‘Dean, go and get me some of that wax you use and the blow-dryer,’ Vernon instructed.
‘I’m fine. It’s fine. We can be done now, can’t we?’
‘Mum, you’re meant to enjoy makeover transformations,’ Angel said, sinking her teeth into an apple from the fruit bowl.
‘Is that what I’m having?’
‘It certainly looks like it from where I’m standing.’
‘Dean! Bring me a mirror!’
Oliver Drummond’s Penthouse, Downtown Manhattan
‘I have to say, you’re going to a lot of effort for someone who lives on the other side of the world,’ Tony stated as Oliver buttoned up his coat.
‘Just because things can’t be permanent doesn’t mean you shouldn’t make an effort.’
‘Spoken like someone living on borrowed time.’
Oliver swallowed. There was the reminder that it wasn’t just Hayley living an expanse of ocean away that would stop this being any more than a string of dates. It was the fact of his own ticking time bomb. That was why he didn’t make plans. That’s why every night, he let himself blow in the wind, end up wherever the mood, circumstance or his best friend took him. There would be no putting down roots or long-term connections for him; that’s why everything in his personal life stayed casual. Just like this. Tonight was absolutely no different except it was planned fun withsomeone he knew, rather than spontaneous fun with someone he didn’t. That’s what he kept telling himself.
‘I didn’t mean that,’ Tony said quickly. ‘I let the Romario mouth take over for a second without engaging the brain.’
Oliver smiled, shaking his head. ‘That’s OK. I know what you’re doing.’
‘What am I doing?’
‘Looking out for me. Like you always do.’
‘Come on, Oliver, that sounds way too much like sentimental crap to me.’
He nodded. ‘You’re right and I need to get out of here.’ He swallowed. ‘So remember, table for two, the one in the corner about ten o’clock.’
‘It’s all arranged, man. Momma’s been flitting around the kitchen since I told her you were bringing someone over.’ Tony smiled. ‘You might only have temporary on your mind, but Momma’s never seen you with a girl… she’s expecting marriage.’
Dean Walker’s Apartment, Downtown Manhattan
‘Close your eyes,’ Vernon said.
‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ Hayley said, shutting her eyes tight.
‘Don’t puke; it will ruin your dress,’ Angel said, guiding Hayley by the arm towards the gilt-framed mirror in the hallway.
‘OK. Are you ready?’ Vernon asked.
‘I very much doubt it.’
‘Open your eyes!’ Vernon ordered.
Hayley snapped back her lids, fully expecting to be horrified by what she saw. Instead, she choked on a lump of emotion that hadjumped up from nowhere. Staring back at her was the reflection of someone she barely recognised. Her mid-length hair had been cut to just below the chin in an inverted bob, sleek, shiny and perfect. She put her hands to it, ready to feel some of the glossiness. Vernon took her hand.
‘You mustn’t touch it, darling. You’ll ruin it.’
‘I… don’t believe what you’ve done.’
‘You look gorgeous, Hayley, utterly gorgeous,’ Dean said, wiping at his eyes.
‘Oh no, I’ll go and get the Kleenex,’ Angel said, disappearing back towards the kitchen.
