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Kelly pops her head around the door. ‘First clients are here, ladies.’
Without further ado, we down our coffee simultaneously and head out onto the floor.
My first client is my regular, Mrs Norman, who’s already been shampooed and is sitting waiting for me.
‘How’s your love life then, young Janie?’ Mrs Norman’s opening gambit every Friday when I do her set. She settles herself in the chair.
‘It’s going well, thanks.’
‘Saw that boyfriend of yours in the paper,’ Mrs Norman says, beaming. ‘Fine looking young man.’
‘Dominic,’ I supply as I start to wind a roller into her hair. ‘Yes, he is.’
‘And brave too! Oh, my word.’
I smile at her in the mirror. All the people who were firmly against Dominic – my clients, my friends – have now switched sides and are his staunchest supporters. They can’t get enough of him now. Just goes to show what a bit of celebrity status can do for a person. Part of me thinks that it’s a shame that they didn’t see what a good person he was before he was on the television and in the newspapers. That kind nature was there all along. Should I really be grateful to the Daily Mail for making sure the world and my friends realised that? Couldn’t they have worked that out for themselves? He was a pretty cool guy before he was on the telly, in my mind.
A few of the reporters have beaten a path to our door and Dominic has treated them all in his usual impeccable and polite manner. Even I was persuaded to join him for a few photographs and give them a quote about our impending nuptials. The coverage has slowed down now though and I’m sure once they’ve published a wedding photograph or two, we’ll become yesterday’s news.
‘I’ve bought a little gift for you,’ Mrs Norman says.
‘Oh, thank you.’
She hands me a silver and white wrapped box, topped with a curl of ribbon.
‘Just a little token.’
A pile of similar boxes in different shapes and sizes have been growing in the staffroom. Every day this week, I’ve taken home armfuls of gifts. This will, no doubt, be the first of several today and I’m touched to think that my clients are so thoughtful.
‘Make sure you bring some photographs in, Janie.’
‘I will.’ I’ve also bought some little boxes so that I can bring all of my regulars a piece of wedding cake.
‘I was thinking,’ Mrs Norman says, ‘maybe I’ll have something a little different done to my hair.’
‘Really?’ It’s a good job that I’m sitting down on my stool.
‘Next week. Don’t want to rush these things.’
‘No,’ I say, wanting to punch the air. ‘No need to rush. We’ll have a look at something else next week.’ She’s had the same hairstyle for ten years; I can wait another seven days.
‘Sometimes it’s good to embrace something a little bit different.’ She beams at me. ‘That man of yours hasn’t got an older brother who likes ballroom dancing, has he?’
‘You’re not the first person who’s asked.’
‘I’m too old for love,’ my client says sadly. ‘That’s for young ones like you.’
‘You never know.’ I shrug. ‘Sometimes when you’re not looking for it, then it sneaks up on you.’
‘I hope it gets a bloody move on,’ she complains. ‘I’ve already got one foot in the grave.’
But Mrs Norman, despite her teasing, knows what it is to be truly loved and, now, so do I.
Chapter Ninety-One
Mike is leaning against my kitchen cupboards, drinking a cup of tea. He made one for me too, but that’s remained untouched on the table.
‘Drink that,’ he instructs, ‘and then go and get dressed.’
I’m currently still in my slippers and dressing gown, although I’ve done my make-up and Nina has fixed my hair. ‘How long have we got?’ I ask anxiously.
‘Plenty of time,’ Mikes says. ‘Stop panicking.’
I nibble at my nail, even though I’ve just painted them. ‘Have I forgotten anything?’
‘No,’ he assures me. ‘Everything is sorted. All you’ve got to do is put your gladrags on.’
‘Is Dominic ready?’
‘Just doing the finishing touches.’
‘Nina?’
‘In the shower.’
‘What about Archie?’
‘Nearly took my arm off while I tried to attach that damn bow to his collar.’ My cat purrs, feigning innocence, on the table.
‘Good, good. I mean sorry, sorry.’
‘It’s all under control.’
‘Right.’ I try a deep breath, but it doesn’t reach my lungs. ‘Right.’
