‘Can I look?’ I asked, feeling my stomach leaping, wanting to know what my face looked like.
‘After Margaret’s pinned your hair.’
Margaret approached with a cardboard strip of kirby grips, the paddle brush and a determined gleam in her eye.
‘You’re gorgeous,’ she exclaimed, removing the rollers with gentle cool hands.
She twisted and pulled on strands of hair, winding them into curls and securing them in place. Fussing, she removed one or two before beginning the process again. Paula was sitting opposite me, champagne glass in hand, telling me about Arnold from her aqua aerobics class who had appeared in the ladies’ changing room, blaming his dementia.
‘I’m nearly done, Paula, time to get the dress.’
Dress?
My eyes rounded once more as Paula reached behind and unzipped a clothing bag. ‘Close your eyes and no peeking.’
I stood up, following her instructions, stepping into a pool of material before I felt the dress move over my body, arms inside, buttons being fastened at the back. For a moment I was enfolded in a familiar scent of mint and then it passed just as quickly.
‘You can open your eyes,’ Paula said, as I felt both women move away.
I found them standing in front of me, heads tilted as they stared at me: silent.
‘What?’ I said, feeling a little paranoid, one hand to my hair.
‘Turn around and see.’ Margaret had carried through the full-length mirror that usually stood in our bedroom.
I had turned and blinked and exclaimed, ‘I can’t . . . ’ A hand went up to my mouth.
‘Don’t smudge the lipstick,’ Paula called out, immediately forcing my hand down.
I couldn’t believe the transformation. I looked like I had stepped off the set of an old black and white film. I was wearing the dress that had belonged to Grandma, the dress I had admired in the bedroom when we had cleared out her things. The dusky rose pink warmed my skin, and I moved slowly, careful not to snag any of the tiny beads sewn into the bodice. The floor-length chiffon skirt made me feel like a fairy queen but a really good one in a classy production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. It was overkill and I felt the buzz of excitement as to where we were headed.
Margaret had pinned my hair into a low side bun and I twisted left and right to glimpse rolled curls expertly secured, my long fringe framing my face. Paula’s make-up made my pale blue eyes pop, the red lipstick making my teeth sparkle impossibly white. I grinned at them both staring at my reflection from behind me.
‘I love the winged eyeliner,’ I exclaimed, stepping towards the mirror. ‘And my hair, and this lipstick is gorgeous, this colour is amazing.’
My skin looked luminous and smooth, no more tired eyes and broken veins. The woman in the mirror looked to have had a decent ten hours’ sleep and a facial.
‘Here,’ Paula said, thrusting a pair of cream leather heels at me. ‘This is to complete the look, and once you’re ready, Howard will be outside to take you on to your next surprise.’
I put on the heels and paused to look up at both women, eyes rounded. They looked twitchy with excitement, Margaret breaking into smiles. ‘You look perfect,’ she said, clapping her hands together. ‘Oh, this is just magical.’
Paula rolled her eyes. ‘It is all getting rather Disney round here. I do hope Howard hurries up.’
They were packing up as a horn blasted and I rushed to the window to see Howard in his car in the street below, grinning up at the flat window and waving, something lying on the seat in the back.
‘He’s here!’ Margaret clapped. ‘We’ll let ourselves out, you go on, Lottie.’ She was herding me towards the front door. ‘You really don’t need anything but here’s a shawl – it’s cold outside – a bag with a comb, a couple of items if you need to touch up your face, the lipstick, obviously, and a packet of tissues.’
I allowed her to thrust the shawl and small clutch bag into my hands, feeling confused and elated all at the same time. What was going on? Where was I headed?
I turned to thank the two women, feeling my heart swell at the sight of them. My eyes swam; I knew Grandma would have desperately wanted to be here.
‘Don’t you dare start weeping,’ Paula said crossly, marching forward and forcing me to blink in surprise. ‘You’ll ruin our good work.’ And with