A hush fell in the marquee as the judges walked around, holding their clipboards to their chests, their sharp eyes scanning every model’s head. Under the heat of their gaze, Catherine felt very uncomfortable and she hoped they would soon move on. Mark was subjected to the same scrutiny then Jamal was questioned about his techniques and the products he had used to achieve the styles.
When the judges finally went to the next workstation, Mark wiped his brow and sighed loudly.
‘I thought they’d never leave us.’ He grimaced.
‘Me too. That was really stressful,’ Catherine stretched in her chair. ‘I could do with some air.’
‘Not yet!’ Jamal held up a hand. ‘They might come back and we can’t risk the wind ruining your style.’
Catherine nodded then eyed her reflection in the mirror. Jamal had added some white highlights to her blonde hair along with some silvery streaks. While he was in the process of adding the colour, she’d been worried that it would make her appear older, but the silver and white blonde actually seemed to make her eyes sparkle and added a luminosity to her skin. He had then washed and dried her hair before working a curl serum into it and pinning some of it up. The hair he’d left down had been curled with tongs. The finished effect reminded her of a painting she’d seen of an ancient Greek goddess.
‘It looks good,’ Mark said and she met his eyes in the mirror. He was still in his chair but leaning closer to her and if she’d put out her hand, she could have touched him. She wanted to touch him. ‘It really suits you.’
She smiled. ‘Far too glamorous for a deputy head teacher, though.’
‘Hey, don’t knock it. Nothing wrong with adding some glamour to the local primary school. Might start a trend.’ Mark laughed.
‘I rarely fuss with my hair before I go to work in the mornings.’
‘She’s not lying.’ Jamal rolled his eyes. ‘She scrapes it back into a bun or a ponytail and off she goes. Not exactly showcasing our efforts at Hairway to Heaven and she could be such a great advert for us with her being a respected member of the community and all that.’
‘Jamal, you know I don’t have the time or inclination to fuss with my hair before work. It’s not important anyway as long as I’m smart and presentable. I don’t need to look like some glamorous model or celebrity.’
‘Catherine, you always look beautiful,’ Bradley butted in. ‘Take no notice.’
Catherine smiled her thanks at Bradley, and out the corner of her eye, she could see Mark nodding. Did he think she was beautiful? She hoped so.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for the catwalk so grab your models and head outside!’
Everyone stood up and the stylists removed their models’ capes, then in threes, they headed for the entrance to the marquee. Jamal took Catherine’s hand and then Mark’s, and suddenly it was their turn.
Outside, the catwalk – basically a length of red material – stretched out before them in front the marquee and down the beach in the direction of the sea. At the sides were temporary fences to stop people cutting across the material and getting sand all over it. As the previous stylist and his models returned to the marquee and went inside, Jamal whispered, ‘Come on, my loves. Strut your stuff!’
And they did.
Catherine plastered a smile on her face and sent up a silent thank you to Bradley for finding her the thick opaque tights that now gave her enough coverage to feel comfortable in front of the many eyes and cameras that were focused on them. Mark had been given a similar pair, but his were black.
The costumes Jamal had chosen for them made them look like fantasy ravens. They consisted of spandex leotards with fake purple feather plumes coming from the shoulders and the behinds. Libby had added some extra material and even a kind of codpiece to Mark’s after the fitting, so he didn’t have to worry about revealing everything to the crowds.
As they sashayed along the catwalk, Catherine caught Mark grinning at her and she grinned back. Jamal was between them, his head held high, and she could see that he was loving every minute of it. All around them, people cheered and whistled. In that moment, Catherine felt invigorated and alive. Every fibre of her being tingled and goosebumps rose all over her skin. She knew she really was embracing life.
After they had returned to the marquee and the final stylist had come back inside, clapping from the other side of the marquee caught their attention and Bradley muttered, ‘Here goes…’
One of the judges, a fifty-something man whose forehead was so smooth someone could have skied down it, held up a hand. ‘Thank you for your patience, everyone. What a day it has been!’ He pushed up the sleeves of his beige linen shirt then smoothed back his brown quiff – the only hair on his otherwise shaved head. ‘This year’s entries are incredibly impressive, and stylists, you have set the bar high. From chic to sexy, retro to futuristic, you’ve covered them all. Every hairstyle was perfectly matched to a costume, so an extra well done on that. But… there can be only one winner…’ He looked around the marquee for effect then clicked his fingers. ‘The winner is… Jamal Wilson of Hairway to Heaven!’
Applause erupted around the marquee, along with a few gasps, and Jamal covered his mouth with both hands then grabbed Bradley and hugged him. Catherine and Mark stood up and clapped loudly then Jamal pulled them into hugs too.
The judge held up his hands again for silence. ‘It was a close one, because, as I said, there are some wonderful styles here but what Jamal has done with his male and female models was turning them from ordinary Joes into delicious Delilahs… or should I say ravishing ravens. I especially like the codpiece!’ He looked over and winked at Mark.
Catherine frowned at Mark and he mouthed Delicious Delilahs? Ravishing ravens?
She shrugged but her chest shook with laughter and happiness. Jamal had won again and it would be good for his business and good for Penhallow Sands, as the more business the village brought in, the better for all concerned.
As champagne corks were popped, photographs were taken and people came to congratulate Jamal and to take a closer look at Catherine and Mark’s hairstyles, Lucy also approached the workstation. Catherine watched as she shook Jamal’s hand then he pulled her into a hug and whispered something into her ear. She nodded and smiled, her eyes shining. Catherine knew how kind and generous Jamal was, and suspected that he’d probably just reassured Lucy and told her that she’d still have a trial at the salon, probably even a permanent job if she wanted it. After all, Lucy’s models looked amazing and she was clearly a talented hair stylist, so if she could provide beauty treatments too, then she’d be an asset to the business.
An hour later, Catherine’s head was fuzzy from the champagne, excitement and having dozens of photographs taken and all she wanted was to get out into the fresh air.
‘You feeling okay?’ Mark asked, gently touching her elbow.
‘A bit warm to be honest. It’s making my head spin.’
‘Shall we go outside? I think they’ve finished with us now.’
She nodded and followed him out to the beach.
The afternoon was bright and the beach was busy. The catwalk had been removed and people made their way across the beach unhindered. For as far as she could see, there were people: on beach towels, deckchairs, in the sea and walking along the seafront.
‘I wish we could go for a swim.’ She gazed wistfully at the water.
‘We can… if you like.’
‘It’s too busy and I don’t have my costume.’
‘You are kind of wearing a leotard,’ he said as he gestured at her outfit.
‘Oh we can’t swim in these. Jamal will probably want to put them in a display case at the salon.’
‘I hope I haven’t perspired too much in mine then.’ Mark plucked at the clingy material. ‘You fancy getting out of here? Perhaps come up to Plum Tree?’
The idea appealed enormously.
‘Where were you thinking?’
‘I could make us some lunch. I have some cold beers in the fridge and we’re guaranteed peace and quiet. I could also take you to this secret place I discovered recently.’
‘Secret place?’ Catherine frowned. ‘What secret place?’
‘If I tell you, it won’t be a secret. I’d prefer to show you.’
He looked away then, as if he was almost embarrassed to ask her, and Catherine found his uncertainty endearing. He wasn’t at all arrogant or pushy and he didn’t make her feel uncomfortable or threatened the way some men did just by looking at her. She felt very comfortable with Mark and reassured by his behaviour and actions. She knew she could decline his offer and he wouldn’t be offended at all; he’d just go about his business and that would be that.
But she was curious to know more about him, to find out more about who he was, about what he wrote and about his life before Penhallow Sands. She wanted to get to know him better and that thought made her both nervous and excited.
‘That sounds perfect. I’ll just let Jamal and Bradley know that we’re leaving. We’d should probably get changed at Hairway first though, as I don’t fancy keeping this costume on all day.’
‘That sounds like a very good plan.’
Catherine and Mark had walked up to Plum Tree Cottage along country lanes with their high green hedgerows full with summer growth, then they’d cut across fields of corn, rapeseed and wildflowers. It was a beautiful day and it felt good to be alive, to be able to enjoy the breeze on her face and in her hair and the sun on her skin. After being cooped up in the marquee all morning, being outside was wonderful and even though most of the walk was uphill, and at times the muscles in her legs burned and her breath came quickly, it was still enjoyable.
When they were about ten minutes from the cottage, Mark stopped walking and turned around. Catherine did the same and gasped, because there, spread out in front of them was the breathtaking view of Penhallow Sands, of the coastline that curled away around the rest of Cornwall to their left and right and the dark mass of the sea with white breakers rising and curling then disappearing again.
‘It’s an incredible view, isn’t it?’ Mark said and Catherine nodded.
‘The best there is.’
She glanced at him, admiring the flush in his cheeks after the exercise and his new, fancy haircut that made him look younger and even more handsome. Being with Mark made her feel funny, a mixture of excited and nervous, and that reminded her of what it felt like to be a teenager. Not that she’d ever want to go back to that age when everything was so emotional and challenging and she had no idea what life held in store for her – other than that she had to be there to support her mother – but it was still nice to feel the anticipation that came with the unknown. And Mark was the unknown.
Catherine didn’t know what he was thinking, what he wanted from her or even if he’d be around this time next month let alone next year, and it was stirring something inside her that she hadn’t felt before. It was a rebellious emotion, a side to her that wanted to be a bit reckless, to enjoy living in the moment and not to worry about the consequences for once. She was always so sensible, so aware of how her actions impacted upon those around her and it could be exhausting being the one everyone else could rely on all the time – from pupils to teaching staff to the school governors to the head teacher and to her mother. For one day, one moment, Catherine wanted to live selfishly. To do something just for herself.
‘That’s a lovely smile.’ Mark broke into her thoughts. ‘What were you thinking?’
She shrugged. ‘Oh… just about what a great day it’s been so far.’
‘It has been a lot of fun.’ He nodded. ‘I’ll be honest though… I’m glad to get you away from everyone else.’
‘You are?’
She met his gaze, his intense dark eyes with their dark lashes and something inside her flipped over.
‘I am. I want to get to know you better.’
‘You do?’
‘I do. Every time we’ve tried to have a conversation up to this point, something has got in the way. Now it’ll just be you, me and some ice-cold beers.’
‘Sounds perfect.’
‘Not far to go now.’
They started walking again and Catherine knew that she was still smiling like the cat that got the cream. She couldn’t help it and she didn’t care. Mark wanted to get to know her better. She almost started to skip…
Ten minutes later, they’d reached the cottage and Mark led her around the back. Catherine had walked past Plum Tree Cottage a few times but never been inside. Set in its own land, it was a lovely private location and she doubted many people actually came this way because they’d use the road or the cycle paths and the walking routes. She knew it wasn’t that far from Greenacres House and Vineyard, but it was still a good walk and it was unlikely that Holly or Rich would arrive unannounced. It added to her sense of anticipation, knowing that she really was going to have some time alone with Mark.
The back garden was pretty and neat with borders bursting with colourful flowers and roses climbing up the cottage and around a small pergola. Their scent filled the air, rich and sweet and Catherine inhaled deeply, appreciating the uplifting, heady scent. White sheets and a few T-shirts swayed back and forth in the breeze on a rotary washing line off to the left and to the right, in the far corner of the garden was a summer house with its doors wide open. She wondered what it would be like to live here, to wake up in the morning and head outside to eat breakfast. Would she ever want to leave again, even to go to work? It would probably be very difficult, especially if Mark was here, warm and welcoming, handsome and sexy as hell.
Mark let them into the kitchen and placed his keys on the kitchen table. The room had aromas of wood smoke, spices and coffee. It was delicious and homely.
‘Is it all right if I use the bathroom?’ she asked.
‘Of course. It’s upstairs. You want me to show you?’
‘No, it’s fine, I can find my own way.’
She went through to the hallway then climbed the stairs, taking in how clean and tidy everything was. Mark had either cleaned up recently or liked to keep his house in order. If she’d come here to find smelly socks on the floor and dishes in the sink, then it wouldn’t have put her off Mark, but it might have made her question what she already thought about him. Just a bit, anyway.
She found the bathroom, used the toilet then washed her hands and met her eyes in the mirror above the sink, surprised by her reflection. Her hair did look good but it didn’t look like her; it was as though she was looking at a more polished version of herself that she might see after she’d been airbrushed in a photograph. She smiled, showing her white teeth then pouted the way that people often did in selfies, and that made her laugh and shake her head. Catherine had never thought of herself as sexy or even particularly attractive, and she knew that wasn’t about to change now just because she had a new hairstyle. She’d always believed that she was presentable enough and she did her best to maintain what she’d been given. She washed and conditioned her hair and had it cut and highlighted when she could find the time; she cleansed and moisturised her skin daily; she drank plenty of water and she walked and swam to keep in shape and to keep her heart healthy. She’d never seen any point in doing more because she was a busy person and because she couldn’t see how it would impact upon her life anyway. Who would care if she had fuller lips or a line-free brow? Who would know if she had a cellulite free bum and thighs or a flawless bikini line?
But now she did wonder what Mark thought about her appearance. Did he find her relatively attractive? She had to assume so because she was here, in his cottage, wasn’t she? Was there a possibility that he saw more than she did? It was her face and she had looked at it every day for years, so perhaps he saw it differently. In the romance novels she read, especially in the Alex Radcliffe ones, the hero always saw the heroine’s beauty both inside and out, and he appreciated everything about her, including her quirks and idiosyncrasies. But did that happen in real life? Was she the type of woman Mark could desire and want to grow old with?
Catherine shook her head. Now she was getting carried away and it was silly. She should just take the afternoon as it came and enjoy herself. She didn’t want to be disappointed by letting her imagination run away with her.
She left the bathroom and looked both ways along the landing, wanting desperately to have a peek inside the bedrooms but knowing that it was rather nosy and that, if Mark caught her or heard her, then she’d be mortified, so she suppressed her curiosity and headed for the stairs instead.
Mark was trying to stay calm but he couldn’t help feeling a flicker of excitement that he had a whole afternoon alone with Catherine. It had been a good morning down at the beach but he hadn’t expected Catherine to agree to come up to the cottage with him; he hadn’t even known he was going to ask her until he did, but now she was here and he wanted to ensure that she had an enjoyable afternoon.
It had been so long since he’d been alone with a woman. In fact, the last woman he’d been alone with had been Ellie and they’d known each other for most of their lives. Catherine was still basically a stranger to him in so many ways. Yes, he knew her, but there was lots he didn’t know about her. They could spend time together this afternoon and find that they didn’t like certain things about each other or that they disagreed on topics like relationships, politics and even what music they enjoyed. He hadn’t really ever dated because Ellie had been his girlfriend from such a young age, and he didn’t think he’d be any good at that whole dating app, swipe left or right process. Mark certainly wasn’t the type to ask a woman out in a bar or a club, or in any other situation for that matter. He knew that he needed to have some sort of friendship with a woman first and that anything akin to a blind date would throw him headfirst into a boiling pot of nerves and insecurity. Today, he’d invited Catherine to Plum Tree Cottage because he did want to be alone with her, to speak to her and find out more about her. The fact that he thought she was beautiful, that he already loved the way her smile lit up her face and the way she played with her hair when she was feeling anxious or doubtful, was something he couldn’t ignore, of course. But then he couldn’t see why it wasn’t okay for them to spend some time alone together. They were both adults, capable of making up their own minds and Catherine had seemed happy to accept his invitation.
He heard her enter the kitchen so he turned and smiled, trying to relax his shoulders and to act normally. It was possible that Catherine saw him as a friend and nothing more, that she had come here to enjoy the afternoon with him away from the village, that she really did just want some peace and quiet. But he hoped it was more than that, and sensed that it was. Mark was happy to go with the flow, to enjoy her company and see what happened. There was no point worrying about anything, because that would just place pressure on him and then he’d be tense and unnatural, awkward and goofy.
‘I’ve got the beers out of the fridge but I thought we might as well have some lunch too. Is there anything you don’t eat or don’t like?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m not a particularly fussy eater.’
‘Okay, well do you want to go and sit outside and I’ll make us a picnic?’
‘No.’
His heart sank.
‘I’ll stay right here and give you a hand.’
Her broad smile warmed him right through.
‘Okay then. Let’s see what I’ve got in the fridge, shall we?’
And as they stood side by side gazing into the large fridge, Mark felt happier than he had done in quite some time. It was good to have company, especially the company of an intelligent and very beautiful woman. In that moment, he realised exactly how much he’d missed having someone around and he was very glad that Catherine had accepted his invitation.
If only he could stop thinking about kissing her. Unless, of course, she was thinking about kissing him too.