‘Ow!’ He tried to tickle me, but I dodged him. ‘Got it all figured out yourself then, have you, Abs?’ he shot back. ‘No offence.’
Mum emerged from the bathroom a new woman. Red-raw from all the scrubbing, but that would settle down. ‘What are you two playing at? Chris – OUT of my room, please.’
I pointed him at the door with a smug, sisterly smile and looked Mum up and down.
‘Much better,’ I said. ‘And now that the grey is out, we can use my magic blow-dry cream to glow-up your hair.’
There was a hesitant knock and Dad cleared his throat. ‘Is it… safe to come in?’
‘No! Don’t look at me, Harry,’ Mum shrieked, holding up her towel and running back into the en suite. It was bizarre to think she still cared what he thought after a lifetime of living together, but she liked him to see her at her best.
‘I know I sound like the talking clock, but we need to leave inone hour,’ Dad persisted.
‘It’s all right for you,’ Mum cried. ‘You only have to brush your teeth and you’re ready!’
‘I’ll be done way before then, Dad. I need to get back for Kat’s birthday lunch.’
‘It’s the big one, isn’t it? Her thirtieth?’ Chris asked.
‘Yep, and she’s feeling a bit weird about it, so me and Sara have got everyone together as a surprise. I really hope she doesn’t freak. Now,outplease, while I get Mum ready.’ I shooed him towards the door. ‘Mum, cover yourself in this body cream, and let it absorb while I do your hair.’
‘But it’s dark green!’ Mum said, horrified.
‘Yes. To balance out the orange. I can’t believe they sprayed you this colour. Who did it? We should report them to the beauty ombudsman.’
‘It’s my fault. The girl told me to go for the seven per cent shade, but I insisted on fifteen. I could barely tell it had been done last time and I wanted a deep, bronze tan. She did say the darker one was more for… er… fancy dress.’
‘Fancy dress as what…?’
‘As something veryorange, Abigail, I don’t know,’ Mum said, irritated. ‘A pumpkin, or a sweet potato. Or a traffic cone.’
‘I’ve seen much worse,’ I said, unfazed. ‘Remember that time I was working onMrs Doubtfire, and we couldn’t find her false nose? I had to fashion one out of an egg carton in the end. It was touch and go for a while, but we got through it.’
Mum whipped off her towel and slathered herself in the green cream. Her skin tone started to neutralise almost instantly, and the tangerine hues calmed into a healthy summer glow. I breathed a sigh of relief and blasted the hair dryer on, settling into a relaxing rhythm as I twirled and curled her bob into its signature Marilyn bouffant. I could see Mum’s panic subsiding as I brought her back from the brink of beauty disaster.
‘What would I do without you, Abs?’
‘Not much point in two years at beauty school if I can’t help my own mother look her best for her anniversary, is there?’ My mind flickered. Forty years was one hell of an innings, and it was highly unlikely I’d ever get there now. At thirty and very single, that kind of marriage milestone felt well and truly beyond my reach. Mum’s hair was like a cloud of vanilla candyfloss by the time I’d finished – the ultimate blonde bombshell, ready for the red carpet. We couldn’t have looked more different as I gazed at her in the mirror. Mum had been channelling Marilyn Monroe ever since she’d seen her inSome Like it Hot, whereas my go-to look was the absolute opposite. My wiry frame and thick, brown hair came from Dad’s side – although we’d only ever seen evidence of Dad’s hair in old photos – and I’d inherited Mum’s blue eyes and button nose, but sadly not her cheekbones. Mum loved high glamour and lots of coverage, but I preferred a clean, natural look. I spent every working moment doing other people’s make-up; styling actors up and down and dressing them in elaborate costumes, I didn’t want to have to do it for myself as well. I liked my routine low-key and low maintenance.
My phone pinged.
Sara:I’m having a nightmare day already. Any chance you can pick up the balloons?
Sara was in charge of getting our other friend Kat to the pub on time for her birthday lunch and should have dropped the balloons and flowers off first thing, according to the schedule. How was it 12 p.m. already? Too many things to do, as usual, but I’d help Sara out and pick up the balloons, of course I would. Another ping.
Sara:And the flowers? So sorry!!!
Hmm. I’d need to get home and turnaround in an hour, but I should be able to do it.
Me:Yes of course, no worries. See you there at 4 p.m. xx
I’d better get a move on.
‘Feeling better?’ I asked, as Mum finally smiled at herself in the mirror.
‘Yes thanks, love. Much. I thought I was going to have to wear a balaclava there, for a minute.’
‘Not ideal in this weather,’ I said, glancing outside. It was the hottest summer on record, for the fourth year running, and had been unbearable for weeks. ‘Ready for your make-up?’
