Monday 23 March – Project Alison Day 51: Haven’t written in this journal for a few days. It’s been all go here!
Picked the twins up on Saturday after work and took them to see Mam and Dad. Mam let them sign her plaster cast. Dad regaled them with thrilling tales about Kelsea Sands and Kels Point during the World Wars. I had to wake them up to take them back to the caravan, but apart from that little interlude they really enjoyed themselves. We all had Sunday dinner at The North Star yesterday before I took them home. I think they’ve fallen in love with Kelsea Sands.
Going to the hairdresser’s today. Rosie thinks I need a change of image, but she can think again. I’m a bit wary about going somewhere new. It’s hard to trust hairdressers when you don’t know them, but I’ll probably just have a trim so it should be okay.
Finally told Rosie this morning about Mac’s ex-wife marrying his ex-best mate. She’s as appalled as I am. Poor Mac! He’s had such a hard time of it and he’s always so calm and kind. We cooked salmon burgers last night with ginger and soy sauce and a bit of coriander. They were yummy. Had another lovely evening at Watersmeet and then Mac walked me home again…
‘I’m just saying,’ Rosie said, as she adjusted the towel around her shoulders, ‘that Mrs MacMillan kept very quiet about Mac losing his kids and his business. We all thought he was doing really well in Oxfordshire and had a brilliant life. You said it yourself! You thought he was charmed. If Mam had known anything about it you can be very sure I’d have heard, so it’s all been hushed up.’
Alison looked at her disbelievingly. ‘Why would Sheila MacMillan go around telling your mam, of all people? Or anyone else’s for that matter! It’s nobody’s business, and I only told you because – well, it’s you. But don’t go saying anything to anyone, Rosie. I mean it.’
She glared at her cousin’s reflection in the mirror, and the hairdresser, who was fastening a cape around her, laughed.
‘Well, don’t worry about me, love. I won’t say anything. I haven’t the foggiest idea who you’re talking about.’
It was a good job there wasn’t a hairdressing salon in Kelsea Sands, Alison thought, because news would spread like wildfire – even more than it usually did. Here in A Cut Above in Hilderstead she felt reasonably safe discussing the issue with Rosie, if not entirely comfortable.
‘Right,’ said the hairdresser, ‘what are we having done today?’
‘Be radical,’ Rosie advised. ‘Honestly, Jade, she’s been having her hair cut at the same salon in Hull for donkey’s years, and it’s always the same. She needs something doing with it, if you ask me.’
‘Well, I think that’s up to her,’ Jade said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. She lifted some of Alison’s locks and let them drop, eyeing them critically. ‘It is quite fine, though. Have you ever thought about getting it cut shorter?’
‘Shorter?’ No, Alison hadn’t. She’d had it past her shoulders for as long as she could remember and couldn’t imagine it short. It was easy to put up in a ponytail or a bun at this length.
‘Just to give it a bit of bounce and body,’ Jade suggested. ‘The length of it is weighing it down. How do you fancy a chin-length bob? You’ve got great bone structure. You should show it off.’
Alison wasn’t sure but Rosie was full of enthusiasm. ‘Oh, go on, Ali! Be daring. New you, remember? It could be part of Project Alison. Hey, Jade, do you think she could do with a bit of colour?’
‘I’m not dyeing my hair,’ Alison said.
‘Maybe a few highlights?’ Jade suggested. ‘You’re very lucky. You’ve hardly got any grey, but a few blonde highlights would blend with what you do have. Nothing too extreme. Just to brighten your face a bit.’
Rosie was leaning so far towards her it was a wonder her chair didn’t tip over. ‘Oh, go on, Ali! You’d look brilliant with highlights, and I think a bob would really suit you. Do something different for a change. Go on!’
‘And when did you last change your hairstyle?’ Alison demanded.
Rosie looked wounded. ‘I don’t need to! My hair suits me perfectly.’
‘Thanks very much.’ Alison sighed as the hairdresser watched her reflection hopefully. ‘Oh, go on. Might as well give it a go.’
‘The bob or the highlights?’
Alison shrugged. ‘Both.’
‘Woohoo!’ Rosie punched the air. ‘You’re going to look fab, Ali. Trust me.’
It was almost two-and-a-half hours later when they left the salon, and Alison felt like a new woman.
‘Honest to God, it’s taken years off you,’ Rosie told her.
‘It’s taken nearly eighty quid off me, too,’ Alison said wryly.
‘Totally worth it.’ Rosie linked arms with her. ‘Come on, I’ll treat you to a cup of tea at the cafe over there. Help you get over the shock.’
The Trusty Teapot was just across the market square from the salon, so it was only moments later when they settled themselves at a table and ordered a pot of tea for two, politely refusing cake or scones to go with it.
‘You know, you didn’t even flinch when you said no then,’ Rosie observed. ‘A month ago you’d have been dithering about turning down cake but look at you now.’
