Woman to Woman (45 page)

Worn with her new black skirt, the outfit looked nice but rather boring. She poked around in the drawer where she kept her costume jewellery, looking for something that would enliven the outfit. Nothing. She was about to strip it off in despair when the doorbell rang.

When she got downstairs, Phillip had already answered the door and Fiona was standing in the hall.

“Looks like I came at the right time,” Fiona said gaily, waving a big Next bag.

“This is what I’m thinking of wearing tomorrow night,” Aisling said, doing a twirl in her stockinged feet.

“I can’t find anything else, basically. Is it OK?”

“It’s OK, but you want to look better than OK, my dear.

That’s why I came over. Come on upstairs. I’ve brought over a few gorgeous things for you to try on for the party. I knew you wouldn’t buy anything new.” Fiona marched upstairs with Aisling following

Even though she had probably been having a mini breakdown at home organising the house for the party, Fiona would still make time to make sure her friend was wearing something drop-dead gorgeous. She was a great friend, Aisling thought as she followed Fiona’s petite jeans-clad bum up the stairs.

“I know you don’t want to spend all day tomorrow buying clothes, which is a good thing as I can’t come with you.” Fiona talked as she opened the bag and laid various items of clothing on Aisling’s bed.

“One day we must go shopping together because I still don’t trust you not to buy boring dark things because you think they make you look thinner. But until then, here are a few bits and pieces for tomorrow night.

What do you think of this?”

She held up a bronze-coloured body with a wrap over front which was made of spray-on lycra and would undoubtedly reveal plenty of cleavage.

“It’s very Maria,” Aisling said, holding the body up to herself and looking at the mirror.

“But it’s also very small. How the hell can any of your clothes fit me!”

“It’s all down to the Goddess of Lycra,” Fiona said.

“This stuff is stretchy, so it’ll fit you, no problem. Is Maria one of Vivienne’s friends?”

“Yes, she’s a howl Aisling said, unzipping her skirt.

“She’s a real individual, mad as a bicycle. She had us all in stitches

the whole night. You’ll have to meet the three of them. You really like Vivienne and Annie as well. What do you think?”

She stepped back from Fiona and looked in the mirror. The body fitted her as if it had been made for her. It moulded her curves like a second skin and the subtle colour suited her much better than the black body she’d been wearing minutes before.

“Gorgeous. It’s lovely.” Fiona eyed the outfit with her head at an angle. Try it with trousers or with your long black skirt.

I think it’ll look great with a long skirt and this gold chain belt.”

She was right. Aisling stood in front of the mirror, delighted with the slim and toned body she saw. Thank you Callanetics, she said to herself.

Try on this,” ordered Fiona, handing Aisling a black lace top.

This is perfect, Fiona,” protested Aisling, gesturing at what she was wearing.

“I don’t need anything else.”

“Go on, Aisling. You need more than one sexy evening outfit now that you’re turning into a party animal. Anyway, that top suits you much better than it suits me, so you’d be doing me a favour if you keep it..”

“I can’t keep it,” Aisling said.

“Don’t be silly. I never wear the bronze thing because I just don’t have the boobs for it.” Fiona looked down at her rather flat chest ruefully. And you should take the black thing too. It never really suited me. Go on, take them. They’re just cluttering up my wardrobe. Or rather Pat’s wardrobe, since I’ve taken over most of his as well. I think I’ll soon have to buy one of those clothes rails you see in shops.”

Aisling quickly tried on the lace top. Beautifully cut with a high neck and long sleeves, if it had been made of anything other than lace, it would have looked very plain. But because it only had a built-in bra lining the fabric under the lace around her breasts, the effect was of a very revealing and incredibly sexy outfit.

“Fiona, I cannot go out in this. You could see my bra at the back,” Aisling pointed out.

“In fact, you couldn’t wear a bra with this at all.”

That’s the whole point.” Fiona sat back on the bed and gave her friend a mischievous grin.

“What do you mean? Am I supposed to break into Patricia the Stripper and undress when there’s a lull in the conversation?”

Fiona looked cagey.

“Well, I’ve got a couple of nice single men coming and I did promise them a live strip show in the dining room …” She chuckled at the idea.

“No, Aisling, I just want you to live up to your potential. You’re gorgeous and it’s about time you realised it. There’s no point hiding behind loads of clothes any more. I won’t let you.”

Aisling was unbelievably touched.

“You’re very good to me, Fiona. What would I do without you?”

Fiona considered this!

“Well, you wouldn’t have an appointment with my hairdresser at ten tomorrow morning. I’m going in for a blow-dry and I thought it would be great if we went together.”

She looked at Aisling expectantly.

“What do you think?”

That’s a great idea,” Aisling answered.

“I didn’t book anywhere because it slipped my mind today. Actually, I was thinking of getting highlights put in, just a few, nothing much,” she added hurriedly. She shouldn’t have said that.

Now Fiona would pester her unmercifully to get the full Marilyn peroxide look.

“Brilliant!” Fiona clapped her hands delightedly.

“I know you’ll look wonderful with highlights. Watch out boys,” she said with a wicked laugh. The newly single and available Aisling Moran is going to hit the scene!”

They’ll think I’m really available if I wear this,” Aisling pointed out.

“All the more reason to wear it. You don’t want to become a nun!”

Aisling couldn’t think of a suitable answer to that.

The smell of ammonia filled Aisling’s nostrils and she was glad when a cup of coffee was put before her. Taking a sip, she turned her attention to Vogue magazine and relaxed. It was lucky that Fiona had made an. appointment for her as the salon was already buzzing and it was only a quarter past eleven.

“We’re doing a wedding party with six bridesmaids explained the colourist as he painstakingly divided Aisling’s hair into tiny sections, slipped tiny pieces of easi-meche paper under each section and painted different types of bleach on.

They all want ringlets he whispered.

“It’s like a Helena Bonham-Carter lookalike competition in here.”

An earnest young man wearing all black, the colourist chattered away as he worked on Aisling’s hair. She was fascinated by the whole procedure. By using the meche method, he explained, he could apply different colours to her hair and this would make it look more natural than just being bleached with one colour.

She had a lot of hair and it took a solid hour to do her whole head. When he had finished, he gave her a pile of glossy magazines, asked her did she want coffee and put her , under a rather strange hair dryer which looked like a three-bar fire more than anything else.

It felt wonderful to be pampered, to sit back, read magazines, drink coffee and let someone else run around like a headless chicken. She’d been up at eight, organising the boys’ soccer kit which she hadn’t done the night before, getting their breakfast and bringing them to soccer. She’d ended up putting her make-up on at traffic lights because she didn’t want to go to the hairdresser’s barefaced. Nothing accentuated lines more than the unforgiving light in a hairdressing salon.

But today wasn’t like any of the other times she’d gone to the hairdresser over the last few years. Since she’d put on weight, sitting for ages in front of a mirror with nothing to do but stare at herself was painful. Not any more.

Today, the woman in the mirror was a slim, independent working woman. She turned a page. She never bought Vogue so it was nice to read it for free at the hairdresser’s. And it certainly gave you a glance into how the other half lived, she thought, marvelling at how a simple dress could cost over a thousand pounds, even if it was made by Gucci. For that money, it would want to be able to do the dishes, hoover the sitting room and cook the dinner.

She looked up to see how Fiona was getting on. Her neighbour was seated at the other end of the salon having her hair blow-dried into a sleek bob.

Aisling didn’t know who was more pleased when she said she wanted her whole head highlighted the hairdresser or Fiona.

“Well, how are you doing?” asked Fiona, appearing at Aisling’s side suddenly.

“I’m doing marvellously,” said Aisling with a smile, holding up her coffee cup with her little finger crooked in a parody of the way her granny told her was ladylike.

“I think I should spend all Saturday mornings in the hairdresser.”

“Good, said Fiona, who did spend all her Saturday mornings in the hairdresser.

“You’d be great company for me. What time will you be ready?”

“About another hour, I reckon Aisling replied.

“I’ll nip off to do some shopping then. I saw this divine little dress in Jackie Lavin’s window yesterday and I’m going to try it on. Yes, I know I said I wasn’t buying any clothes for ages, and I know Pat will murder me if he sees another shopping bag in the house. He says I’m a shopaholic,” Fiona added in a surprised tone.

“But this dress is lovely. It’s silver-beaded and has a halter-neck .. Divine. I’ll be back in an hour, OK?”

You just had to laugh at Fiona, Aisling thought. If she knew anyone else who spent half her life shopping and the other half thinking about shopping, she’d think they were one of society’s rich bitches. But Fiona was so kind and funny, you didn’t mind the fact that she spent more on clothes in one week than many people earned in two. It must be nice to have an inheritance.

By the time Fiona returned with two large bags of shopping, Aisling was ready. The colourist was showing her the back of her head with a hand mirror and she was bursting with delight. The long lank mousy hair had gone, to be replaced by soft waves of shoulder-length glossy blonde hair which framed her face beautifully. The face was the same, Aisling thought, taking in the perfectly styled hair, but it looked totally different now.

Her skin glowed beside the soft gold and ash blonde strands of hair. Her eyes looked large and luminous now that her hair was swept back from her face.

“Aisling! Wow!” Fiona’s voice was high-pitched with surprise.

“Well, what do you think?” Aisling swivelled around in her chair and grinned at her friend.

“You look amazing, absolutely amazing. You should have had this done years ago,” said Fiona.

“I’d probably walk past you on the street if I hadn’t seen you here. You look so different.”

“I know. Isn’t it wonderful?” Aisling couldn’t keep the delight out of her voice. She felt transformed. She wanted to run outside and march into all the expensive shops in the Blackrock Centre. Now she looked as if she belonged in them, I looked as if she was a stylish and attractive woman instead of the drudge she’d been for so long.

She shook her head slightly for the third time, enjoying the feeling of her hair rippling around her head. Aisling felt as if she’d never get tired of doing this, delighted with how light her hair felt and fascinated at the way it fell perfectly into place each time.

“Come on, we better get out of here,” she said.

“I have to pick up the twins and you have to organise the party of the year.”

Fiona grimaced.

“I love the idea of having a party until the actual day I’m having it. Then, I want to sit curled up on the couch with a dry Martini and a good book.”

“It’ll be fun, Fiona, you know you’ll start enjoying yourself after the first half-hour. You always do.”

The twins loved Aisling’s new hairstyle.

“You look great, Mum,” Paul said.

“Yeah, it’s lovely added Phillip.

But they weren’t the ones she wanted to impress with her new look. Once they got home, she raced upstairs to look at herself in her bedroom mirror. Maybe she only looked good in the hair salon, she thought anxiously. Maybe she’d revert back to her normal, boring self as soon as she looked in the mirror at home. The woman who stood in the centre of the bedroom was totally different from the woman who’d left that morning.

A deep, slow smile spread across Aisling’s face. She took her lipstick out of her handbag and quickly applied some. But the colour which had looked fine with her mousey long hair looked pale and uninteresting on the blonde Aisling.

She rummaged around in the dressing-table drawer until she found what she was looking for a rich pink lipstick she’d bought ages ago and never worn. It went perfectly with the pink short-sleeved cardigan she wore with her jeans, jeans she needed to belt at the waist.

It was after two when Phillip roared down from his bedroom, “Dad’s here, Dad’s here!”

Aisling put down the knife she’d been using to peel the potatoes and quickly washed her hands. OK, Michael, get ready to meet the new, improved Aisling Moran.

She fixed a smile on her lips and opened the door slowly, her heart thumping madly. He was standing a few feet away from the front door, obviously expecting the boys to run out to the car the way they usually did. Dressed in dark grey cords and his ancient marl grey Nike T-shirt, Michael looked tired and drawn. She’d have sworn that there were more grey hairs around his temples than there had been the last time she’d seen him.

“Hello, Michael,” she said coolly. The boys will be down in a minute. We had a late lunch and they haven’t got their stuff ready.” ‘

Ignoring the look of astonishment in his eyes, she turned and yelled up the stairs.

“Come on boys, get a move on.”

When she turned back to Michael, he was studying her as if they’d only just met. His gaze came back to rest on her face and the look in his eyes was one of admiration.

“You look fantastic, Aisling,” he said slowly.