Christine, Claire and the Cousins: Chapter 1

This story is part of an ongoing series, but hopefully makes sense standalone. The previous story is here if you want to read it.

Today

“Ow! Do you have to pull so hard?”

Abigail Thompson winced as the crotchety old hairdresser wound another rod into her short, dirty blonde hair.

“Abigail! Behave yourself!” Edith, her mother, admonished her. “Please carry on, Doris. I want those curls nice and tight.”

Doris tutted. “Just keep your head still, Missy, and let me do my job. The less you moan about it, the quicker we’ll be done.”

“Yeah, Abi, stop moaning.” Her younger sister, Rebecca chipped in, sarcastically. “It’s just a little haircut.”

“And that’s enough of that attitude too, young lady.” Her mother turned to her. “You’re in the chair next, and you’re having the same. I’m fed up of seeing that shaggy mop getting in your eyes and looking so scruffy.”

“I don’t see why it has to be permed, though.” Rebecca muttered, pushing her overgrown fringe back from her eyes. “And I still don’t know why you agreed to it!” She complained to her sister.

“I didn’t know Mum was going to insist on a perm, Bex.” Abigail defended herself. “I just thought Grandma would appreciate us looking a bit smarter for her party.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t have to drag me into it.” Rebecca groused. “I’m twenty-four. I don’t want to look like I’m in my sixties!”

“That’s enough!” Edith insisted. “Grandma wants to see all of her granddaughters with neat and tidy curls for once, so that’s what she’s getting. She’s only going to be ninety once, I can’t believe you’re kicking up such a fuss.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “This is all flippin’ Claire’s fault. If she hadn’t suddenly turned into Little Miss Prim….”

Edith’s lips were set in a tight line as she remembered the last family gathering, for her parents’ wedding anniversary.

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Four months ago

Edith frowned slightly as she looked her daughters over. She always liked them to look presentable for church, and today they were going straight from the service to her parents’ house for lunch, so she felt that a special effort was called for.

She had bought new dresses for Abigail and Rebecca for the occasion, with modestly fitted bodices and lace collars, and pleated skirts falling to mid calf. They had put them on without complaint, though Edith could tell from the eye-rolling that they thought them far too frumpy and old-fashioned.

Ivory tights and low heeled court shoes completed the look, and both girls knew better than to provoke their mother by wearing makeup or nail polish on such an occasion.

The reason for her exasperation was their hair. She had always insisted that it was kept tidy and out of their faces when they were younger, and when they turned 18, both had been persuaded to have what Edith called ‘smart, grown-up haircuts’.

It was, though, a constant battle getting them to keep their hair looking presentable, and despite her reminders to visit the hairdressers before today, neither of them had, and they both had hair hanging untidily over their ears and down their necks. As Edith watched, Rebecca reached up to push her overgrown fringe away from her eyes, and Edith decided that enough was enough. She picked up a large gold can of hairspray and a comb as she walked over to them.

“Muuum! I don’t want hairspray on.” Rebecca shied away.

“Well if you’d had it cut like I asked you to, you wouldn’t need to. Keep still!” Edith forced Rebecca’s hair into a side parting and swept it firmly back from her face, before dousing it with the spray. Rebecca pulled a face, but realised there was no point arguing.

“And you promised me at Christmas that you’d be keeping your hair tidier.” She admonished Abigail, combing and spraying again.

“Um, yeah, sorry Mum. I just kind of, forgot.” She replied, lamely.

“Hmph. I should have made you both appointments to come with me yesterday. You could have had it set, too. Grandma’s always saying she’d like to see you with some curl in your hair.”

“Lucky escape then.” Rebecca muttered under her breath, hoping her mum wouldn’t hear. Edith did, though, and shot her a sharp look.

“I don’t know why you’re so reluctant to have it styled properly. You’d both look very smart with one of Doris’ specials.” She patted her own primly lacquered curls as the girls rolled their eyes.

“Right, that will have to do, I suppose. Into the car with you.”

Edith consoled herself with the thought that she was at least more successful making her daughters presentable than her sister Barbara was. Despite Barbara’s constant efforts, her daughter Claire stubbornly refused to have her long hair cut to anything like a sensible length, and would invariably wear it loose and hanging in her face, even to family functions. Edith fully expected her to turn up later wearing jeans and a hoodie, or else an inappropriately short skirt and a face full of makeup.

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The house had already been full of extended family when they arrived. Edith had bumped into Barbara immediately, and exchanged pleasantries.

“And how is Claire?” She enquired, expecting Barbara to vent her frustrations over trying to get her daughter smartened up for the occasion.

“Oh, she’s around somewhere. You should catch up with her. I’m sure she’ll be pleased to see you.” Barbara gave a mysterious smile and slipped away, leaving Edith rather puzzled.

Edith had made two complete circuits of the house, looking for Claire’s distinctive dishevelled chestnut mane, before giving up and decided to ask Abigail or Rebecca if they had seen her. She spotted them easily enough,but couldn’t work out who they were with, as the lady had her back to Edith. It looked almost like Barbara, but there wasn’t any grey in her neatly set bouffant, and the colour of her jacket was wrong.

As Edith approached, the lady turned slightly and gave her the shock of her life. Her immediate thought was that it was Barbara, but 30 years ago. It took a moment to realise that the smartly dressed young lady with an immaculate shampoo and set was actually Claire. Her jaw dropped.

“Oh, Hello Auntie.” Claire greeted her politely. “Lovely to see you, how have you been?”  She paused. “Er, are you OK?” She continued, as Edith just stared at her.

“Oh, er, yes, I, er, just for a minute, I, er….”

“Oh, you haven’t seen me since I had my hair cut, have you?” She patted her prim curls, smiling. “I was just telling your girls that I really should have done it years ago.”

She turned to Abigail and Rebecca. “A nice short perm is so easy to keep tidy, and I just know how much Grandma appreciates me having a proper shampoo and set.” Claire lectured her cousins with more than just a trace of smugness, as Edith looked on, completely unable to believe her eyes, and not really knowing whether to be delighted or annoyed.

“So, er, when did you…”

“A couple of months ago.” Claire considered. “It was long overdue, really. My boss made it clear that long, messy hair wasn’t appropriate for a professional environment, and if I couldn’t put it up properly, every day, then it would have to be cut. And then, of course, Mum has wanted me to have it neat and tidy for ages.”

“But… permed?” Abigail too was struggling to understand Claire’s dramatic change in attitude.

She shrugged. “I just realised that it was time to grow up, stop acting like a stroppy teenager and show a bit more respect to the family, and especially Grandma. She’s done so much for me, and well, if she’d like to see me with a nice neat little head of curls, then that’s not really asking too much, is it?”

Rebecca rolled her eyes at this, whilst Abigail looked a little guilty. Edith kept her expression carefully neutral. “No, you’re quite right Claire. It’s not too much to ask at all. You look very smart, dear, and your mother must be very proud of you.”

“So, er, what did your boyfriend think?” Rebecca blurted out, eyes wide.

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Today

“Frank? He actually really likes it.” Claire took a sip of her cappuccino and smiled at Christine. Since the chance meeting in the opticians which had led to Claire’s dramatic makeover, they had become firm friends, and regularly met up for a coffee on Saturday mornings.

“I was surprised at how positive he was when I told him that I needed to have it cut short for work.” She continued. ”I think he was just looking forward to me not spending hours faffing with it when we went out! But I didn’t really know what he’d make of the perm.”

“I guess he’s used to it now, though. It’s been what, six months?” Christine reflected.

“Yeah, pretty much. Did I ever tell you how he reacted when he first saw me?” Claire asked. Christine shook her head.

“Well, I’d arranged to meet him for lunch, but I didn’t want to tell him anything before I saw him. In fact, I phoned you as soon as I left the hairdresser’s, didn’t I?”

“Oh yes, so you did.” Christine recalled with a smile.

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Six months ago

“…well, you remember I said that I wanted your Mum to take charge, and just make sure that I got the haircut that I needed?” Claire asked, pressing the phone to her ear.

“I remember,” replied Christine. “She told me this morning that she couldn’t wait to get all those rat’s tails chopped off!”

“Well, she did that alright. Didn’t give me any say, just sat me down and had it all cut off, and then permed!”

Claire certainly sounded a bit shocked, but not actually upset, Christine decided.

“Well, you did say that you wanted the decisions made for you, and she does have definite views on appropriate hairstyles for young women.” Christine replied, a degree of wry amusement in her voice. “She did just the same to me, as soon as I gave her half a chance.”

“I suppose it is what I asked for, and, well, I did need to have it cut for work…”

“Exactly.” Christine reassured her. “I’m sure that you look very smart, and Mrs. McCluskey will be delighted when you turn up to work tomorrow.”

“Yes, it will be nice not to have her nagging me about my hair. And Mum will be over the moon to finally have me looking presentable.” She paused. “I’m just a bit worried about Frank.”

“Your boyfriend? You told him that you were having it cut, didn’t you?”

“Oh, yes, but…. I don’t think he’ll quite be expecting this. I mean, it is rather, well, old-fashioned, and… formal. I really hope that he’ll still want to be seen with me.”

“Oh, I’m sure he will.” Christine insisted. “ And if he doesn’t, that’s his loss. I’m sure there are plenty of men who will appreciate a young lady who knows how to look presentable.”

“Hmmm… I hope you’re right.” Claire paused again. “I suppose your boyfriend doesn’t mind you having a more… traditional hairstyle? That was your boyfriend, in the opticians the other day?”

Christine felt herself blushing slightly. “Jonathan? Um, well, yes, we have just started seeing each other and, well, he hasn’t said much, but I think he actually quite likes me to look tidy and presentable.” She ran her hand up her neatly clipped nape, enjoying the feeling as the very short hair blended into the tightly curled top.

“But he looked really smart himself, though, especially his hair.” Claire pointed out. “Frank does have a tendency to let his hair get rather long and scruffy. You know what boys can be like.”

“Oh, don’t worry! Jonathan is exactly the same. When you saw him, I’d literally just marched him down to the barbers to get him tidied up for a job interview.” She smirked. “He left quite a lot of hair on the floor, but he looked so much better for it. And I got major brownie points from his mum!”

“I’ll bet you did!” Claire nodded. “Frank’s mum made him have a proper short haircut for a family wedding last year. He moaned about it, but he looked really smart. I just wish he’d kept it like that.”

“Well, if you want him smartened up again, I can recommend the barber’s at the end of the high street. I’m sure his mum will be pleased, especially now you’re looking neat and tidy, too.”

“Oh, um, yes, she will. She, uh, was never very keen on my long hair.”

That was something of an understatement, Claire thought to herself. She briefly pictured how handsome Frank had looked at the wedding, in his smart suit, hair cut short and neatly parted, but this was immediately followed by a flash of guilt, as she remembered how disappointed Frank’s mum had been at her appearance. She had ignored the polite requests to dress a little more conservatively, tone her makeup down and have her hair put up, and turned up at the church with a face full of slap, an extremely short skirt and her hair already dishevelled before the service had even started.

Though she wouldn’t have admitted it at the time, she had felt more than a little embarrassed, as everyone else at the wedding, even those around her age, had dressed much more appropriately, the girls in formal dresses with modest hemlines and conservatively styled hair, the boys, like Frank, in suits, hair cut short and neatly combed. She wished now that she had been more respectful towards Frank’s mother, and, come to that, given a little thought to how her appearance reflected on her own family.

She made a mental note to apologise to Frank’s mum next time she saw her, and another one, to have a really good sort out of her wardrobe. It was clear that all her short skirts, skintight jeans and strappy tops would look quite out of place with her short curly perm, and would have to go to the charity shop. She realised that this wouldn’t leave much, so she made a third mental note, to go shopping for some modest, respectable outfits.

“You still there?”

“Oh, sorry Christine, yes, I was miles away. You know, I will tell Frank that he needs a proper haircut. But before I see him, I might need a little retail therapy. I’m thinking that I need a nice, conservative, ladylike frock. Something appropriate for a young lady with a traditional shampoo and set.”

“Ooh, yes!” Christine encouraged her. “Send me a pic when you’ve found one you like.”

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Today

“So, yeah, I was feeling pretty good at that point, and I went into Marks and found a lovely dress, tea length, full skirt – I sent you a picture, didn’t I? But then as I walked to the cafe to meet Frank, I just got more and more nervous. I mean, who has a short, tight curly perm in their twenties? Never mind a shampoo and set! I just really didn’t know what he would think.”

“So how did he react, then?”

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Six months ago

“Oh, er, sorry, that seat’s taken, I’m just waiting for…” Frank’s voice tailed off as his brain struggled to piece together what he was seeing. He had only given the approaching figure a cursory glance, but he was belatedly realising that there was something familiar about the calf-length pleated skirt and primly fastened white blouse. He’d seen Claire wearing an identical outfit a couple of times, but only when her mum absolutely insisted on smartening her daughter up, so surely it couldn’t be…?

He finally raised his eyes to discover a stiffly lacquered bouffant, framing an entirely makeup-free, scrubbed face which undeniably belonged to..

“Claire!” he blurted out, startling her, and attracting a few puzzled glances from the adjacent tables.

“Oh God! You hate it, I knew it.” Claire saw his staring eyes and gawping mouth and sat down despondently. “Look, the set will wash out, ok, and it will look a bit more normal, but, I, er, I’ve had it permed, so it’s going to be really curly, well, for now, anyway, until it grows a bit, and I can straighten it, but, er. Oh why did I do this? I could have just had a normal short haircut, like a bob or something.” She buried her face in her hands and sobbed, suddenly overcome with emotion.

“No, no, it, er. You look really nice, Claire. It was just a bit of a shock, that’s all. It’s OK, you don’t have to, uh…”

She peered up from her hands. “You don’t have to lie to me, Frank. You can tell me it looks awful. I mean, I know I look like Mum, but, you know, it will grow out, in time.”

“Woah, not so fast. Let me have a proper look at you. Sit up, and stop looking like the world’s about to end.” He smiled, handed her a tissue, and she dabbed her eyes.

He spent a few moments taking in Claire’s dramatically changed appearance, leaning one way and the other as she sat tight lipped.

“Well?” She finally demanded, unable to wait any longer.

“It…. It actually really suits you, I think.” He replied, slowly. “I mean, it’s a massive change, but, yeah, I think you look great.” He smiled encouragingly.

“Really? Truly?” She eyed him sceptically.

“Yes.” He insisted. “But more importantly, how do you feel about it?”

“Well….” She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “I was really nervous beforehand, but once it was done, I suppose I felt more relieved than anything else.”

“Relieved?”

“Well, you know that I had to have it cut for work. Mrs. McCluskey has been nagging me about it for ages.”

“Yeah, you said. She really didn’t give you any choice?”

“Not really. I mean, there’s a line in my contract about ‘maintaining a professional appearance’, and even though that’s pretty vague, I’m still on probation, so, you know…”

She pulled a face and hurried on. “And it’s not like she’s the only one. When I worked at the jewellers, Mrs. Simmons was always telling me that I looked a mess, and that hair as long as mine wasn’t appropriate for the workplace.”

“I suppose they may have had a point.” Frank replied, carefully. “And you do look a lot more professional with your hair like that.”

“Thank you.” She smiled for the first time since she’d arrived. “And that’s part of why I felt relieved. But to be honest with you, it was about more than just work.”

She saw his puzzled expression and took a deep breath. “You’ve seen the family photos. Grandma in particular has definite views about how we should present ourselves, and it doesn’t include long, messy hair.

“Me and my cousins were allowed to have it longer as teenagers, but when Abigail turned 18, her mum made it clear that she was expected to have a ‘grown up’ haircut, as she put it. Abi was never one to argue, so she dutifully let her mum take her to have it cut neatly up over her ears, and it’s been short ever since. Rebecca wasn’t quite so compliant, but Aunt Edith put her foot down and insisted that she needed to look respectable for job interviews, and she had it done just the same.”

Claire looked a little embarrassed. “But I was much too vain when I was 18, to even think of having all my hair cut off. When Mum suggested that it was time for me to fall into line, and have a neat and tidy haircut, I had a real strop, and said a few things I probably shouldn’t have done.”

“Oh.” Frank hesitated, “I have heard her nagging you about tidying your hair up, but uh, I hadn’t quite realised…”

“We argue about it a lot more when you’re not there. Every Sunday morning she tries to put a comb through it and get it up and out of my face for church, and any time there’s a big family gathering we have the row again. She’ll tell me how scruffy I look with my ‘rat’s tails’, and how much it would mean to her, and Grandma, if I had a nice, sensible, short haircut. She’d have had it all chopped off years ago, if I’d let her.”

She looked up at him. “I suppose I realised a while back that she, and the rest of the family, had a point, and shorter hair would make sense in a lot of ways, but I’d made such a fuss about not cutting it, that I couldn’t really back down.” She looked a little more embarrassed.

“Ah, OK. It’s all starting to make sense. And Mrs. M’s ultimatum was the, uh, excuse that you needed?”

“Yeah, pretty much… and now it’s done, well, I know I’m going to be looking completely work-appropriate, and Mum’s going to be over the moon, when she sees me!”

“Wait, she doesn’t know?”

“Nope. I thought I’d surprise her.” She smiled. “I’m sorry, Frank, I panicked a bit earlier. I was just really worried what you would think. And I know I told you before that it was for work, but really, it was much more about making a proper, lasting commitment to my family. I want to show that I respect their values, and that I’m putting those values ahead of my vanity.

“So this is me now.” She continued, looking directly at him. “Not a glamorous and fashionable girl any more, but a neat and tidy, conservative young lady. Short curly hair and long pleated skirts, my face scrubbed and my nails cut short. I’m going to be looking smart and respectable for my career, and more importantly, for my family. Are you sure that you want a girlfriend who looks like this?”

Frank realised how serious Claire was. This wasn’t a grudging concession to keep her boss and her mother happy for a while. It was a fundamental shift in how she wanted to present herself to the world. There would be no more short skirts and high heels, no more bright red lipstick and painted nails, and certainly no more long, untidy hair falling over her face.

He was silent for a moment, thinking through what Claire had said, then he smiled at her, a little bashfully.

“Claire, I want you to be my girlfriend. Glam or respectable, long hair or short.” He paused, trying to gauge her reaction. “I know that your family means a lot to you, and I know it must have taken a lot for you to put your vanity aside.”

“Oh Frank! I knew you’d understand. But, uh, you still haven’t told me what you think. What you really think. Do you really want to take me out, if I’m looking like this?”

“Claire, I would be very proud to take you out as a neat and tidy, conservative young lady. I, uh, I really admire the commitment you’ve made to your family, and, um, honestly, you look wonderful. You just seem to be…. content with the decision you’ve made.”

“You know, I think I am.” Claire replied thoughtfully. “Especially now I’ve seen you.”

Frank beamed back at her. “Glad we’ve got that sorted. So, what’s in the bag?” He nodded at the carrier bag at her feet.

“What? Oh, that. I, er, felt like I needed a bit of retail therapy after the hairdressers.”

He raised an eyebrow and she held the bag open so he could see inside.

“It’s a very modest, ladylike frock.” She said, with a twinkle in her eye. “I’m going to have to have a major wardrobe overhaul now, I hope you realise that.”

“Oh, of course.” He nodded. “So when do I get to see you wearing it?”

She considered. “You can take me to Quattro Stagioni on Friday if you want?”

“Great! I’ll…”

“But – ” She cut him off. “If I’m wearing that dress, you need to be in a suit.”

“OK.” Frank rolled his eyes.

“And you need a haircut! I’m not having my boyfriend’s hair longer than mine!” She glared at him in mock severity until he grinned back.

“Yes, OK, that’s fair enough, I suppose.” He eyed up just how short Claire’s hair had been cropped.

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Today

“That must have been quite a relief!” Christine raised an eyebrow as she set down her empty coffee cup.

“Oh, God, yes! I mean, I really don’t know what I’d have done if he’d hated these.” Claire reached up to pat her tight cap of curls. “But when he said he liked them, well, I suppose that’s when I knew they’d be staying.”

“And I hope he did get smartened up properly to take you out?”

“Yep.” Claire grinned. “Suit and tie, and a proper short back and sides, just like he had for his cousin’s wedding. He looks so much more handsome with a proper haircut.”

“Oh I know.” Christine shook her head. “Isn’t it funny how so many boys like to see their girlfriends with proper hairstyles, rather than scruffy mops, but they’re so reluctant to keep their own hair tidy?”

“Frank did have a bit of a moan at first, but he’s actually been quite good about keeping it tidy since then. I think he’s realised that as well as looking much smarter, it’s actually easier if he has it cut regularly.”

“Hmph. I need to get him to have a word with Jonathan. I’ve been nagging him for weeks now to go to the barbers, and I know that his mum has, too.” She frowned. “He’s supposed to be taking me out tonight. I do hope he’ll be looking presentable.”

 

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Also published (with AI illustrations) at https://f35hstories.wordpress.com/