place is their corporate hang but the truth is, mothers’ groups make up sixty percent of my business. Trust me, you’ll never see the day that we start turning away parents. So, if that mother is a friend of yours, you can tell her from me, she’s welcome back here any time.’

  Poppy was thrilled. That was the best response she could have hoped for. She couldn’t wait to reassure Wendy. She returned to the salon and took her seat, picking up one of the magazines again to pass the time until Wendy returned.

  By the time she reappeared – a good five minutes after the timer had buzzed, Poppy hoped her colour hadn’t been left on too long – Poppy was practically bursting to tell Wendy what she’d done.

  She was stopped short, however, by the expression on Wendy’s face as she strode up and looked down at the back of Poppy’s head. She wasn’t upset again, and she wasn’t smiling either. Instead her face was scowling.

  ‘Time to t
ake these out,’ she said, her voice clipped. She tugged roughly on one of the foils, pulling Poppy’s hair hard as she removed it. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘colour’s ready. Over to the basin.’ She stood back and pointed, her words more a command than an invitation.

  Poppy stood up hesitantly. ‘Umm, Wendy,’ she said carefully, ‘is there something wrong?’

  Wendy glared back at her. ‘No,’ she replied. ‘Nothing at all. Could you hurry, please? I have other clients I need to get to after you.’

  Poppy was stung. What could have happened since Wendy had left her to make her turn so completely? She made her way obediently over to the basins and took a seat at the first one.

  ‘Not that one!’ Wendy snapped. ‘The next one over.’

  Throughout the entire wash it was more of the same. Wendy tugged and pulled at Poppy’s hair as she ripped out one foil after another and Poppy was too shocked to speak up about how much she was hurting her. When she rinsed out the colour the water was too hot and she skipped the conditioning head massage altogether.

  Poppy was almost in tears, wondering what she could have possibly done wrong, by the time they returned back to her spot in front of the mirror.

  ‘How do you want it cut?’ Wendy asked, a nasty glint in her eye as she picked up the scissors.

  ‘Wendy, really, could you please tell me what I’ve done wrong?’

  ‘You know what, if you really want to know, then sure, I’ll tell you. While I was out the back I was chatting with one of the girls – the one who was feeling sick – and guess what? Turns out she knows you. So we’re chatting away and then she tells me that you happen to be the founder of NOP. Isn’t that interesting? Bet you were having a good laugh to yourself as I told you how much those women had hurt me – all along you were one of them.’

  ‘What? No! That’s not it —’

  Poppy was cut short though, as Wendy grabbed a handful of her hair and hacked it away. It was too much. Poppy wrenched her head out of her reach. ‘Hey! No!’

  Her raised voice caught the attention of another stylist who hurried over to see what was happening. As soon as she saw the back of Poppy’s head, she gasped.

  ‘Oh God,’ said Poppy, ‘what does it look like back there?’

  ‘Umm,’ said the stylist. ‘Just give me one minute.’ She pulled Wendy away by the elbow and after a few tense words, Wendy vanished out the back and the new stylist returned to Poppy.

  ‘I am so sorry about this. I’m Sonya, the manager here, and I promise you, I’m going to fix this.’

  It took the best part of an hour, but eventually Sonya was all done. She comped the service to make up for Wendy’s treatment, and while Poppy’s hair was the shortest and darkest it had ever been, she had to admit, Sonya had done an amazing job salvaging it.

  She just wasn’t sure she really deserved it.

  CHAPTER 17

  ‘She waits too long before making a move. She’s going to need to make her decisions a lot faster in the game,’ Annalise said, jogging lightly on the spot to warm up her legs.

  ‘I know, it’s driving me crazy. Last time Jen went in goals for that half-game she did a great job. But for some reason tonight she seems way more nervous.’

  Poppy turned away; she didn’t want to watch anymore. It was their first game back after the two-week hiatus due to a bye followed by a forfeit, and their match was due to start in twenty minutes. Elle was coaching Jen who was going into goals. Poppy tentatively touched the scab that had formed on her left hand. Maybe I could manage . . .

  ‘I know what you’re thinking.’ Annalise raised her eyebrows at Poppy. ‘You can’t. The doc said it would need longer than this. Why don’t you go over and give Jen some tips?’

  ‘I tried. Elle’s still too pissed with me. She sent me away with a single look. Woman is fierce.’

  ‘I’m fiercer,’ Annalise said.

  ‘All good, I should be warming up anyway. I’m still not used to all the running, much prefer staying inside my little box.’

  ‘Come on, we’ll do a lap of the pitch together.’

  They took off at a light jog. Annalise was wearing the same Macquarie Uni jumper again and Poppy wondered if she should try to broach the subject of the gaps in her resume with her. She didn’t know how to begin though, so instead she decided to tell her about the incident at the hairdresser. Annalise had already complimented her on the new hair and praised her for being bold by going so short. But Poppy hadn’t mentioned Wendy yet.

  ‘So I saw firsthand the results of a NOP/MOP altercation out in the real world the other day,’ she said as they ran.

  ‘Oh yeah? What happened?’

  She began to outline the story for Annalise, sticking to the important details because she was running out of breath. By the time they’d finished their lap and they stopped by their gear to stretch, Poppy had just got up to the part where she’d stuck up for Wendy at the cafe and was about to get to the good bit – returning to the salon only to find that Wendy had turned on her – when Annalise interrupted.

  ‘So you took her side?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, it’s not really about sides, is it? It’s not a primary-school fight. She was upset and I helped her out.’ Poppy lifted one foot to her backside to stretch her quads, resting her hand on Annalise’s shoulder for balance. ‘But anyway, that’s not the point,’ she said.

  Once again, Annalise interrupted her. ‘Helped her out by having a go at the NOP girls who’d “upset” her?’

  Poppy could feel Annalise’s shoulder tighten underneath her hand. ‘I didn’t have a go at them,’ she said.

  ‘No, I don’t mean directly. I mean behind their backs. You were like, bad-mouthing them to this hairdresser chick, right?’

  ‘I didn’t agree with what they’d done.’ Poppy swapped legs and this time she balanced on her own.

  ‘Why not?’ Annalise was reaching down to stretch her calf muscles. ‘I mean, isn’t that what NOP was supposed to be about in the first place? Women like us taking the world back from all those mummies who think they own it and have the right to do whatever they want?’

  ‘No. Not exactly. It was about connecting women like us, not warring with mothers.’ Poppy stopped stretching and put her hands on her hips, watching Annalise, waiting for her to lift her face so she could read her expression. ‘You know how I feel about the way the group has turned since I put up that stupid drunken post.’

  ‘Yeah, I know how you feel, I’m just not sure I agree with it. I mean the whole reason we needed our own place was because mums like that were driving us crazy – noisy kids in restaurants; kids like the one whatsername mentioned on NOP recently, the one that threw up on her shoes and the mum didn’t give a shit. Or the mum who changed her baby’s nappy on a fricken table in a cafe.’ Annalise straightened and stared at Poppy now. Her face was hard and angry. Poppy hadn’t seen that expression before – not directed at her though.

  ‘Yeah, I guess,’ Poppy said slowly, carefully, ‘but only to a point. I mean, yes, we wanted to be able to whinge and bitch about crap like that, but we weren’t supposed to start confronting them.’

  ‘Why the hell not?’

  ‘So you think a woman deserves to be confronted just because her kid tips some sugar on a table?’

  ‘Yes, I do! Because even though a little bit of sugar might not seem like a big deal, it’s representative of something bigger. It’s representative of a whole society of women who think they can get away with whatever they want because they’re the all-holy untouchables. They’re mothers.’

  ‘Annalise, I’m sorry, but that’s not why I created NOP.’

  ‘We created NOP. Together. Besides, when you first came up with the idea it was less about women being all pally-pals with one another and more about you being pissed off at there being some secret club that Karleen was going to be a part of and you couldn’t be.’

  ‘This doesn’t have anything to do with Karleen!’

  ‘Bullshit. It has everything to do wit
h Karleen. And you were a hell of a lot feistier back when you came up with the idea than you are now.’

  Bloody hell. She knew Annalise was a big supporter of the women on NOP, but she still expected her to have more empathy than this once she heard about what Wendy had gone through – once she’d heard what it was like from the other side.

  ‘All right,’ Poppy said, ‘well, what about the thing with the kid who had an allergic reaction? Are you on NOP’s side on that one? You think that woman had every right to give a child food without checking with the parents first?’

  ‘Actually, I looked into that one. I found a news story on it. That had absolutely nothing to do with NOP, it happened in Adelaide about six months ago, before we’d even started the group. But the story’s doing the rounds on social media again now. And I’d say someone from MOP has decided to twist the details to use it against us.’

  ‘Oh,’ Poppy said, ‘I didn’t know.’

  Annalise shot her a look of superiority that grated on her and she found herself blurting out the question: ‘Hey, I thought you went to Sydney Uni.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Your jumper,’ she said, ‘you’re wearing a Macquarie Uni jumper. But I thought you went to Sydney Uni.’

  Annalise gave her a funny look. ‘No,’ she said, ‘I went to Macquarie. But we’ve never even talked about where I went to uni anyway, so I don’t know why you thought I went to Sydney.’

  Their argument was cut short then – Elle was calling them over for a pre-game chat. Several other players gave them sideways looks as they jogged over; Poppy hadn’t realised how many of them had been listening in as the two of them had argued. Obviously, Annalise didn’t know Poppy had seen her resume. Or maybe she’d filled it with so many lies she’d actually forgotten she ever put Sydney Uni on there. Either way, something really strange was going on. And it was too late to tell her the rest of the Wendy story now as well.

  Weirdly enough, the game was the best Poppy had played in a long time. It could be hard to tell which way it would go when you were worked up. Would it throw you off? Cause you to make unforced errors? Or would it fuel you and push you harder than ever? Apparently for Poppy, tonight it was fuel.