Cut You Dead (Dr. Samantha Willerby Mystery #4) - A J Waines Page 0,76
refined affair to honour the victims of the van collision.
In spite of all the goodwill, it was turmoil behind the scenes, getting everyone dressed in time. Thankfully, I knew exactly who was meant to be wearing what, even though wigs, hats and shoes got completely mixed up. Everyone was in a muddle about the order they were due to come down the stairs, but we did our best.
I was one of the first to parade, so I could go behind the scenes and help with everything. I loved gliding down that luxurious staircase with its silky-smooth gold bannister. The red carpet was soft and spongy, and it was such a thrill to hear everyone break into applause when I came into sight. Mum was right at the front, clapping like a maniac. The harp flourished into a crescendo, the chandeliers sparkled, the cameras flashed.
Once that fateful night was over, the run of bad things didn’t stop. Soon after, I started being followed by someone. Then there was the night at the pop concert. I was in bits when Julia pointed out that someone had snipped my hair off at the back. I was so angry and humiliated, like I’d wet myself, or something. Once I realised what had happened, I had to leave. I was in such a state, I needed to be on my own, away from everyone.
I managed to get an emergency appointment at Giovanni’s that Saturday and he said the best way to rectify it would be to take off all my hair above the collar. I was devastated. With each snip of his scissors, I sobbed my heart out. They gave me tea, then one of the girls ran out and returned with a brandy on ice! How lovely. Everyone was kind, but inside I felt I’d been physically abused. My gorgeous long hair – it’s just… me. It’s who I am. Not this new version, with hair that doesn’t even reach my neck.
Everyone I know had the same reaction after my traumatic ‘restyle’ at the salon. I could see people looking at me, baffled and disapproving. As if they were saying to themselves: What on earth possessed her to ruin her hair like that? Then they snapped plastic smiles on their faces and were overly bright with their compliments. But I know every one of them was fake. Every single one. They hate how I look. I hate it. I hate whoever it was who did this to me.
I’d been doing so well since the collision at the ATM, but it was all too much for me. Mum suggested I go to see the nice therapist again. She said Dr Willerby would help me get everything into perspective. But there was a longer wait than last time. I was offered someone else instead, but I turned it down. I didn’t want to start again with someone new. I like Dr Willerby, so I’ve asked to join her waiting list.
In the meantime, I’ve decided the puppy idea is the right thing for me. I think having something else to love and care for will help me feel better and Mum said she’d look after it when I’m at college. I told everyone on my course I’m on the lookout for a pure-bred beagle and someone even shared it on Facebook. A few days ago, I got a text from someone called Alistair. He said he’s the brother of one of the foundation-year students and he knows a breeder selling puppies off at discount price, because the litter is bigger than they expected.
You’ll need to get in quick, as she’s already sold three, he’d put in his message.
Kennels are near Barnes Bridge train station. Get there tomorrow at 6pm. Mum will come with me after work, so it won’t just be me. I’ll be wearing a denim jacket and my mum’s got ginger hair.
I got straight back to him and it’s all arranged. I’m glad he’s bringing his mother; I would have been wary meeting a bloke I’ve never met before on my own. Especially after what happened with my hair. When I think of that khaki combat jacket, that figure tailing me, I get the shakes and can’t breathe properly. Thank God he seems to have given up. No one’s been hanging around since my hair was hacked off. Doing that must have given whoever it was the stupid thrill they wanted and they’ve got no reason to follow me anymore.