Page 71 of You Only Live Once
I sat down heavily in the chair and, across the room, Jack dropped a cup, which smashed into pieces on the floor. I looked at him and he looked at me, exchanging horrified expressions.
‘Sorry about that,’ he said to me before his eyes flicked to the hairdresser.
‘Don’t worry,’ I said, finding words amongst the panic in my brain.
Just be strong, I told myself. Tell him you don’t want it short. And then Martin began to laugh.
‘Oh, my goodness, you’ve gone as white as a sheet! I’m only joking, darling. You’ve got beautiful hair and Poppy did say you like it long.’ He glanced over at Jack, who was now also looking suitably relieved. ‘Something tells me someone else likes it long on you as well.’
‘No!’ Jack began to stammer. ‘No, it’s not that. It’s just I… you know… she… she likes it long and was worried about it being cut. That’s all. Nothing else.’
‘Ohh, I see.’ Martin turned back to me and gave me a huge smile.
I shook my head at him, trying not to smile back. ‘I get the feeling you’re rather a troublemaker.’
He put his hand on his chest and radiated innocence before giving me a wink. Across the room, Jack swept up the remnants of the bone china mug and tipped them into the bin.
Once everyone had their drinks, Jack gave us a wave and said that he was going to take Clive out for a long walk and then drop him over at Felix’s. They were dog sitting for me overnight, although I was hoping not to be back too late tomorrow. The publisher had arranged rooms for us at a hotel near the venue and, although I would have been quite happy to travel back tonight, it might be nice to stay in a swanky hotel for once. It had been a long time since I’d done anything like that. I could have a leisurely breakfast in the room before requesting the car from the publisher to take us back home.
Once Martin cut my hair into an actual style, something it hadn’t seen in a long time, but keeping the length as he had promised, Jemima began to show me images of different make-up looks, suggesting what she thought might suit me. Poppy nipped up to my room and brought down the dress so that they could get an idea of the look as a whole. They both oohed and aahed over it. I had explained that it was really all down to Poppy’s shopping skills but that I was quite excited to wear it, although I wasn’t sure if I would ever be able to remember how to walk in heels that high. It had been a long time since I’d worn those as well.
‘They’re gorgeous, though,’ Jemima said, looking at the strappy numbers Poppy had also brought down. ‘They’ll look stunning when you get a flash of them from that dress as you move.’
‘I agree, and I gather your beau this evening is your delightful butler.’ Martin studied the five-inch spikes. ‘He is quite tall, so these seem the perfect choice. You’re going to look amazing.’
I laughed at Martin’s quaint use of the word ‘beau’. ‘He’s neither my beau, nor my butler. Just as well, as that was a nice cup he smashed. He’d be out on his ear.’
‘I’m just teasing, love. I know he’s the gardener really. It’s all veryLady Chatterley’s Lover, isn’t it?’ Martin said, squishing his shoulders up in excitement.
I burst out laughing. ‘No! It’s not that at all! Nothing like.’
‘Shame,’ he said, grinning widely. ‘He’d make a perfect Mellors.’
‘More the other way around, anyway,’ Poppy added, taking a seat on the sofa and tucking her legs up under her.
‘What do you mean?’ the hairdresser asked, glancing up from where he was mixing some sort of concoction in a small foil tray with what looked like a paint brush.
‘Jack’s the eldest son of an earl. When his father eventually shuffles off his mortal coil, that title goes to Jack.’
‘Really?’
Jemima was listening now open-mouthed, a finger hovering over the screen from where she had been showing me shades of lipstick.
‘Yep. Not that he’s thrilled about it.’
‘I bet you he’d make a lovely lord of the manor, though,’ Jemima said, slightly wistfully.
‘I’m pretty sure he’d make a lovely anything,’ Martin added cheekily and gave me another wink. ‘Now time for colour!’
* * *
‘I think I’m going to cry.’ Poppy stood beside me, both of us looking into the mirror.
‘Don’t you dare!’ I replied. ‘You know what I’m like if someone’s crying, and I can’t cry in this make-up. I’ll never get it the same again.’
‘Jemima did put waterproof mascara on though, so that’s something.’
‘That’s true.’
