Feeling Curious (Part 8)

Previously

Liz rang the evening after I sent the photographs.

I was already in bed, with the images still open on my phone. I had been comparing them again: the tightness of the curls, the shape over the crown, the way the hair changed the outline of each woman’s face.

“I’ve had a look,” Liz said when I answered. “I think you’ve found the right sort of curls to surprise Nick with.”

“Do you think it’s possible?”

“I think it could be. Let me come and look at your hair properly before we make a plan. I need to check the length through the top and make sure it’s happy enough with the colour.”

“Friday?”

“Friday will be perfect.”

——

When she arrived that afternoon, I noticed her hair as she got out of her car.

She looked like she’d got some extensions added to her hair. Her blonde curls had been swept high at the crown and left to fall over one shoulder. Darker roots gave the pale colour depth, and the curls were glossy and defined without looking stiff.

“Liz, your hair looks stunning, I love it like this.”

She touched one of the longer curls and smiled. “Thank you. I bought a new curling wand to use when styling clients. It was top of the range and far more expensive than I expected to pay, so I had to try it out on myself first.”

“It seems to have been worth it.”

“Oh, completely. I feel very 80s.” She looked at my hair and smiled again. “Though you won’t need me doing that to your hair anytime soon, especially if we go ahead with your plan.”

The remark made me smile before I could stop myself.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Show me what you’ve been looking at.”

I led her through to the hall and sat down while she opened her case. I sat down whilst Liz picked up her comb.

She combed through the longer sections, checked the hair around my ears and at the nape, then asked when I had refreshed my colour. I passed her my phone, and she looked at my saved images once more.

“The curl itself is right,” she said. “But I wouldn’t copy the whole shape.”

“No?”

She lifted the hair at my crown, then smoothed the side flat with her palm.

“I’d keep the perm through the top and crown, where you’ve got the length. Then I’d take the sides and nape in close and blend them properly. Your ears stay clear, the curls have somewhere to sit, and it will still look like a much shorter haircut.”

I looked at myself in the small hall mirror.

“And you’d use clippers?”

“Just for a soft taper. Probably a grade four at the lower sides and nape, then scissor-blended into the top. It won’t look harsh.”

I imagined the little curls gathered over the close copper hair beneath them. The style in the photographs had been the thing that made me start looking, but this felt more like mine.

“That sounds better.”

“It gives it some shape,” Liz said. “Otherwise, it risks becoming all curl.”

“I want the curl. I just don’t want it to look like I’ve put on a wig.”

“You won’t.”

“So it will work?”

“Sure. But we want a little more growth first.”

Nick’s birthday was just under four weeks away. By then, Liz thought the longer hair would sit properly on the small rods and the contrast with the taper would be cleaner. She set aside almost the whole day for the appointment, leaving enough time for me to get ready before dinner.

I put it in my calendar and arranged a day off work.

After that, I stopped looking for different styles. I had found the one I wanted. But I still returned to the photographs whenever I had a few minutes to myself, usually in bed or on the train.

The more I looked, the more I wanted the curls on my own head.

——

Over the following weeks, I sometimes used the wand. Other mornings I left my hair almost straight and noticed how much the front had grown. It pushed to one side more easily now, while the hair around my ears had started to look thicker and less deliberate. The nape was no longer as close as it had been after the pixie cut, though it still felt short whenever I touched it.

Nick continued to notice the curls.

One evening, as we were getting ready for bed, he smoothed his hand lightly over the crown and said I had done it nicely that morning.

“There’s hardly any curl left now,” I said.

“There was when you kissed me earlier.”

I looked at him, pleased that he remembered.

He smiled and rubbed his thumb gently over the small bend above my temple. “It stayed in my head.”

I did not say what that did to me. I only kissed him, then left the curl alone.

It became surprisingly enjoyable keeping the proper perm to myself. Nick knew Liz was coming on his birthday because I had told him I was having my hair freshened up before dinner. He had no reason to expect anything more than a tidy-up.

——

By his birthday, it had been nearly two months since I had cut the pixie. I had found it tough in styling sense to let it grow longer without having anything cut. The front needed pushing aside, the hair around my ears no longer sat neatly, and the back had begun to turn out against my neck.

We had breakfast together before Nick left for work. He opened the book I had bought him and spent several minutes looking through it while his coffee cooled. I had written something inside the card that made him reach for me before he had finished reading.

“Thank you, love.”

I leaned into him and kissed his cheek. “Happy birthday.”

He left the card beside the kettle while he got his things together. I checked the taxi booking on my phone.

“The taxi’s coming at quarter past seven,” I told him.

“I’ll be back by six.” He slipped his arm around my waist and kissed me properly. “Enjoy your day off. Try to have some of it off.”

“I intend to.”

——

After he had gone, I answered one work message and put my laptop away. Upstairs, I laid my dress for the evening on the bed and found the accessories I wanted to wear with it.

I was back downstairs making coffee when Liz arrived.

She had brought more equipment than usual: a portable basin, a bag of rods, extra towels and her clippers. We set the basin up in the kitchen and put the chair and tray in their usual places in the hall.

I took off my earrings and sat down. Liz settled a towel around my shoulders, fastened the cape and combed the front away from my forehead.

“You’ve got the length,” she said. “I’m going to keep everything useful through the top.”

“And take the rest off?”

“Neaten it up, yes.”

After washing my hair, she sectioned off the longer top and clipped it out of the way. The damp hair beneath it lay flat around my ears and at the back of my neck.

Liz combed the right side down, picked up the clippers and looked at me in the mirror.

She switched them on.

The sound was more familiar after I had my pixie cut, but I had not expected how pleased I would be to hear it again. Liz started low at my sideburn, which I hadn’t experienced last time, moving carefully upwards and away from my head as she softened the line into the longer hair above. She worked around my ear without taking the taper too high.

Small pieces of copper hair fell onto the cape.

She did the other side, then moved to the nape. I felt the clippers clear the soft growth at the base of my neck and the gentle brush of the comb as she blended upwards.

When she switched them off, the lower half of my hair felt light again.

I lifted my hand towards the side of my head.

“Not yet,” Liz said, catching my wrist with a smile. “Let me finish what I’ve started.”

She unclipped the top sections and combed them down over the new taper. I could see the difference. It looked like me, but the outline was cleaner, closer and more exposed around my ears.

“Right,” Liz said. “Now for main attraction. The perm.”

She pulled the rods closer. They were smaller than I had expected.

“That’s going to give me the little curls?”

“Yes. Small sections, wound carefully. It takes a while.”

“I don’t mind.”

She began at the back of the crown, above the tapered nape. I felt the comb separate a narrow section, then the light pull as she enclosed the ends in paper and wound it onto a rod.

The close sides were left free. Row by row, the rods filled the longer hair through the crown and top, stopping before they reached the taper around my ears. When she worked at the front, she wound a few pieces forward so the finished curls would soften the upper part of my forehead.

I had been picturing the finished style with the dress I intended to wear that evening. Sitting beneath the growing rows of rods, I started thinking beyond the meal. I imagined getting ready for work on Monday with the curls already there, and the close sides needing nothing more than a hand smoothed over them.

Liz and I talked about the restaurant, then about a few days away she was planning. The conversation fell quiet whenever she concentrated on a smaller section. I was comfortable enough to let it.

Once the rods were all in place, my crown and top were covered in neat, compact rows, while the short sides and nape remained clear beneath them. Liz adjusted one rod near my temple, checked that I was comfortable and protected the skin around my hairline before applying the solution.

I noticed the smell immediately and was glad we had opened a window.

While it developed, I drank tea and answered a message about dinner from our friend Jo. Liz checked the curl by loosening one rod carefully before securing it again.

“Coming along nicely,” she said.

I put my phone away. Work was finished, dinner was booked and I was quite content to let her get on with it.

By the time the rinsing and neutralising were done, I was eager to see the result. I watched the rods collect in a bowl as Liz took them out, feeling the weight on my head lessen. After the final rinse, she gently blotted the curls and brought me back to the hallway.

When she removed the towel, the top of my hair was dark and close to my head while wet, but the curls were already there: small, dense coils across the crown and front.

“Oh my god,” I said. “They look so springy.”

Liz smiled. “Wait until they’re dry.”

She worked a little product through the curls, avoiding the tapered sides, then began drying the top with the diffuser. Gradually, the copper brightened and the curls lifted. She dried the short sides with her hands, keeping them neat and close to my head.

I watched without speaking, beginning to smile as the shape came into focus.

When she switched off the dryer, the curls sat high and full through my crown, with enough movement at the front to make the style feel soft rather than severe. A few tiny coils rested along the top of my forehead. There was no parting.

Below them, my ears were clear. The smooth copper taper ran around them and down to a short, clean nape, so that the curls seemed to sit on top of the cut rather than take it over.

Liz held up a second mirror.

From the back, the curls were compact and textured through the crown, then stopped cleanly above the clipped nape. I turned my head from side to side, looking at the whole thing together.

It was not an all-over perm I had previously expected. It was a short haircut with a mass of tight copper curls where the longer hair had been.

“I absolutely love it,” I said.

Liz lowered the mirror. “Have a feel.”

I touched the side first. The taper was soft beneath my fingertips, close enough for me to feel the shape of my head beneath it. Then I pressed gently into the curls above. They gave under my hand and sprang back when I lifted my fingers away.

“It feels completely different.”

“It is completely different.”

She removed the cape and talked me through the aftercare: curl cream through the top, diffuser rather than brushing, and a little paste only if the taper needed tidying.

“Don’t pull the curls apart,” she said.

“I’ll try not to.”

“You will. You’ve waited a month for them.”

After receiving more advice about how to look after my new array of curls, it was mid-afternoon when she left.

I thanked her at the door, made a late lunch, then went upstairs to look again before I had finished eating. The style was still exactly as Liz had left it. I smiled at myself and sent her a message.

Still smiling. Thank you.

——

It was getting dark by the time I dressed. I put on the black dress, fastened the pearl studs instead of my usual hoops and added the short string of pearls. The neckline was simple, and I liked how clear my face and neck looked beside the close sides and copper curls.

I did my usual make-up and added the red lipstick I wore for evenings. My hair was already finished. There was nothing to tie back, smooth down or tame.

At ten to six, Nick messaged to say he was nearly home. I turned on the sitting-room lamp and sat down, keeping half an ear on the driveway.

When his key turned in the door, I got up to meet him.

“Hello, love,” his voice came from the hallway. “I managed to get away before—”

He looked up from putting his bag down and saw me through the living room doorway, and his sentence stopped.

For a moment, he only looked at me.

“Happy birthday,” I said.

“Nat.”

There was a small pause before he smiled. His eyes moved over the curls at my crown, then the close sides and back to my face.

“I thought Liz was just giving you a tidy up.”

“That was the idea.”

“You left out quite a lot.”

I laughed. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“You have.”

He lifted his hand, then stopped. “Can I?”

“Of course.”

I tipped my head slightly towards him. His fingertips settled carefully into the curls above my ear. He let them rest there for a moment, then his palm moved over the short taper beneath them.

The look on his face was not difficult to read. He was trying to take it in without making too much of it, and I loved him for that almost as much as I enjoyed what I had done.

“They’re soft,” he said quietly.

“The curls?”

“All of it.”

I turned my head so he could see the side properly.

“I didn’t want it to be a whole head of curls,” I said. “I wanted to keep my neck velvety.”

“It makes the curls look even better.”

“How good?”

He met my eyes again.

“Very good.”

I put my hands against his chest. “I’m pleased you like it.”

“I love it, Nat.”

I leaned up to kiss him. He drew me closer, his hand warm at the back of my neck, just below the curls. I could feel a bulge as I leant in for another kiss.

When we drew apart, he glanced towards the clock.

“I’d better get freshened up.”

“Your shirt’s on the bed.”

He kissed me once more before going upstairs. I checked that I had my keys and lipstick, then followed a few minutes later to put on my shoes.

He was fastening his shirt when I came into the bedroom. I straightened the edge of his collar where it had folded underneath, then smoothed the front of it with both hands.

His hand settled at my waist.

“Thank you for my suprise, love.”

I kissed his cheek. “You’re welcome.”

Downstairs, he helped me into my coat, lifting the collar carefully over the close nape. I picked up my bag while he checked his phone for the taxi.

“They’re outside.”

I turned off the hall lamp and waited while he opened the door. Before we stepped out, he reached for my hand.

“Ready, my curly surprise?”

“Yes.” Smiling at what he’d just said.

I squeezed his fingers, and we stepped out together.

To Be Continued