Promoted: Chapter 1

“So, what is this big news then?”

Annabel Davis raised an eyebrow to her husband of six months and allowed a touch of frustration to creep into her voice. Callum had been hinting at something significant for several days now, but insisted that he couldn’t tell her until ‘everything was finalised’. His text message as he’d left work this evening promised that he’d finally let her know what was going on.

Callum smiled broadly, enjoying his moment. “Well, you know that big project I was working on last year?”

“Yeah…?”

“Well, it did way better than anyone had expected, brought in more revenue than any other product we’ve launched in the last five years.”

“Well, that’s great, Cal. I know how much work you put into it. So, are we going out to celebrate?” Annabel shook out her long dark waves, already wondering what she was going to wear.

“Wait, wait, that’s not the news!” Callum waved his hands wildly.

“Oh, ok. So, what then?” Annabel’s frustration was becoming more evident.

“Well, they’ve created, like, a whole new department, to develop spin-offs from the original work, and the guy who ran the project left last month, got head-hunted I guess, so, er, well they’ve asked me to head up the new department!” He beamed with pride.

“Really? Wow! I mean, you’re only like, 23! I mean, that’s really great, but isn’t there, like, someone more experienced?”

Callum grinned. “That’s the thing. This was such a massive departure from what we normally do, there’s no-one more senior with relevant experience. I guess they’re taking a bit of a punt on me, but hey, I’m not complaining.”

“No, no, sure, grab the opportunity!” Annabel’s frustration had vanished in a wash of reflected pride in her beloved.

“So, er, does this mean a big pay rise?” She asked, trying to sound casual.

“Oh, you bet!” Callum’s grin got wider. “Don’t start spending it just yet though!”

“As if!” Annabel retorted in mock outrage. “I do earn a decent wage myself, you know.”

“Yes, yes, I know.” He placated her. “I know you don’t want to be a kept woman.”

“Well…..” She pretended to consider it for a moment, then laughed.

“There is one downside, though.” He grimaced. “It’s going to mean more hours for me, working late, maybe weekends, definitely bringing work home.”

“Really?” She screwed her face up. “How long for?”

“Well, certainly while we’re getting everything set up. Six months or so? After that, well, hopefully things start to get easier.”

“Oh, that’s not so bad. We’ll get through it. I can, you know, do more around the house, let you focus on work till it’s all up and running.”

“Really? You sure?”

“Yes, absolutely. I wouldn’t say it otherwise. Look, we’re a team, right? If you need to do more hours, then I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“Oh, babe, that’s great. I knew there was a good reason that I married you!”

“More than one I should hope!” She feigned outrage again, and then enveloped him in a hug. “I’m really proud of you, you know that?”

He flushed with a mixture of pride and embarrassment. As they separated, Annabel let her hair fall over one eye and looked straight up at him. “Let’s skip going out.” She murmured. “We can just order some pizzas in for after.”

As the words “After what?” started to form on his lips, she took his hand and led him towards their bedroom.

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“Oh God, I’m going to be late again!” Annabel exclaimed in frustration as she dragged the flat iron through her hair.

Things had started to go wrong yesterday, when her boss had asked her to work late. Then the train home had been delayed, and by the time she’d cooked dinner and done a very much needed load of washing, she’d been exhausted and fallen asleep on the sofa.

She’d woken up, groggy, hours later, to find Callum still hunched over his laptop in the spare room. A broken night’s sleep had followed, and she had been unable to get herself going this morning.

“I ought to cut this all off.” She muttered, yanking the straighteners harder. “I don’t know why I bother with it, it’s just an extra hassle that I don’t need.”

“Well, yeah, OK.” Callum glanced up from his phone. “If it’s going to make your life easier, do it.”

“What! I wasn’t serious!” Annabel looked alarmed, then confused. “Do you really think I should cut it off?”

“Oh, er, well, like you said, if it’s more trouble than it’s worth, then, er…. Is that the wrong thing to say?” A concerned frown crossed Callum’s face

“Well…” She struggled to form her thoughts. “it’s just that all the other PA’s always look flawless. Hair perfectly done, heels, makeup. I’ve always tried to keep up with that, to fit in, even if…” She tailed off.

“…even if you felt it wasn’t really you?” Callum suggested, gently.

“Well.. yeah, I guess.” Annabel admitted, slightly ashamed. “It sounds a bit lame, when you put it like that, but it’s not easy, you know, women are constantly judged on their appearance.” She frowned at him, still annoyed.

“Oh yeah, yeah, I get it.” Callum reassured her. “I know it’s harder for women, and I understand that you need to look presentable at work, but surely you could have your hair shorter, if it would make it easier?”

“I’m not talking about having it a bit shorter.” She retorted. “If it’s going to be easier, I’d need to cut it all off, like here!” She held her hands up just below her ears, defying him to say that she should cut off two feet of her hair.

Callum looked at her warily, not quite sure of the right thing to say.

“You, er, you mean like a bob?” He asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

“Um, well, yeah, I guess.” Annabel had been expecting him to be shocked, and he didn’t seem to be.

“And that would make it easier for you? Save you a lot of time in the mornings?”

“Well, yeah, I mean, it would dry in like half the time, and I probably wouldn’t even have to straighten it…”

“So, why not have it cut then?”

“But I’ve always had long hair! Ever since like, primary school! And all the other girls at the office, they….” She stopped, abruptly.

“You don’t have to compete with them.” Callum told her, gently. “If you want to have your hair short, if that works for you, then you should.”

“Well, yes, and, um, I guess a bob could still look, you know, stylish, but.” She paused. “It’s four months now, since you took on the new job. Is there any chance you might be, you know, starting to take it a bit easier soon?” She tried to keep the pleading note out of her voice.

Callum looked apologetic. “I’m really sorry, Annie, but I have to be honest. No, not really. Not for another few months. I mean, I can try to help out a bit more around the house, or maybe we could get someone in, but there are only so many hours in the day, and so much of this stuff – ” he waved his phone in the air “ – that only I can do. I’m really sorry.”

“No, no, I understand.” She nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t want anyone coming into our house, though, it just doesn’t feel right. No. I said I’d do whatever I could to help, and I will.”

She threw down the straighteners and grabbed her hairbrush. “And I’m done with this long hair!”

She yanked the brush savagely through her hair and wound an elastic tightly around it. “It can go in a ponytail for the rest of the week. Then at the weekend, it’s all coming off.” She smiled grimly at Callum.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Rats!”

Annabel shook her head, making her ponytail swing. She should have known, really. It wasn’t reasonable to expect to get an appointment with just a couple of days notice. That was the fourth salon she’d tried, after her usual place told her they couldn’t fit her in for three weeks.

She put her phone down and bent her head back to her work, still quietly enjoying the fact that her hair was, for once, out of her face and not getting in her way. She’d talk to Callum tonight, see what if he had any bright ideas.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Callum frowned.

“Well,” he started, thoughtfully. “I think you’ve got two choices, really.”

“What do you mean?”

“Option one: You wait for two or three weeks, whenever you can get an appointment for.”

“No way. I’ve made my mind up. I want this gone.”

“Then it’s option two: you find somewhere that will take a walk-in.”

“Hmmm. Yeah, I suppose I’ll have to. But what if they screw it up?”

“That’s always a risk, wherever you go. And, whilst I’m hardly an expert,” He grinned, “I’d have thought a bob was a pretty straightforward style. It’s just all the same length, yeah? Surely any competent hairdresser should be able to do that?”

“Well, yeah, I guess.” Annabel still sounded a bit unsure. “Anyway, as long as it’s easy, I’m going to be happy.”

“And as long as you’re happy, so am I.” Callum beamed at her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Annabel eyed the shop front dubiously.

She’d been going to the same hairdresser for years, Sandra at Head Start, who had coaxed her dark brown locks towards her waist, the long layers and subtle highlights ensuring that she always looked on point. Even though she’d often felt slightly intimidated by the ultra-glam salon, she knew that this was how a top PA was supposed to look, and she’d never really thought about going anywhere else.

Walking down the high street she’d found, not really to her surprise, that none of the more up-market places took walk-ins, and both of the chain salons she’d found were packed.

Whilst she was firmly decided that she was going to have her hair cut off, she was still nervous about it, and would have preferred slightly more peaceful surroundings than she could expect from somewhere full of noisy kids and harassed parents.

She had kept walking and finally, just as the shops petered out into houses, she had spotted the sign: Tidy Tresses – Traditional Ladies Hairdressing.

The shop looked like it had been converted from one of the Victorian terraced houses. It certainly wasn’t what she’d been imagining, but whilst it didn’t look modern, it did seem to be reasonably well maintained, and, from what she could see through the lace curtains in the window, it was clean and bright. Best of all, it was empty, apart from what was presumably the proprietor, tidying up in the far corner.

Annabel shrugged. It might look more like the kind of place her mother would go, but surely they could give her a bob? Like Callum said, she didn’t want anything complicated. She strode up to the door and pushed, before she could talk herself out of it.

“Er, hello?”

“Yes, dear? Can I help you?”

“Er, I’d, um. I’d like my hair cut, please?” Annabel found herself unaccountably tongue tied. This was ridiculous. She was a grown woman, she wanted a haircut, why did she feel so helpless?

“You’re in the right place then.” The stout, matronly lady with short grey curly hair sounded a little brusque, but her smile seemed welcoming enough. “I’m Betty, and I’ve been cutting hair for nigh-on forty years.” She gestured Annabel towards the well worn beige vinyl chair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hmph. I don’t see hair this long very often.” Betty grumbled, as Annabel pulled her hair out of its ponytail. “All of my regular ladies keep their hair at a more sensible length.”

She dragged a comb unsympathetically through the long, pampered tresses. Annabel, feeling slightly trapped under the faded pink nylon cape, opened her mouth to reply, but before she could get a word out, the hairdresser ploughed on.

“I know what you young girls are like, though, all terrified of losing too much of these precious locks.” She flicked dismissively at the ends of Annabel’s hair.

“So what is it then, an inch off the ends?” Annabel was sure that she could detect a touch of sarcasm in the question, but resolved to keep her cool.

“Actually,” she began, trying to sound confident. “I need to have it cut short. Something easy, that I don’t have to fuss with? I thought, perhaps, a bob?”

Betty’s eyes widened remarkably and she was – very briefly – rendered speechless.

“A bob?” She repeated. “That will be quite the change for you, young lady.”

“Uh yes, I know.” Annabel suddenly felt butterflies in her tummy. “But, uh, it has to look, you know, uh, I mean.” She paused, tried to collect her thoughts. “I’m a PA, at, uh, quite a prestigious company, so uh, there’s a certain expectation about how we look…”

“Oh, yes, I understand.” Betty, nodding, didn’t let her finish. “Don’t you worry dear. My daughter-in-law was a secretary, too. I know all about office-appropriate looks.” Betty picked up a large silver pair of scissors.

“Oh, er, good, but um, I’m not really a secretary, and, er..”

“Oh, I know they don’t call you that these days, dear. But it comes to the same thing, doesn’t it?” She brought the scissors up level with Annabel’s chin. “No point washing all this, if it’s coming off anyway.”

The scissors closed and a large section of brown, slightly wavy locks slid unceremoniously to the floor. Annabel tried to stifle a gasp. Betty took no notice, just carried on cutting, and in a few moments, the bulk of Annabel’s hair was lying limply on the floor.

“I’ll give you the same cut I always gave my daughter-in-law.” She declared. “Sensible, tidy, and not something that will distract any of the men. That long hair you came in with was much too fancy, if you ask me. I’m not at all surprised that your boss wanted it cut off.”

“Oh! Er, no, that’s not really…”

Betty wasn’t listening, though. She spun the chair around and leant Annabel back so that her head was in the sink. Warm water sluiced over her shorn locks and she decided that it wasn’t worth arguing with Betty. She was getting the fuss-free bob that she wanted, and it really didn’t matter why Betty thought she was having it cut. She tried to relax as Betty’s strong fingers gave her a thorough shampooing.

The rhythmic massaging made it surprisingly easy to unwind, and she found herself slightly dazed as Betty sat her up again, a faded pink towel wrapped around her head.

“Right, let’s get you looking nice and tidy and ready for the office.” Betty briskly towelled Annabel’s hair and ran a comb through it. Annabel smiled faintly as the comb glided smoothly through her hair, without hitting a single knot. That’s one benefit of short hair, at least, she thought.

Her hair was quickly sectioned, the top part clipped up, and she felt Betty’s scissors slide across the back of her neck. They felt very high up.

“Er, how short are you cutting it?” Annabel blurted nervously.

“Short enough so that it stays tidy and off your collar.” Betty replied, a little tartly. “You want to make the right impression when you go back to work, don’t you?”

“Oh, er, yes.” Annabel rolled her eyes. She did start to wonder, though, what kind of reaction would she get, when she walked into the office, her glamorous locks lopped off in favour of a neat, sensible bob? She certainly wouldn’t be fitting in with the rest of the PAs, that was for sure. She was just starting to worry that perhaps cutting a bob wasn’t quite as simple as she’d imagined, and hoped that Betty would leave her still looking stylish, even if she would never be as glamorous as she had been with long hair.

She belatedly started to wonder if this really was the right thing to be doing. Callum’s long hours weren’t going to last forever, and surely she could have just kept sticking it in a ponytail until things got easier? It was far too late for such thoughts though. She watched in the mirror as Betty’s scissors worked their way around, angling upwards towards her left ear.

“Er, Betty. That, er, looks a lot shorter at the front.” Annabel tried not to sound alarmed.

“Yes, of course, dear.” Betty replied, as if she was talking to a child. “I’ve left you some length at the back, but this needs to be short enough to stay out of your face when you’re working.”

Betty moved around to the other side, cutting it to match, leaving both of Annabel’s earlobes exposed. She gulped. Her hair hadn’t been this short since primary school. What was Callum going to think? He’d been all in favour of her getting it cut, but had he really imagined she’d be coming home with such a plain, practical cut as she feared this would be? He’d never seen her with short hair, and she always made an effort to look her best, even now they were married. How would she be able to do that, the way Betty was cutting her hair?

She looked at herself in the mirror. What she saw did nothing to calm her rising panic. Betty had already let down the top section and cut the sides to match, in perfectly blunt lines sloping down to her hairline at the back. As Annabel watched, the final section was combed straight down over her face. She reflexively closed her eyes, and then opened them in shock as she felt the cool metal of the scissors slide across her forehead.

“Er…” Was all she managed to get out before the scissors closed, and a sizable chunk of hair fell to her lap. Betty was between her and the mirror, so she couldn’t see how short her fringe was, but it felt very short. Especially as she hadn’t actually asked for a fringe, and Betty hadn’t seen fit to ask if she wanted one!

“Um.” She managed. “I, er, I haven’t had a fringe since, er, well, I can’t really remember how old I was.”

Betty didn’t bat an eyelid. “Well you’ve got one now.” She replied, matter-of-factly. “I’m taking it up quite short for you, so it will last you a while.”

Sure enough, as Betty moved to one side, Annabel could see that her fringe was sitting half an inch above her eyebrows. As she watched, Betty approached the edge of the section, and allowed it to gradually lengthen until it met the sloping sides. This was quickly repeated on the other side, leaving Annabel with an impeccably neat fringe. She eyed her reflection, not quite sure what to make of this development.

Her musings were interrupted by a roar, as Betty used an elderly hairdryer and a round brush to perform the minimal drying and styling that her new cut needed.

“There you are.” She pronounced. “All neat and tidy and ready for work on Monday.” She gave Annabel a quick blast of hairspray from a big gold can and nodded with satisfaction.

Annabel had to agree, it looked like it would stay neat and tidy no matter what. She gave her head a little shake, and watched everything settle perfectly back into place. It seemed that she had the easy to look after style she wanted, but she hadn’t counted on it looking quite so, well, dated.

She wondered briefly if she could somehow pass it off as ‘vintage’, but she realised that wasn’t going to work. This wasn’t the stylish but practical bob that she had been imagining, instead, it was the kind of plain, sensible cut that women her age simply didn’t wear. Well, not if they were trying to impress anyone, or climb the career ladder, anyway.

Her mind flicked between worrying what Callum would think and the reaction she would get from her colleagues. She couldn’t decide which was going to be worse. She looked again at the mirror, at the suddenly much older and plainer woman staring back at her.

Oh God! What have I done?

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Also published at https://f35hstories.wordpress.com/

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