THE WOMAN PASSES a soft brush over her face and says she really ought to do something about that, and she doesn’t understand what the woman means.
‘Your lips. They’re so rough, you ought to do something about it.’
‘Yes?’ she says.
‘I can’t deal with that here and now. It’s more of a long-term project.’
‘Yes,’ she says.
‘I can only cover it up a bit,’ says the woman, going over her lips with the brush. ‘That’s better. I can’t do any more. More colour, Ukko.’
Ukko, a small, youthful-looking man, brings up a tray presumably holding the colours.
She closes her eyes and feels the fibres of the brush on her cheeks again. Stroking, tickling.
‘We can make a reasonable job of this,’ says the woman. ‘You’re the very fair-skinned type. I can’t get rid of that, I can only mitigate the effect a bit.’
She nods.
Get rid of it, she thinks, mitigate the effect. She thinks about words, and behind her back Olli Latvala asks, ‘Everything okay here?’
‘Nearly through now,’ says the woman. ‘I can’t do much about the lips, but I’ve covered up the sore places.’
Then she walks down a corridor beside Olli Latvala to a large room. There are trays of open sandwiches and fruit on tables along the wall.
‘Help yourself,’ says Olli Latvala. ‘Would you like something to drink?’
‘I don’t think so,’ she says. ‘I’m not thirsty.’
‘By the way, you mustn’t take my colleague in make-up too seriously. Your lips are perfectly all right.’
Music comes through loudspeakers.
‘Here we go,’ says Olli Latvala. ‘But we have a little time yet. You’d better make yourself comfortable, and I’ll come and fetch you at the right moment. Then, like I said, I’ll go just up to the stage with you, not beyond that. Okay?’
She nods.
‘I’ll be back. By the way, the white baguettes with eel and chopped egg are particularly delicious. I can recommend them highly,’ says Olli Latvala. ‘And if Bon Jovi happens to burst in here, mind you don’t confuse him any more! He has to sing today.’
He smiles.
She likes his smile.
Then he goes away, leaving her alone in the big room.