‘I’m starting to miss my farm fleeces,’ I agree. ‘Here, take this sink. I can squeeze in here.’ I pick up my makeup pouch and move one sink along next to Bridget, who is also nearly done.
‘Thanks,’ Whit sighs, peering closely at her skin in the mirror. Her makeup bag is organised so that every product or tool has its own little slot, and she opens it out flat to take out one thing at a time. I wonder if she’s always been this way, orif it’s the side effect of the operating theatre. She groans as she dabs foundation on with a beauty blender. ‘Not gonna lie, but the daily full face is testing me.’
‘I keep breaking out,’ Lina says in sympathy. It looks like she’s painting little stars on her cheeks. I guess it goes with her flowy skirt and crocheted crop top. The kind of clothes I’d find from searching ‘hippy aesthetic’ on Pinterest. ‘Well, look. This is novel at least.’
‘What is?’ I ask.
‘I’m not sure I’ve got dressed for dinner with four other women in a restaurant bathroom before,’ she continues. I like the way Lina always tries to find the silver lining in every cloud, even a toilet.
‘Yeah because it should not be novel, right?’ Bridget’s accent goes full throated with irritation. ‘It should be fuckingpre-novel! Anti-novel!’
‘I’m not sure that…’ Lina clearly decides better than to try and argue grammar with a furious Welsh girl. ‘Itwouldbe nice to be in a dressing room.’
‘Any room that smells less like piss,’ Bridget adds as she contours her nose with highlighter.
It’s Whit’s turn to groan. ‘I did ask if it was alright to gobeforeI wazzed.’
‘I’m not gonna deny you your human right to wazz, Whit,’ Bridget says seriously. ‘My complaint lies with production, and their decision to place us in this wazzy room.’
‘Could everyone stop saying wazz?’ I sigh, picking through the lipsticks in my makeup bag.
‘Hush, Whit and I are busy unionising,’ Bridget says.
‘Okay, I think this is as good as it gets,’ Whit announces, throwing her beauty blender back into the makeup bag.
‘Whit, babe, you could literally go out there in a pair of ASDA bags, and Malachi plus the whole world would be tooentranced by your beauty to notice,’ Bridget says, and Whit bobs coyly.
‘Fuck my life. Help! Someone is going to have to get me out of here,’ cries Dolly from the stalls. ‘These loos were not made for my ass. I think I’m stuck.’
I probably shouldn’t help her. But she did help me at security. Maybe we can be civil in public.
‘In the loo?’ gasps Lina, rushing to the toilet door in a cloud of glitter. ‘You fell in?’
‘No, I’m—’ The door half opens and closes, something rattling ominously. ‘I’m caught on something.’
Bridget throws her hands up in the air. ‘This bloody wazz room!’
‘I’m coming in,’ Whit says.
‘Comingin?’ Dolly cries. ‘Where? There’s no room in here!’
Whit wedges herself into the door Dolly is currently trapped behind. ‘Here, stop waggling your arms around and let me assess the situation with my highly trained surgeon eyes.’
‘I want you to free me, not slice me open!’ Dolly protests.
‘Stop moving or you’ll rip it.’
Whit and Lina seem to have a handle on it, so I go back to finishing my makeup. When I do, I see Whit in the mirror, bending down to free Dolly’s dress that seems to be caught, her beautifully curved legs bare where the dress has pulled away.
I focus on keeping my eyes on my lips as I slick on my lipstick.
‘Oi, Gog,’ Bridget says, catching my attention. She lowers her voice to a whisper so I have to lean in close. ‘You spoken to her since you moved out?’
I shake my head. ‘Not really. It’s fine. I’ll just keep my distance.’
‘That’s going to be harder here. They’ll be getting us all to hang out together more.’
I grit my teeth, unsure if this shade of pink is clashing with the peachy dress.
