We tested out Lucia’s claim on Graham’s mum. We were supposed to go straight up to have our wigs adjusted once Hazel, the make-up artist, had finished with us, but instead we slipped down to the kitchen. It was boiling hot in there, with pans simmering on every ring, and there seemed to be hundreds of people rushing in different directions. Sally was barking commands and doing something violent to half a dead animal with a very large cleaver. She did a massive double take when she saw us coming.
“What the…?”
Lucia and Hazel had clearly done a brilliant job, because she didn’t have a clue who we were until Graham mumbled through a mouthful of cotton wool, “It’s me, Mum.”
“Dear God!” Sally dropped the cleaver and it clattered noisily to the floor. “What on earth are you two doing?”
We explained about the bug and Tessa press-ganging us into service.
“That woman’s got a nerve!” said Sally crossly. “Still, at least I won’t have to worry about you getting sunburnt. Or drowned. Or both. I guess it will keep you out of trouble.”
She couldn’t have been more wrong.
Graham’s mum was rushed off her feet, so we left her to it and took ourselves up to the room that Sizal Bouffant, hairdressing supremo, had set up as a temporary salon.
“Cupids!” he exclaimed ecstatically as we appeared in the doorway. “Darlings, how absolutely delicious you look. Straight out of Botticelli!”
“Where’s Botticelli?” I whispered to Graham.
“Not where,” he hissed. “Who. Botticelli was a painter.” He didn’t say any more but I could see he wasn’t too thrilled by the comparison.
“Come along, my plumptious beauties!” cooed Sizal, indicating where we should sit. “By the time I’ve finished, you’ll look truly divine.”
Graham stomped across the room and dropped into his chair with a grim, tight-lipped expression. I followed, settling myself down next to him.
Sizal adjusted our wigs to fit in a matter of minutes, but it turned out that our visit to the kitchen had been a big mistake. The steamy heat had caused our ringlets to unwind and we had to spend the next hour sitting in curlers being reset.
While we were waiting, the woman who’d remarked the night before about Josie having a bald patch came in. It turned out that her name was Kelly and she was one of the attendant nymphs.
She sat down in the chair on the other side of Graham, and Sizal explained how he was going to dress her long, red hair. Apparently she didn’t have any say in the matter, he was following strict instructions from Josie. He started work and it was then that I made the discovery that women like to talk to their hairdressers. I mean, really talk. About everything: boyfriend troubles, runaway husbands, faithless friends, money worries, holiday destinations, sick dogs and squashed cats. I reckon if you sat in a salon for long enough, you’d get to hear every single detail of a perfect stranger’s life.
While Sizal plaited and twirled her hair into place, Kelly related her entire life story. It wasn’t particularly gripping but it passed the time. After a while she began to ask Sizal about his work, and all of a sudden eavesdropping got a lot more interesting. Smiling at him in the mirror, she said, “You do all the stars’ hair, don’t you? I bet you’ve got a few stories to tell.”
Sizal Bouffant grinned, flashing his perfect teeth. “Oh yes, darling. I’ve had them all in my chair, so to speak.” He winked suggestively at me and Graham. “You should see me on Oscars night. I’m doing extensions faster that Bob the Builder!”
They chatted about various celebrities, Sizal relating a whole series of hair-related titbits about which actors were going bald and who’d had a bad dye job and whose split ends were a disgrace and whether the fashion next season was going to be long or short. Then he sighed and remarked, “Of course all that’s probably behind me now. If what I’ve read is true, I’ll be dropped like a pair of hot tongs when people find out I’m doing this wedding. I may have just committed professional suicide.”
I couldn’t help myself. “Why?” I asked.
Sizal looked at me and pulled a face. “Angelica’s friends. I don’t suppose any of them will want to use me now. That’s probably half my A-list clients down the plughole.”
“So why did you agree to it?”
“I’m a hopeless romantic, darling. I never could resist a wedding.”
Kelly didn’t like being upstaged by a kid and her eyes narrowed. “You used to do her hair, didn’t you?” she asked Sizal. “Back before Bill met Josie.”
I saw Graham’s back straighten and knew he was paying attention too.
“I did, sweetie. The last time I touched up her roots was January. She looked lovely then.” Sizal smiled, and his expression softened as though he had fond memories. “She was radiant, you know? In love. Glowing with happiness.” Then he pursed his lips and added, “Different story now, though. The poor woman seems positively suicidal.”
Kelly dropped her voice. “You know she’s here on the island?”
“Yes, darling. I’ve seen her.”
“People are saying she’s gone mad.”
Sizal looked uncomfortable. “She does seem a little … how can I put it? Delusional.”
“It must be embarrassing for Bill,” Kelly went on. She couldn’t quite disguise the tremble in her voice as she said his name. Interesting, I thought. So Kelly’s got a crush on him too, has she?
“Bill?” echoed Sizal. He shrugged. “Oh, I expect he’s man enough to cope. It’s Angelica I feel sorry for. She’s in pieces!” The hairdresser spun Kelly around in her chair and said, “You’re done, sweetie.” Then he added, “You know Angelica asked me to have a word with Josie?”
“With Josie? She never!”
“Oh yes, she did. Wanted me to stop the wedding. As if I could make any difference!”
Graham caught my eye in the mirror. We were both eager to hear more, but just then a wasp flew in through the open window and suddenly all hell broke loose.
I’ve never seen anyone react so hysterically to a small, stripy insect. Sizal screamed – a terror-stricken, ear-splitting squeal – then dropped his comb and started flapping his hands in front of his face in a way that only made him more likely to get stung. His breath came in wheezing gulps, as if he was about to have an asthma attack, and for a second or two I thought he might pass out in sheer fright.
But Graham – always surprisingly quick to react in an emergency – grabbed a glass and cupped it over the wasp the moment it settled. Sliding his ever-useful library card between glass and wall so he had the intruder trapped, Graham then carried the insect across the room and released it before pulling the window tight shut.
Sizal sank down on to a chaise longue, hand on heart trying to soothe its rapid beat, “Thank you,” he muttered faintly. “Darlings, I’m sorry to make such a fuss. Oh dear, dear, dear, I do hate the things.” Before he could explain his extraordinary outburst, the door opened once more and this time Josie came in.
“The blushing bride!” cried Sizal, quickly leaping back to his feet. “The star of the show! Come here, come here, come here! Sit, sit, sit! It’s your big day, darling, and I’m going to make you look so beautiful, the gods themselves will weep with jealousy. Now be off, all of you! I need to give Miss Diamond my complete, undivided attention.”
He hastily removed our curlers, squirted hairspray over us, then ushered Graham, Kelly and me out of the room with such speed that I snagged one of my fig leaves on the key that was sticking out of the door.
Graham and I had been instructed to go down to the entrance hall next, where Tessa would be waiting. As soon as we appeared she confined us to yet another chaise longue and told us to sit, without moving a muscle, while Josie was primped and preened for the day ahead. We couldn’t scratch our noses or go to the toilet for fear of wrecking our clothes or make-up. All we could do was talk to each other in whispers – and the first thing we said was, “What was all that about?”