She walked into the bathroom, where a small mirror, the only other mirror in the house, was installed over the wash basin. She only ever looked at herself in that mirror when she had to. And never for long. All she could ever see was a line of nasty black stitches along a dark red gash, with bruising all around. Her face didn’t look like that now—but that’s what she saw.
Anna reached for a brush and began fiddling with her hair again, brushing it forward to hide the scar. She felt better that way. Less exposed. Safer.
An open bag of makeup sat on the ledge in front of her. She pulled out some of the contents and looked at them. She honestly could not remember the last time she’d worn makeup. She shook a bottle of liquid foundation. It seemed a bit thick, but gradually loosened up. She unscrewed the lid, flicked her hair back behind her ears, and began applying the foundation.
She did her forehead first. The scar there was the smallest. When her hair hung loose, it was almost invisible. A little bit of makeup could hide it easily enough. Then she turned her attention to the right side of her face. The side without the scar. Applying the makeup brought back memories of being younger. A uni student going to dances and the movies. Going on dates. Feeling good about herself in her pretty dress. Very aware that the young men were smiling at her. And some of the girls were a little envious of her.
She applied foundation to the other side of her face, but after a few strokes, her hand stilled. She had no idea how to apply makeup over scars that were too big to be easily covered. And the age of the makeup didn’t help either. For one moment, she wished she’d taken the chance on plastic surgery. But deep down, she knew that no amount of plastic surgery would make her look the way she had. She looked awful. Like the bride of Frankenstein. With a sweep of her hand, she threw all the old makeup into the bathroom bin. Then she washed her face, the soap and water washing away her hopes too.
Who was she kidding? Nothing was going to make her face look like it used to. Nothing was going to make her pretty again. Ever.
She walked back into her bedroom and sank onto the bed. She should call Justin and cancel. It didn’t matter how kind he was. Or how much he pretended he saw past the scar. When it came to a date, all men wanted someone pretty across the table from them. And she could never be that.
But she liked him. Really liked him. Being around him made her feel more like her old self than anyone else ever had. Of course, he was only here for a couple more weeks and then he’d be gone. Maybe she could pretend for a little while. That would be nice. And this date was just dinner. Probably at the pub. Everyone at Wagtail Ridge knew her. Everyone had seen her face and become accustomed to it. Apart from that first flicker of pity she saw in most people’s eyes, nothing would be said. Surely there was no harm in pretending for a little while.
Anna got to her feet and picked up the pretty dress. With determination, she pulled it over her head and zipped it up. She fished some not quite dried-up mascara from the bin, and found some pale lip gloss. That worked. It said she was making an effort, without trying to conceal something that could never be concealed.
With a firm nod at her reflection, she added a tiny dash of perfume. It was good to smell like a girl and not someone who spent their days up to their elbows in disinfectant. The watch she slipped over her wrist was small, with a delicate leather band, not the practical timepiece she normally wore to measure an animal’s pulse. She reached deep into her top drawer and found a small velvet box. Jewellery didn’t have much of a place in her life, but in this box was a pair of diamond stud earrings, a graduation present from her parents. She slipped them through her pierced ears and then brushed her hair again. This time, she didn’t try to cover the scar.
The reflection in her mirror was not what she wanted it to be, but it was who she was.
She turned to leave the bedroom, casting a quick glance at the disorganisation getting ready had left. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t as if she would be inviting Justin in … despite the fact that the mere thought of it caused a frisson down her whole body. She heard a car engine outside, and flicked off the light.
She opened the door as Justin was raising his hand to knock. He started to smile, then the smile faded, replaced by a look that could almost have been shock. She cringed, wanting nothing more than to turn away from his disappointment.
‘You look … wonderful.’
The pleasure in his voice was palpable and her heart lifted.
‘I mean, you look wonderful all the time …’ He was stammering like a schoolboy. ‘But that dress … it’s …’
‘A lot better than overalls and rubber gloves?’
‘Yes. That.’
‘Thanks.’ She lowered her head so her hair fell over her scarred cheek and let herself believe she was as she had once been. ‘You look nice too,’ she said, not quite meeting his eyes. He did. Sexy as he had looked in his hot firefighter photo shoot, she liked this better. Dark trousers and a casual linen shirt. He looked less like a hero and more like a person she could be comfortable with. And, as her mother would say, so handsome!
‘I’ve booked us a table for seven thirty,’ Justin said. ‘We probably should get underway.’
‘It’s not going to take us that long to get to the pub. And you probably didn’t need to book. Even when Jake is cooking, tables aren’t that hard to get.’ Anna locked the door behind her and they walked together towards Justin’s car.
‘But we’re not going to the pub.’
‘Oh?’
‘I thought it might be nice to go into Scone. There’s a place there that looks good. And it’s well clear of the watchful eyes of the knitting club ladies.’
Anna composed herself while Justin opened the car door for her to get in, before walking to the driver’s side. She didn’t say anything, but she hated going out to dinner in strange restaurants. Particularly upmarket restaurants. Nobody ever said anything, of course, but every person who looked at her reacted to the ruin of her face. It wasn’t as if they would say anything to her about it. Kids sometimes did, but not adults. They simply turned away or looked at her with pity in their eyes, and sometimes that was worse.
Justin got back into the car, buckled his seatbelt and turned on the engine.
‘I’m really looking forward to this evening,’ he said as the car started moving. ‘Since we got here, I haven’t really had any time off.’
‘How long are you and Ben staying?’
‘I really don’t know. There are a lot of people asking for advice. And we start training the new volunteers tomorrow.’
‘I’d like to help, but if there’s a fire, I’m usually inundated with injured animals.’
