Skinny Dipping (27 page)

Sophie looked around the cluttered room for something else to think about besides dating Matthew. Carol got in late each night, tired from her show, and her dresser was covered in makeup, lipsticks, handbags, sequined leotards, and hats – every type of hat a person could possibly have ever worn. Bowler hats, sunhats, sombreros, firemen’s hats and police hats, as well as a large collection of wigs were piled atop the dresser. Maybe she should spruce up Carol’s room, just a little bit, not too much for her to take offence, or to even notice. There was no harm in that.

“Bollocks, take a risk. Just because I offer advice, doesn’t mean I take it,” came Carol’s muffled voice from the closet. “This is the most exciting thing that’s happened in this house. A date!”

“Friends,” Sophie said.

“Yes, okay,
friends
. If and only if, guys and girls can be, just friends,” Carol said sceptically. Suddenly she shrieked, “Sophie, I’ve got it!” Carol emerged from the closet a smile spanning from ear to ear, her face shining. She shook an orange dress with excitement. “This will fit and look amazing. I’ve even got wonderful shoes to match.”

Sophie took the dress from Carol, holding it steadily, resting the garment in front of her. The dress looked like fairy floss, all layered ruffles and tulle. She frowned, considering a tactful response.

“Repeat after me, ‘it’s not a date,’” Sophie ordered.

“It’s not a date.” Carol muttered. “He’s on the mend sweetheart, and you’re getting him on the rebound. You’re on the mend, too. You can trust this one. He’s a good guy.”

“I’m not out to seduce him, and I’m not getting him on the rebound. It’s been too long a gap for it to be a rebound.” Sophie tried to control a stricken look as she examined the dress. “Do you think this dress is quite right?”

“Matthew’s the most exciting thing that’s happened to you in quite a while. The dress is perfect! Go on, try it on.”

She looked at the dress for a second time, seeing the excitement on Carol’s face, sighing she slipped the dress on.

Carol gasped with pride. “I knew it would look amazing,” she said. Placing her hands on Sophie’s shoulders, she turned her to the mirror.

Sophie pushed aside a yellow feather bower and a collection of wigs that were hanging over the dresser mirror and glimpsed at her reflection, holding off a shudder.

“Okay, the purpose of this dress is to make him notice you,” chided Carol. “You’re not just at work, or at the swimming pool, you’re dressing up – you want him to see the woman in you.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little bit too much?” She was a life sized piece of meringue, someone just had to dare take a bite.

“Not at all.” Carol dug a small box out of her handbag. “Men like women with confidence. You’re in advertising. Work it girl, work it! You love it, don’t you?”

Sophie caught Carol’s eye, and nodded. “Of course, it looks fab. Thanks for helping.”

“But first, Soph, look what I picked up? The very thing for your hair, Matthew won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

Sophie felt herself pale as she took the packet. Hair dye. “You know this will bleach my hair.”

“Change your look a little bit. Take a risk for a first date. Let me do it for you, I did some of the girls at the studio. Now take off the dress for tomorrow and I’ll grab a towel for over your shoulders so you don’t mess the floor up.” Carol then instructed Sophie to sit in a chair, pushing her in, undoing the packet with speed.

“What’s wrong with just straightening it? This all seems like such last-minute effort. Not really thought out.”

“We’ll do it right now. You’ve got to see Matthew looking your best. Besides you’re clearly getting over Derek, so we need a new you.” Carol opened the hair dye box and put plastic gloves on her hands, then began combing Sophie’s hair.

“Matthew won’t even recognise me if I go blonde.” Sophie closed her eyes, her lip wobbling a little. “But the dye might totally ruin it, the bleach and everything. My hair is dark brown you know.”

“Look it’ll go a little Aztec. Look at the box. Don’t you think the colour looks fantastic?”

Sophie took the box, examining it, going blonde could be the new thing. Looking at the smiling blonde on the packet – weren’t blondes supposed to have more fun? Blonde hair could be the start of something new, problems solved with a bottle of hair dye.

“It will be the best thing to pick yourself up out of the hole you’re hiding in. Move on from Derek. There are decent guys out there. This one is teaching you how to swim. He’s a good fish.”

Maybe Carol was right, maybe hair dye would change her life? She eyed Carol, her sparkling eyes looking back at her in the mirror. Sophie’s excitement mounted, superhero Sophie, she liked the sound of that. Confident, sexy, better.

“Go on. Do it.” This was not a world of fear she lived in, it was only hair dye after all.

Carol rubbed her hands together. She opened the hair dye, combing it through Sophie’s hair. “This is going to look absolutely sensational.”

Carol’s mobile phone rang.

“It’s my director,” she said, then answered the call. She fled to the next room, her voice loud and animated as she spoke. She ran back into the room, grabbing her handbag.

“Oh God, Sophie. I’ve been called in. My director wants to see me right now and he won’t say why. I’m so worried, I might lose my job. Are you okay to leave the dye in and just wash it out? Follow the instructions on the back of the box. It should be easy. I’ll see you in the morning.” Carol darted out of the room, not even waiting for a response.

“I’ll be fine.” And her hair, she’d be fine. Following directions for lustrous hair shouldn’t be that hard. She imagined what she’d look like when she entered the office.

A half-hour later, she washed the dye out in the shower, forcing herself to towel-dry it without looking. She ran her fingers through to smooth out the tangles, then ran to the mirror, apprehension filling her as she approached, ready to gaze at the new, changed, dynamic Sophie. This was truly a step to moving on with her life. But as she stared at her reflection, she felt her heart pounding. She froze.

Her hair was orange. Not Aztec blonde, not golden, but
orange
. Shaking her curls, shades of bright carrot and soft pumpkin shone back at her instead of blonde or brown. If she wore the fairy floss dress, she’d be truly edible. Come on boys, just eat up.

Sophie paced the room, head darting back and forth to the mirror. Her hands ran through strands of wet, orange hair, wanting desperately to call Carol, knowing she couldn’t. Carol was dealing with something urgent, and she couldn’t possibly come back to fix it.

Sophie grabbed one of Carol’s wigs, a short black bob, there was an idea. She twisted her hair into a French roll to tuck it under the wig. The roots shone bright like the sun praising a glorious new day.

She sighed. It was only orange. She could deal with that. Hair colour was nothing to get overly excited about; and after all, she was only seeing Matthew Silver and it wasn’t a date.

Oh God, what if he thought it
was
a date?

***

Sophie ran to the underground tube station, darting across the heavily trafficked streets in Highbury. Her gaze fell to her watch; time was of the essence. Then a force jolted her to stop, pulling her shoulder back. Sophie whirled round, clenching her fists. A fairy floss dress thrust at her face. Sophie stepped back with caution as the coat hanger almost poked her in the nose.

“You forgot it. You can’t be late tonight, and I know how caught up you get.”

Sophie grappled to hold the garment steady, away from her body. Peeking over the ruffles, Carol stood in her bright pink pig slippers, a silk pink nightgown wrapped round her shoulders and last night’s mascara smudged over her face. A glow of triumph exuded from her face, but her grin slowly faded, as she tugged a wisp of Sophie’s carrot hair from under the baseball cap.

“Oh Jeeeeezzzee,” Carol hissed.

Sophie shrugged Carol’s hand away. “It’s fine. What are you doing awake? I heard you come home after four.” Sophie noticed circles under her friend’s eyes and wondered whether Carol had gone to visit Josh or whether something urgent had come up at the theatre.

“Oh Soph, I had no idea it would turn orange.” Guilt spread across her friends face. “Keep the dress. Please keep it.”

“No. It’s fine.”

“What are you going to do? Did you want me to dye it again?”

“No, no, I’ve got a plan. Why are you awake so early, running around the street like that?” Sophie indicated at the dressing gown, noting the silk hung only to her mid-thigh.

“What’s wrong with this? No one cares about me? I live in London, millions of people come to this tube station everyday.” Carol put her hand on her hip, tapping her slippers on the pavement, the fluffy, pink pig’s head nodding in agreement as Carol’s foot went up and down. “Besides, you’re the one in my cap and sunglasses.” It was true. Sophie had borrowed one of Carol’s many hats – a black baseball cap – the most understated one in Carol’s collection.

“Well can I borrow it then?” Sophie shifted the dark sunglasses over her face feeling somewhat like a celebrity hiding from the masses, large oval circles covering half her face, lenses coming down to the middle of her cheeks.

“’Course you can borrow them. I think the glasses look better on you anyway.”

“Thanks.” Sophie supposed that was a compliment, she wrinkled her nose. The circular, goggled frames, although fashionable, made her feel like a fly. But if she took her cap off and left the sunglasses on, she supposed she’d look like a bee. It was a pity it wasn’t closer to Halloween, as she had the perfect headgear. At least no one would recognise her.

“Why didn’t your tell me? You should have rung or texted. I could have asked some of my friends to come over after the show and help.”

“I’m going to my hairdresser, she’ll sort me out.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

Sophie shifted on her feet, thanking the shade of the lenses, almost black to hide her expression. “No.” She hoped her hairdresser could help her, but it had been too late to make an appointment last night.

“What if you can’t get one?”

“Someone will do it.”

“You’re not going to race into work are you? This is an emergency; you’ve got a date tonight.”

“It’s
not
a date. I’m thinking of cancelling anyway, if I can’t fix this.” Sophie tucked a wisp of stray hair back into her cap.

“You can’t cancel.”

“Why not?” Of course she could cancel, this was a disaster.

A sparkle flashed across Carol’s face, her lips twitched, slowly extended from ear to ear. “That’s why I raced out to tell you.” Carol swept up the ends of her dressing gown into the tips of her fingers with a graceful motion, and bent into a deep curtsey.

“What is it?”

Carol leapt and twirled, pig-slippers doing a pirouette on the sidewalk, without a care in the world even when tube passengers stopped and stared at her. She was made to be a star.

“What is it?” Sophie pulled her hand to her chest, her heart beating rapidly.

“You are looking at…” Carol paused for effect.

“What? Tell me, damn it.”

Carol’s voice came out dramatically, loudly like she was on centre stage of the theatre. “For one night only, you’re looking at the Swan Queen! You’ll even get a chance to see me! You
have
to come tonight. You have to!”

“Oh my God! That’s amazing!” Sophie shrieked, leaning over to hug Carol. She pulled back and stared into her friend’s face. “How did this happen?”

“The lead is sick! Frightfully ill, the doctor says – she hasn’t been eating, mind you, but we won’t tell the doctor that. You know how dancers get when they’re in the spotlight. Anyway she collapsed – that’s why I had to go in last night, perfect all the moves because I’m front and centre tonight. I rehearsed, dancing my little butt off for hours last night, making sure that I’ve got all the moves down.”

“Don’t you get sick. Go home and rest.”

“I’m too excited to rest. Can I help you at all?”

Sophie frowned, realising the dark circles were larger than she’d seen on her friend. Carol always did this, hyped herself up when she got over excited. She took her friend’s hands, patting them gently. “Run yourself a warm bath, I have some salts in my room. You need to calm down, get some sleep, so you can do your best tonight. Don’t you worry about me, I’ll be fine. Matthew and I will see you tonight. Good luck.”

“Don’t say that. It’s bad luck.”

“What am I supposed to say? Break a leg? Not very good for a dancer is it?”

“Well ‘break a leg’ is the act, one foot behind the other.” Carol bowed down. “Get it? It’s an archaic expression for bowing or curtseying. But if you want, say
‘merde.’
That’s what we all say; it’s French.”

“Merde.”

Carol leapt in the air, floating on her personal high.
“Ciao, ciao.”
She waved, dashing across the hectic road. Sophie sighed, realising she’d probably gotten about as much sleep as her friend, worrying about her hair. She planned to miss her swimming lesson, catch the tube and go straight to the hairdresser.

***

Sophie stared at the receptionist, her voice shaking. “What do you mean she’s not in? She’s
always
in.” The girl stood behind the reception counter of the hairdressing salon. Thick tiger stripes coloured her brown hair, creating an alternate, edgy look. The girl shook her head, widening her innocent eyes. “She’s just not in. She’s sick today, I’m afraid. You’re just too early on a Friday morning. We could do something with a Senior Stylist later this afternoon.” The girl ran her perfectly manicured nail down her notepad. “Around four o’clock we have space. Or you’ve got me? I’m free right now. I could help.” The girl moved the broom awkwardly from the reception. “Why don’t you let me see?” The girl reached over and took the cap from Sophie’s head.

The girl fondled a strand of hair. Her chest tightened. “Do you think you can fix it?”

The girl nodded, her head bobbing up and down slowly. “I’m only an apprentice. But I can fix it.” The girl’s voice was strong, unwavering, and confident. How many people, she wondered, came into the hairdresser to get a colour correction? How much experience would an apprentice have with colour correction?