Red Bob
By the time the last Saturday of the month arrived, it had been a few weeks since Liz had taken my hair from its strawberry blonde to a lighter, champagne shade.
I’d spent much of that time wondering how much lighter we could go.
After I had made myself a coffee, I opened up Pinterest on my phone the umpteenth time. I would often spend my evening venturing down a blonde hair wormhole search.
My current colour had settled beautifully, and my curls were still holding their shape l, but the short sides had begun to look a bit shaggy. I was really looking forward to having them tidied up, particularly as I’d decided I wanted them shorter than ever.
Nick had noticed me examining them over breakfast that morning.
“Are you having it cut shorter again?” he asked, watching as I pushed my fingers up through the hair above my ear.
“Just the sides. They’ve grown out so much.”
“They still look pretty short to me.”
“That’s because you’re not the one wearing them,” I laughed. “I’m thinking of having Liz take them right down this time.”
He smiled. “And the colour?”
“I still want to see how light she thinks we can get it.”
“There’s not much blonder you can get, surely?”
“You’d be surprised.”
He reached across and gently touched one of the little curls at the front.
“Well, I still like these.”
“So do I. I’m not getting rid of them.”
I was beginning to love the contrast between the soft, tightly curled top and the closely clipped sides. The shorter Liz cut them, the more I seemed to like the overall shape.
——
After Nick had left to go to the match, I quickly got myself ready as Liz was scheduled to arrive for ten.
It had been raining heavily since I’d woken up. Water streamed down the kitchen windows, and the lawn was beginning to look distinctly waterlogged. I’d switched on the lights over the island despite it being the middle of the morning.
I cleared the kitchen, set out the usual chair and made sure there was plenty of tea.
I made myself another cup of coffee and glanced at the clock. It was nearly ten, and the rain showed absolutely no sign of easing.
As I went to take a sip, the doorbell rang.
—-
Liz stood on the doorstep in a stylish deep burgundy raincoat, belted neatly at the waist. Rain beaded across its shoulders and ran from the edge of the generous hood she’d pulled well forward over her head. Her smiling face was just about visible beneath it.
“Morning! Lovely day for it.”
“Come in, quickly. You’re getting soaked!”
She stepped inside, a black bag hanging from her shoulder and her silver equipment case in one hand. I closed the front door against the rain.
“Honestly, it’s absolutely throwing it down,” she said, laughing as she put her case down beside the console. “I was only parked across the road, and I’m drenched.”
“I know. It’s been like this all morning. Here, let me take your coat.”
She slipped the bag from her shoulder and began unfastening the belt of her raincoat.
She unfastened the belt, then reached up and pushed back her hood.
“Oh my God, Liz! Your hair.”
She turned towards me, grinning.
“I thought that might get a reaction!”
I stared at her, my mouth practically hanging open.
The blonde curls she’d been wearing pinned up at our last appointment had completely disappeared.
In their place was the most gorgeous little peach-pink pixie-mullet.
The top was short and beautifully textured, with little choppy, almost spiky layers running through the crown. A tiny, uneven fringe sat high across her forehead, while the sides were cut close around her ears. The colour was extraordinary, a mixture of warm peach, dusty rose and coppery pink, with slightly darker roots giving it even more depth.
“I’d never have imagined you’d got short.”
“Neither did I.”
“I absolutely love it!”
“Do you?”
“Of course! Look at you!”
She was beaming now, clearly enjoying my reaction.
“I fancied something different.”
“Different? You’ve practically got a whole new head of hair!”
She laughed again.
“Wait until you see the back better.”
She turned slightly, letting me look at the side before angling her head so I could see the back properly.
And there it was.
The short, tousled crown gave way to longer, feathered layers at the nape, with little peach-coloured pieces flicking out against her neck. It was unmistakably a mullet, but a very soft, feminine version, with plenty of texture and movement.
“Turned out a little more mullet than I’d originally planned.”
I leaned closer to inspect the cut.
“I love these little wispy bits at the back. And how short you’ve gone around your ears!”
“It’s quite a change, isn’t it?”
“Quite a change? You look fabulous!”
She turned back towards me, smiling.
“Thank you. I must admit, I’m rather pleased with it myself.”
I reached up and gently lifted a section of hair that had been flattened by her hood.
“Has the rain squashed it a bit?”
“Probably. I was wondering what state it would be in by the time I got here.”
“Just a little on this side. There.”
I gave the short layers a playful ruffle with my fingertips.
“Honestly, Liz, it really suits you. And that colour!”
“It’s a bit brighter than my usual blonde, isn’t it?”
“Just a bit!”
We both laughed.
I finally took her raincoat and hung it on one of the hallway hooks.
Underneath she was wearing a soft mauve blouse tucked into a black leather skirt with a wide belt, sheer black tights and her usual gold jewellery. The outfit worked beautifully with her new hair.
I couldn’t stop looking at her.
“Seriously, I need to hear the whole story behind this.”
“I had a feeling you might.”
“Well, you can’t turn up looking like that and expect me not to ask questions!”
She grinned as she collected her bag and equipment case.
“Come on, then. I’ll tell you all about it.”
I led her through to the kitchen, still glancing back at her hair as we walked.
“Tea first,” I said. “Then you’re telling me everything. Who did it, what made you decide on a mullet, and how on earth you ended up that colour.”
Liz laughed.
“That’s quite a few questions.”
“And I’ve got plenty more!”
She placed her case beside the island and pulled out one of the stools.
“Well, put the kettle on, then. This might take a while.”
——
By the time I handed Liz her mug, she’d pushed her sleeves up and settled herself comfortably at the island.
Outside, the rain was coming down just as hard.
“So,” I said, sitting beside her. “What happened to all those curls?”
“They went on Roxy’s kitchen floor.”
“Well, I’d gathered that much. But why?”
Liz laughed and took a sip of tea.
“I enjoyed having my hair like that, Natalie. I really did. Having it permed was an eye opener.”
I smiled.
“But you fancied a change?”
“Yes. Although I’d been thinking about it for a little while before I had tried the perm.”
She touched the short layers above one ear.
“I kept seeing cuts I wanted to try. Short fringes, little mullets, different colours. I’d been saving the odd picture, then another one, and eventually I had a whole collection on my phone.”
“That sounds familiar.”
“I thought it might.”
She glanced at my champagne curls.
“Having my hair permed made me realise how much I enjoy having something different. For years, I’d spend all day helping other people change their hair, then go home with more or less the same long blonde hair I’d had for ages.”
“You changed the shade now and then.”
“A slightly different blonde. Very daring.”
“I wasn’t exactly adventurous myself.”
“No, you certainly weren’t.”
We both laughed.
“I suppose I want to be a bit more expressive with it now,” she continued. “If I fancy a short fringe, I want to try a short fringe. If I like a colour, I want to see what it looks like on me.”
“Even what you’ve got now?”
“Especially the peach.” She said, fingering her mullet tail.
She was smiling into her mug.
“Under normal circumstances, I’d have stayed curly. It’s just that I found myself wanting to try this as well.”
“And once you’d found the picture, that was that?”
“More or less. Although Esteban said something a couple of weeks ago that rather stayed with me.”
“Oh?”
“We were looking through some of the pictures on my phone. He asked whether I was thinking of having another change, and I said I might be.”
“And?”
“He told me he was enjoying seeing me change my hair.”
I looked at her.
“Did he?”
“Yes. He said he likes seeing what I’ll do next. Apparently, I get quite animated when I’m talking about a new idea.”
“You do.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s quite endearing.”
“Well, he seems to think so.”
She turned her mug slowly between her hands.
“He was interested in the actual haircuts, too. He asked which bits I liked and whether I’d keep it blonde. Most men would have nodded politely and hoped I’d put the phone away.”
“Nick’s become quite good at looking at haircut pictures.”
“He’s had plenty of practice.”
“He has.”
Liz hesitated, then gave me a slightly conspiratorial smile.
“I’ve been wondering whether Esteban might find it a bit of a turn-on.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“The changing your hair?”
“Yes.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, there’s being interested, and then there’s being very interested.”
I laughed.
“Go on.”
“When I showed him the picture of this cut, he wanted to see it properly. The front, the sides, the back. He asked how short I was thinking of having it. Then, when I said I’d booked the appointment with Roxy, he tried to hide his excitement.”
“That could just mean he listens to you.”
“It could. And I like that about him anyway.”
She took another sip of tea.
“But you should have seen his face last night.”
“You hadn’t told him what you’d had done?”
“I told him I was having it cut. I didn’t send him a picture afterwards, and I hadn’t mentioned the peach.”
“So he got the full surprise.”
“He did. He opened the door, looked at me and just smiled. Then he put his hands round my waist and asked me to turn my head so he could see the sides.”
“And the back?”
“Of course the back.”
I laughed.
“He kept touching these little bits here.”
She brushed the feathered ends at her nape.
“Very gently. As though he was still working out how much had gone.”
“That does sound rather enthusiastic.”
“It was.”
She looked pleased at the memory.
“Have you asked him?”
“Whether haircuts turn him on? Not quite so directly.”
“You’re going to have to now.”
“Oh, I might. I’m enjoying wondering for the moment.”
“And how do you feel about the possibility?”
Liz’s smile widened.
“Rather good, actually.”
“I thought you might say that.”
“I like knowing he’s interested. And if he finds it exciting when I turn up with a different haircut, I’m certainly not going to complain.”
I looked again at her peach crown.
“Would you have chosen this one anyway?”
“Oh, yes. It was one of the first pictures I saved. I loved the little fringe and the shape at the back.”
She lifted a piece of it between her fingers.
“Knowing he liked the idea made it even more fun. But I was already imagining myself with it.”
“And the colour?”
“All mine. I spent ages looking at shades. I wanted something warm, and I kept coming back to peach.”
“It works beautifully with that blouse.”
“I may have planned that.”
“I suspected as much.”
Liz laughed.
There was something especially cheerful about her that morning. She was enjoying the haircut, the clothes, the new glasses, and the fact that somebody else was taking such an interest in all of it.
“It’s nice hearing you sound so happy,” I said.
She glanced at me, her expression softening.
“I am. I’m having a lovely time.”
“With Esteban?”
“With him. With my friends. Work’s busy. I’ve got things to look forward to.”
“That’s good.”
“It is.”
She took another sip before adding, “Craig and I got into such a rut towards the end. We hardly talked about anything beyond what needed doing. I’d forgotten how nice it is to have someone ask a question because they actually want to hear the answer.”
I nodded.
“And I like being able to say what I think,” she continued. “Even if it’s only that I’ve seen a ridiculous haircut I rather fancy.”
“I wouldn’t call this ridiculous.”
“No. But you haven’t seen all the other pictures.”
“Should I be worried?”
“Probably.”
We laughed again.
I leaned a little closer to examine her crown.
“Although I was wondering how you managed to get it so straight after that perm.”
“Most of the permed length went when it was cut. There’s still some movement in the longer bits, but I can blow-dry it into place and finish it with a little paste.”
“So it isn’t completely straight underneath?”
“No. If I leave it alone, the back gets quite flicky. I rather like that too.”
She put down her mug and stood.
“Anyway, enough about my hair. You’re the one who’s supposed to be having it done today.”
——
I settled into the chair while Liz unpacked her equipment.
I took out my earrings and put them safely on the counter. She fastened the charcoal cape around my neck, then began examining my curls, lifting sections around the crown and checking the ends.
“Well, you’ve looked after this beautifully.”
“I’ve been very good.”
“For once.”
“Cheek!”
She gently stretched one of the curls before letting it spring back.#
“The elasticity’s still good, and it feels nicely conditioned.”
“I’ve been doing exactly what you told me.”
“I can tell.”
This would be my third lightening appointment. Although I’d been impatient to reach the brightest blonde we could manage, neither of us wanted to damage the perm.
“I’m aiming for a very light, creamy blonde today,” Liz explained. “We’ll take out more of that gold, but I still want it to look soft. I’ll see how the hair responds before deciding how far we can go.”
“That sounds perfect.”
She moved around to examine the growth above my ears.
“These sides have come on, haven’t they?”
“Too much, if you ask me. I’ve decided I want them shorter this time.”
Liz looked at me.
“Go on, then. What are you thinking?”
“A Grade one.”
“That’s considerably closer than we’ve been taking them down to.”
“I know. I love the curls on top, but I want more contrast between them and the sides.”
She lifted a section at my temple, considering the shape.
“That would work. We can keep enough length through the crown for the curls to form properly, then take the sides and nape right down.”
“I want my ears completely clear.”
“They certainly will be.”
She let the section fall back into place.
“I’ll soften the join here so the curls sit neatly above the clipped part. You’ll have a lovely shape from the side.”
“Exactly what I had in mind.”
“All right. Colour first, then we’ll sort out the haircut.”
She picked up her comb and began dividing my hair into sections.
“Let’s see if we can finally get you to that blonde you’ve been after.”
——
The rest of the morning passed pleasantly enough.
Having checked how a small test section responded, Liz worked carefully through the remaining warmth, keeping a close eye on the condition as she went.
The rain settled into a steady drumming against the windows. Occasionally, a gust drove it harder against the glass, and one of us would glance towards the garden.
“I’m very glad you come to me,” I said.
“I’m beginning to think I should have brought a boat.”
“At least your hair stayed dry.”
“That coat was worth every penny.”
We chatted about work, her recent evenings out with friends and how busy she’d been with appointments.
“Esteban’s taking me out again next weekend,” she mentioned while adjusting one of the clips.
“Anywhere nice?”
“He hasn’t told me. Apparently, it’s a surprise.”
“And you’re letting him keep it a secret?”
“For now.”
I smiled.
Things were obviously going well between them, although Liz wasn’t making any grand predictions about where the relationship might lead.
“We’re still getting to know each other,” she said. “I’m enjoying it, and that’s enough for now.”
“And all this attention from a younger man isn’t doing your confidence any harm, I imagine.”
“Not in the slightest.”
“Still enjoying being a cougar, then?”
She burst out laughing.
“Oh, shut up.”
She shook her head and returned to the colour.
“Careful, or I’ll start charging you extra.”
We carried on talking while she worked, stopping for more tea when there was a suitable moment.
As the morning drew towards lunchtime, she became more focused on my hair, checking its progress and watching how the curls were responding.
I was tempted to ask how much longer we’d be, but I knew better than to rush her.
Eventually, she nodded to herself.
“That’s enough. Let’s get this rinsed.”
At the sink, she rinsed everything thoroughly and completed the colour treatment before applying conditioner.
I could feel her checking the little curls as she worked it through.
“How are they?”
“Still good.”
“That’s reassuring.”
“They do feel good, Natalie. Let’s get you dry so we can have a proper look.”
——
Back in the chair, Liz gently blotted my hair with a towel before beginning to dry it.
She worked patiently, encouraging the curls back into shape and separating any that had settled together. As the moisture disappeared, the new colour began to show.
The deeper champagne and pale gold of my previous appointment had lifted to a much lighter, creamy blonde. The most exposed curls looked almost white beneath the kitchen lights, while a little pale champagne warmth remained in the depths.
It was soft and bright, without a silver or grey cast.
I reached for my phone and opened the camera.
“Oh, Liz.”
She glanced at the screen.
“What do you think?”
“That’s it. That’s the blonde.”
I tilted my head, watching the light catch the individual curls.
Even before the cut, I could see how different it looked. The little spirals stood out clearly against one another, pale edges surrounding the slightly deeper colour within each curl.
Liz smiled.
“I’m pleased with that.”
“So am I.”
“We’ve kept a little warmth in it, which suits your skin. And the curls are still behaving.”
“They look lovely.”
“They’ll look better once I’ve tidied the shape.”
I examined the colour for another moment before putting down my phone.
“Right. Let’s get those sides sorted.”
Liz picked up her scissors.
“Crown first.”
She worked around the top, trimming the ends and refining the outline without taking away the length the curls needed.
The shape became more compact as she went. Small, springy corkscrews settled closely together across the crown, their ends turning into clearly defined little loops.
She shortened a few pieces at the front, then let them fall and checked them again. The curls sat irregularly above my hairline, with a little more movement towards one side.
She turned my head gently and checked the profile.
The top was full, but she’d brought it close enough to my head to feel like a proper short crop again.
When she was satisfied, she put down the scissors and picked up her clippers.
“Grade one, then.”
I nodded.
She fitted the guard and switched them on.
The familiar buzz filled the kitchen as she started at the nape, guiding the clippers upwards and removing the month’s growth in a series of careful passes.
I could feel the difference almost immediately.
The longer hair disappeared beneath the guard, leaving a fine covering much closer to my scalp than I’d been used to. Cool air reached the freshly clipped area when she lifted the clippers away.
Liz worked across the back before moving around my right ear.
She folded it gently forward and guided the clippers around the hairline, clearing the growth at the temple and above the sideburn.
Pale clippings collected on the charcoal cape.
“Still happy?” she asked.
“Very.”
She continued around the other side, taking everything down to the same three millimetres.
When she brushed her fingers over the clipped area to check it, I could feel how little hair there was left to move.
She refined the transition beneath the curls, keeping the sides close while allowing the top to follow the curve of my head. There was no heavy shelf above my ears; the shorter curls at the edges settled neatly into the shape.
Finally, she returned to the nape, checked both sides and switched off the clippers.
“There we are.”
She brushed the loose hair from my neck.
I reached out from beneath the cape and used my phone to see the results.
“Oh, that’s short.”
“You did ask.”
“I know. I like it.”
The fine hair offered a soft resistance against my palm, particularly when I rubbed upwards against the direction of growth.
I moved my hand into the curls above. They felt springy and substantial by comparison, even though there was so little length left.
“That’s exactly the difference I wanted.”
Liz made a couple of final adjustments, separating a curl at the front with her fingers and checking the back once more.
Then she removed the cape.
“Finished. Go and have a proper look.”
——
I stood and went over to the larger mirror in the hallway.
For a moment, I simply looked.
My hair was a very bright, creamy blonde, with a full crown of small, distinct corkscrew curls above closely clipped sides.
The curls caught the light along their edges, almost ivory in places, with a soft champagne depth beneath. Each little spiral was visible. A few fell forward irregularly at the hairline, giving the front some movement without forming a conventional fringe.
My ears were completely exposed.
At the temples, the fine blonde covering lay close enough for the shape of my head to show clearly. The sides and nape were even and neat, with just enough softness at the join for the curls to sit naturally above them.
I turned my head.
The profile was sharper than it had been that morning. With the sides taken down, the curls seemed more prominent, although Liz had actually made the crown smaller and tidier.
She came to stand beside me.
“Well?”
“That’s exactly what I wanted.”
I turned the other way, then lifted my hand to the side again.
“I love how close this is.”
“It suits the shape. And it makes the colour on top stand out beautifully.”
The pale blonde looked lovely against my skin. With my ears clear and the sides so short, I could see more of my face than I’d been used to, even with the previous crops.
“I think this might be my favourite length for them.”
“Well, you’ll need to maintain it if you want to keep that contrast. Three millimetres grows out quickly.”
“I’ll manage.”
“And keep up with the conditioning. Your hair’s had quite a bit of processing now, so be gentle with those curls.”
“I will. You’ve spent three appointments getting me here. I’m certainly not going to ruin it.”
“Good. And no more lightening for a while.”
“I don’t think I need any.”
Liz looked at our reflections and nodded.
“No. I think we’ve got you there.”
——
By the time we returned to the kitchen, it was early afternoon.
The rain hadn’t eased. The garden looked thoroughly soaked, and water was spilling steadily from the edge of the patio.
Liz began packing away her equipment while I made us another cup of tea.
She was putting the clippers into their case when she looked over at me.
“Do you know what’s funny, Natalie? Think about what we both looked like when I first started cutting your hair.”
“That was nine years ago.”
“I know. Nine years of me turning up with my long blonde hair to trim that great thick copper mane of yours. And heaven help me if I took more than an inch off.”
I laughed.
“You were always very good about that.”
“I had to be. You’d never have forgiven me.”
She closed the case and glanced at my closely cropped sides.
“And now look at us. You’ve got about two inches of curls left on top, and I’m standing here with a pixie cut and mullet.”
“Neither of us would have believed it a year ago.”
“Certainly not.”
She accepted her tea and sat down again.
“I used to spend longer drying my hair than this whole haircut takes to do in the morning.”
“And I used to plan washing mine around whether I had time to deal with it afterwards.”
“Exactly.”
I ran my fingers lightly over the side of my head.
“I do like having less of it.”
“I’d noticed.”
“Although I’m keeping these.”
I touched the curls.
“For now,” Liz said.
“Definitely for now.”
She smiled.
“You’re only another couple of inches away from a full buzzcut.”
“Don’t give me ideas.”
“Well, I could probably lose a little more of this myself.”
I looked at the feathered ends against her neck.
“Already thinking about another haircut?”
“Not seriously. I only had this done yesterday.”
“That didn’t sound terribly convincing.”
“I’m allowed to look at pictures.”
“Of course you are.”
She grinned.
“And I’m rather enjoying this one. I haven’t even worked out all the different ways I can wear it yet.”
“I’ll look forward to seeing them.”
We finished our tea chatting about the coming week.
When Liz stood to leave, I went ahead to fetch her raincoat. It was still damp along the hem.
She slipped on the coat and fastened the belt.
“I was hoping that might have stopped by now,” she said, looking at the rain hitting the kitchen window.
“So was I.”
“At least I’m prepared.”
She settled the hood over her peach hair. The transformation disappeared beneath it again, leaving only her smiling face visible.
I opened the door, and the sound of the rain grew louder.
She reminded me to look after the colour and make sure I text her when I needed a quickly trim before the sides grew out too much.
“Yes, I will.”
She laughed and gave me a quick hug.
“See you soon, Natalie.”
“Have a lovely weekend. And mind the puddle by your car.”
“I’ve already met that one.”
I watched her make her way across the road, her hood bowed slightly against the rain, then went back inside.
——
With the kitchen back to normal, I went upstairs to freshen up.
I put my gold hoops back in and gave my curls a quick adjustment.
They hardly needed anything. A little lift with my fingertips, a curl at the front encouraged back into place, and that was it.
Even in the dull afternoon light, the colour looked beautifully bright. The soft creaminess was still there, and the closely clipped sides made every little corkscrew above them stand out.
I took a couple of photographs on my phone, including one from the side, then went downstairs to make myself another coffee.
The rain had made going out distinctly unappealing. I was quite content to stay in, with the kitchen warm and my hair finally looking the way I’d imagined.
——
Nick arrived home later that afternoon.
I was sitting at the island when I heard the front door open, followed by the sound of him shaking out his jacket.
“Hello!”
“In here!”
“Give me a minute. I’m dripping everywhere.”
He appeared in the kitchen shortly afterwards, running a hand through his damp hair.
“How was the match?” I asked.
“Wet. Very wet.”
“That good?”
He laughed, put down his keys, then looked at me properly.
“Well, I have a truly blonde wife now.”
“Finally!”
He came closer, studying the colour.
“It’s almost white round the top.”
“It’s a very bright blonde. There’s still a little warmth in it.”
“It looks lovely.”
“Thank you.”
He moved slightly to one side.
“And you’ve had the sides taken right down.”
“A Grade one.”
He ran his fingertips lightly over the side of my head, then moved behind me and brushed his hand upwards against the short bristles at my nape.
“Blimey. That’s feels close.”
He did it again, a little more slowly.
“Feels lovely, though.”
“Doesn’t it? I’ve been touching it all afternoon.”
He smiled, examining the contrast between the short sides and my little blonde curls.
“Liz has done a lovely job.”
“She has. I’m really pleased with it.”
——
By early evening, the rain was still falling steadily against the windows.
We’d decided to stay in and make dinner together.
I was standing at the kitchen island slicing cucumber for a salad. Nick had opened a bottle of white wine, and I had a glass beside the chopping board.
He came around the island and stopped behind me.
“I’m still getting used to that haircut.”
I felt his hand settle against the back of my neck. He brushed his fingertips upwards over the freshly clipped nape, stopping where the little blonde curls began.
I laughed, setting the knife down.
“Go on, feel it properly. Go upwards with your hand.”
He ran his fingertips over the side of my head.
“Oh, that’s lovely. Like velvet one way and sandpaper the other.”
“Exactly!”
He smiled, gently brushing his thumb against my neck.
“I can see why you like it.”
I turned towards him.
“And you?”
“I think you look gorgeous.”
I slipped my arms around his waist as he cupped the side of my face, his fingers resting against the freshly shaved hair.
He leaned in and kissed me.
When we parted, he glanced towards the chopping board.
“Are we actually having dinner tonight?”
“Eventually.”
He laughed and gave my neck one final affectionate stroke before returning to the other side of the island.
I shook my head, smiling to myself.
I had a feeling he was going to enjoy this haircut almost as much as I did.
——
Later that evening, I was getting ready for bed when Nick came into the bedroom.
I’d changed into my black satin dressing gown, loosely tied over my lace-trimmed nightwear.
“Still admiring your hair?” he asked.
“Can you blame me?” I laughed
“Not really.”
He gently touched the little blonde curls at the front.
“Are you pleased you went blonde?” I asked.
“I liked the copper, you know that.”
“I know.”
“But this really suits you. Especially with the sides so short.”
I smiled.
“Do you think you’ll keep it like this for a while?” he asked.
“I think so. I’ve finally got it exactly how I want it.”
“Not tempted to go any shorter?”
I laughed, as I rested against him for a moment, thinking back over the day.
Liz’s wonderful new peach-pink mullet, all our chatting over tea, the excitement of seeing my hair turn its palest blonde yet, and Nick’s reaction when he’d come home.
I’d spent months gradually moving away from the copper-red hair I’d worn for so much of my life.
Now I had the bright blonde curls I’d wanted, with the sides cut closer than ever.
I ran my palm over one temple again, then lifted my fingers into the little blonde spirals.
For once, there was absolutely nothing I wanted Liz to change.
At least, not yet.
To Be Continued
