“Oh, my God,” Cara gasps, when I walk into the pub. “Your hair!”
“I know.” I pull out the empty chair at the table and take off my jacket. “What do you think?”
I was wondering about canceling on the pub quiz night that Jen has organized, but it’s so rare I can go to group things that I thought I should make an effort. I’d have much rather sat at home on my own, figuring out how I was going to deal with Cordelia’s list of demands, but I thought it would be good for me to allow myself a bit of fun.
I’m also aware that everyone in our friendship group will know about Daniel’s wedding, and I want them to see I’m absolutely fine.
“It’s very different,” Jen says enthusiastically. “Good different.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” She nods, grinning at me. “You look cool.”
“I agree,” Mike says, giving Cara a look. “It’s very trendy. Very cool.”
“Yeah, trendy,” Cara repeats, acknowledging his signal. “But it’s so… different.”
“I fancied a change. Thank you, Mike,” I say, as he fills one of the spare glasses on the table from their bottle. I move round the table to greet everyone. As well as Jen and her husband, Ollie,there’s Becca, Aiden, and Ryan, all of us friends since first year of university.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Cara holds up her hands, staring me down. “You’re going to leave it at that? You walk in here with this huge change of lifestyle and you expect us to accept your explanation of ‘I fancied a change’? We need answers!”
“It’s only my hair, Cara.” I smile, picking up my glass. “It’s hardly a lifestyle change.”
“Is this because of Taylor Swift?”
“What? Why would I change my hair because of Taylor Swift?”
“You did last time.”
“No, I didn’t,” I protest, even though she’s right.
I wanted to look young and carefree like Taylor does in her music video for “22,” so I attempted a fringe like hers. It lasted two days. Fringes areveryhard to maintain and I don’t have the time or energy with such a fast-paced career.
(And it looked awful.)
“I know the inspiration behind this!” Cara suddenly says, her face lighting up as I sip my wine. “Lady Cordelia Swann!”
I spit my wine out, coughing and spluttering. Mike hands me a tissue to dab my chin.
“Do you remember Lady Cordelia?” Cara continues, oblivious. “When she dyed her hair red back in our teens, I tried to do the same, but it went… er… wrong.”
“Wasn’t she on one of those reality TV shows?” Jen asks, Ollie nodding along.
“No, she was much too classy for that,” Cara says defensively.
“Yeah,” I mutter into my wine, attempting a more successful sip, “she’sreallyclassy.”
“I remember her,” Becca says, stirring her gin and tonic with her straw.
“She was a socialite a while ago, we were obsessed with her,weren’t we, Sophie? Anyway,” Cara shrugs, “I thought you might be harking back to our youth with this redhead vibe.”
“I like it,” I say defiantly. “I think it suits me.”
“I think so too,” Ollie agrees, before noticing something at the bar. “Ah, I think they’re giving out quiz sheets.”
“I’ll fetch one,” I offer, getting to my feet. “I need the loo anyway.”
“Me too,” Cara says, her chair screeching across the floor as she pushes it back.
