The Salon on Argyll Street: Starscopes, #1

By Ruth Hay

Ruth Hay's fifth fiction series, Starscopes, takes you into the lives of women who believe in coincidence or in following their instincts and the signs around them. A sweeping saga told over four novels, now complete!

Do horoscopes influence you?
Do you believe in coincidence? Have there been times in your life when someone, or something, turns up at just the right moment to provide what you most need?
Starscopes may change your life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ruth Hay
• Release date: Feb 5, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386180210

Book preview

ONE

CAPRICORN (DEC. 22-JAN. 20)

Octavia Dumley always clung to the notion that eight must be her special number.

She ignored the taunts of the children in her class who did not know the Latin derivation for her name and mocked her for being different from the ‘Emmas’ and ‘Benjamins’, currently at the top of the baby name lists.

Her older brother Julian suffered much the same ridicule. He was called Julia, or Julie, or worse, for some time in school, but he developed a thick skin and a fighting style with his fists that soon warned off the more persistent kids.

Their mother maintained they were fortunate to bear the names of famous Romans and refused to allow discussion about it. She had always kept an absorbing interest in history that added an element to her dreary daytime existence in a supermarket. It was an interest she refused to relinquish.

"Everybody needs something special about them. In any case, you two will be glad I gave you remarkable first names to distract people from Dumley.

Eventually she was proved right. No one who ever interviewed either of the Dumley children for a job, forgot them, or the brief explanation offered about their unusual name origin.

Octavia had played on this exceptional characteristic for several years but her luck ran out when the factory closed and she was just one of the many combing the Public Library’s internet for ‘Staff Wanted’ ads.

Her savings were few to start with. Her flatmate in the far reaches of East Kilbride decided to move in with a boyfriend and Octavia saw her choices diminishing with her finances. She had to find a job or she would soon be forced to go begging to her mother for her old room at home that was now serving as a mini yoga studio.

In the dark and dreary week between Christmas and New Years, Octavia ran out of options.

All she had left was her name and the number it represented. After a fruitless afternoon walking the downtown streets looking for job offers in shop windows, she squashed down her pride and went to the dingy Bingo Hall, choosing a seat far to the rear with a view of all the old biddies and lonely old men who occupied the tables.

The caller was a thin, bored young man who barely summoned the energy to say the silly rhymes that accompanied the numbers on the balls he withdrew from a drum.

The players ignored him. Their eyes were fixed firmly on the cards they had purchased. Octavia noticed most of the oldsters had several cards in front of them. She had only two. All she could afford.

She scanned the numbers and put her faith in any number with an eight in it. Her hand shook and the marker she was holding shook along with it. She was conscious of the desperation of this act. It was the end of the line for her. She never thought she would sink quite this low.

The caller started his routine and he spoke surprisingly fast. She had no trouble keeping up as no number on either of her two cards had yet been announced by the caller. She almost rose to leave the hall. This was a waste of time and money.

Suddenly, she heard Ain’t it great, number eighty-eight! If you were thinking of leaving, better just wait!

Her heart gave a jolt and her eyes scanned the cards. Yes, she had the eighty-eight number! She marked it in fluorescent yellow and by the time she had finished, the caller was two numbers ahead and he was announcing, Eighteen! Sweetest age for a pretty teen.

It seemed as if she might be on a roll. It seemed as if she was being given a message, a second chance, a …………………….. She stopped thinking and listened, her hand moving automatically as the numbers were called out. There was one more eight, forty-eight, but it did not matter because she was rapidly filling one card and she was stunned at her success until a woman far down in the hall stood up and yelled Bingo!

There was a chorus of groans and several cigarettes were surreptitiously lit up in despair. Octavia watched the woman move to the front, waving her full card triumphantly over her head.

What happened? Could there be two identical cards?

She looked again at her card glowing at her with circled number eights, jumped up and ran down the centre aisle to the stage where the young man was double checking the woman’s card against his pencilled list.

Sorry, my Love! You marked sixteen not eighteen in that line. Better luck next time.

The woman turned away with a disappointed face and downturned lip. The caller said to Octavia, What can I do for you darling? New here? Need another card? The next game is about to start.

She held up her card and his eyebrows danced up to his spotty forehead as his eyes ran down the highlighted numbers.

Yes, Folks! he announced. We do have a winner for that round after all. She’s a Winner Beginner! Don’t worry, now, the rest of the night’s winnings are for you regulars, for sure.

He quickly signed his initials and pushed her away toward the desk where she had purchased the two cards on entering the hall.

The next game had commenced, but Octavia felt as if invisible daggers were being tossed toward her back. Undoubtedly, the regulars hated to see a newcomer steal their rightful winnings.

She could not wait to get out of there. She pocketed the envelope offered to her and fled out into the street where she took her first deep breath in what felt like hours. She glanced at her watch. It was just past eight o’clock. She had been in the Bingo hall for much less than an hour.

It was a dark, damp evening. Shoppers rushed by with heads down, intent on reaching their bus stops and a ride home. She should be running with them but the thought of the long, cold, bumpy ride back to East Kilbride was something she could not face.

On an impulse, Octavia merely pulled up the hood of her raincoat and stood shivering in the chilling wind. The centre of Glasgow was a grim place at this time of night. She decided to seek shelter in a corner coffee shop where she could look safely inside the envelope she held tight in her right hand within her coat pocket.

The coffee shop was warm and smelled wonderful. As soon as the heavy door swung closed behind her, she began to feel more positive. It was an age since she spent money in such a place. She stumbled for a second. The floor was wet with footprints and drips from drenched overcoats.

She could not move forward to the counter where orders were taken, because she had no cash left. Unless, whatever was in the envelope could allow her the treat she now desired above everything in the world? To be able to sit in comfort sipping coffee and nibbling on a sweet treat like normal people, suddenly became the epitome of all luxury.

She sidled away to a table near the windows where steam from the coffee machines made the bleak outside scene dim and distant. With her back against the window, she carefully removed the envelope from her pocket and placed it on her knees where no one else could see it. With trembling fingers, she opened the flap and looked inside.

Cash! Actually notes. Mostly small denominations, but many of them.

She gasped and then looked around to see if anyone at a nearby table had noticed. She knew not to start counting the notes. That would be inviting trouble. She extracted the first one with a number 10 on it and stuffed the rest back into her pocket again.

As she stood, she noticed her legs were trembling. Cold or excitement? It did not matter now. There was no one in the lineup. She walked carefully over the wet patches on the floor to the cash register and ordered a large coffee with cream and one sugar and then she looked at the display cabinet brightly lit to show every grain of sugar and shine of glaze, every raisin and chocolate sprinkle, every muffin and biscuit and cream cake.

The girl behind the counter was waiting to take the rest of her order. Deciding was difficult. Then she caught sight of a twist of pastry with cinnamon on top.

It was in a figure eight. She laughed out loud, and pointed to the bottom shelf of the glass case.

That! I’ll have two of those please.

In moments, she paid, pocketed the change, and received a tray with her coffee and the two pastries on a plate.

Eighty-eight! Side by side they make the number eighty-eight! Is this a sign my luck is changing?

The pastries deserved all her attention. As the cinnamon melted into the buttery outer layer, her tongue reacted with delight. This was the best taste ever. The fact that she had not eaten all day or imbibed more than one cup of tea, was likely the reason for her reaction, but the lights in the café seemed brighter, the coffee sweeter and everything around her more full of promise. She began to relax and noticed it was a new sensation. Ever since Natalie moved out of their rented flat, Octavia had been in a state of anxious alarm. Now she felt as if the tide had turned. Possibilities she feared gone forever seemed to be back in her future. She could make a plan.

The table nearest her emptied as a man and a woman scraped back their chairs and exited. They left a newspaper lying on their table. She stretched out her hand and scooped it up.

Another opportunity to find a job? If her luck was turning, she must not neglect this chance.

Reading rapidly through the Wanted columns, she felt like she was seeing things she would not have noticed previously. In one section, she found two places where help was needed urgently.

Temporary Receptionist Required Immediately.

Good appearance and pleasant manner essential.

Apply in person to: Eight-to-Eight Beauty Spa.

Argyll Street, Glasgow.

She knew at once this was the choice for her. She would apply first thing in the morning after choosing her best business outfit and washing her shoulder-length light brown hair, brushing it to a shine. She was not dismayed by the temporary nature of the work. All the signs pointed to her success and it could lead to other opportunities. She would be in employment for her birthday, which was coming up in two weeks. As this happy thought occurred, she turned the pages of the newspaper to read her horoscope. If everything that had happened in the last few hours is a trend, perhaps it would be clarified in her star sign.

Capricorn (Dec.22-Jan.20)

It has been a dark time for you, Capricorn, but do not despair.

The new year brings a brighter future. Take charge of your life.

Make bold choices and fortune will smile upon you.

Numbers three, six and eight are predominant.

TWO

Mum! Wait till you hear this. I have so much to tell you.

So, you are still alive! I haven’t heard from you for weeks, Octavia. I called your number and no one answered, not even that stupid girl Nola, or whoever she is.

Natalie is long gone. I am doing much better on my own and I need to tell you about it all. When can we meet?

Well, don’t you sound enthusiastic for a change! Meet me after my shift and we can have a quick meal and a chat in town. I have to go. George the Assistant Manager is looking at me again. He screams if we are one minute late from break. Bye.

Octavia replaced the phone on her marble-topped desk and brushed an imaginary speck of dust from its surface. She was sitting in an office chair that allowed her to roll smoothly and silently from a bank of telephones, to appointment book, computer, and to centre position for greeting clients.

Across the foyer she could see her reflection in the glass doors for which she held the device that gave access to the spa. Her hair was in a new style and her makeup was perfect, courtesy of Armand the owner, who accepted her application on condition that she subjected herself to the treatment that would transform her into an eligible, if temporary, receptionist.

We have high standards to maintain here, Octavia. Our receptionist is the first person clients see when they arrive and that first impression is crucial to our success. You are acting in place of our Veronica, who had an unfortunate accident in Ibiza, and is nursing a broken leg. She was our second-shift person so you will be required to work from two until eight in the evening.

He turned his head from side to side as he examined the candidate and finally proclaimed her acceptable.

I believe you can fit in here. We must do something about the clothes, of course. You will wear our salon uniform with a name badge. I do approve of your name by the way. You must wear high heels at all times, naturally, and attend to your appearance. False nails should not be necessary once you have been given our top class manicure.

Armand departed, leaving behind the aroma of an expensive cologne and, to the discerning ear, a hint of East End Parkhead in his practised and cultured West End speech patterns.

---

It was the start of a frantic week, during which she had no time to think about anything, other than the wonder of this new life.

Suitably polished and dressed, she took on the role and coped somehow with all its demands. After a day or two she figured out an assembly line job in a factory was not all that different from what she did at Eight-to-Eight. The hours were long but she had regular breaks in a staff room well supplied with snacks and sandwiches. The toilets were immaculate and filled with scented products for staff and clients to use. In some ways it was like working in a top-class hotel, although her personal knowledge of such places was restricted to movies.

Whenever she returned to her desk again, Marsha, a vibrant redhead, who was her break person, breathed a sigh of relief.

Let me back to my manicures! This job is a nightmare. I don’t know how you or Veronica stand it. You would need three hands to juggle all this. Good luck.

As she studied her reflection between calls, Octavia took a moment to reflect on the matter of luck. If there was such a thing as luck, she was being showered with it of late. She wondered where this luck had been hiding during the rest of her life. Possibly, Lady Luck was waiting until she was in desperate straits to show her face. It was obvious that everything in her life had changed with amazing rapidity. Was it all to do with the number eight finally working on her behalf? Was it just pure coincidence, if that even existed?

There was an uncomfortable degree of uncertainty related to these recent events.

If Lady Luck was so unpredictable, it was likely she might disappear with the same speed with which she had arrived, leaving Octavia in a much worse situation since she had now known and experienced a job for which she was well suited, a flat she could afford on her own, and a chance to continue to better her life.

The lingering fear of uncertainty disintegrated one bright morning when Armand approached the reception desk holding an Eight-to-Eight mug of coffee in his hand and asked her how she was enjoying her work.

Oh, I love it! Such lovely people work here and the clientele are unfailingly polite and happy with the services you provide. It’s a pleasure to come here every day.

"I am glad to hear this, Octavia. I have checked with the rest of the staff and they approve of you. I want to make this more permanent. Our Veronica has decided to accept a position in Ibiza for the time being. The job is yours if you want it. You were the first of the applicants I liked and I am never wrong about these things.

One item of concern, however. I understand you live in East Kilbride and ride home on a bus each night. Marsha, our manicurist, shared a flat here in town with Veronica and she is now looking for a flatmate. If you lived closer to work, you could be available for such things as product shows and displays on the weekends. What do you think?"

Her heart was attempting to escape her chest with the rapid rate of its beats. She tried to remain calm and professional but this was more than she ever expected to hear.

They really liked her here. Marsha wanted her to share an apartment. Armand approved of her. Eight-to-Eight was about to be a permanent part of her life.

Holding fast to her emotions, she tried to remain professional and replied with a shy smile.

"I am more than happy to accept your offer,