I walk into the hairdresser’s and do everything I can to hide my surprise. For some reason, I assumed Casey’s salon would look glossy and high-end, with chic staff and fizzy wine on tap. Instead I’m offered a coffee and digestive biscuit from a stylist comfortably dressed and old enough to be his mum. The chairs are tan leather and the units black. There’s a distinct masculine feel softened by a tabby cat asleep on one of the hair-dryer chairs and the subtly brown and yellow floral wallpaper. I crouch down and it lifts its head for a scratch. The moss green eyes narrow and study me as if the animal knows my plans.
‘Vi, meet Luna.’
‘Lovely name.’
He strides over and he runs his hand down her back. She stretches and licks his fingers. ‘I found her abandoned outside under a full moon. She was only about ten weeks old. With the vet’s help, I brought her back to good health.’
‘You should have called her Lucky.’
‘I’m the lucky one. Some customers only come back because they know it means a couple of hours with her purring on their laps.’ He looks at the woman who offered me coffee. ‘Judy, you get off now.’
She gives him the thumbs-up and his eyes scan her grey waves. ‘Have you decided yet about that pink tint?’
‘No. Derek might divorce me. He contacted his solicitor last year when I mooted getting a tattoo.’
They both laugh. Judy looks my way. ‘Casey’s a terror for leading people astray, so just be careful. You might leave with a Mohican cut.’
‘Excuse me, I’m very professional,’ he says and brandishes a comb and scissors as if they are fighting off her insults.
‘That he is,’ says a young woman dressed in black with no make-up and shiny brunette hair. ‘But I don’t tell him that very often. There’s no room in this salon for an ego the size of his.’
He waves to his two employees as they leave. The door rings as it closes behind them. Casey offers me a cupcake. I shake my head. ‘Wise choice. One of my regulars, Eve, has just turned ninety. Such an inspirational woman. She still does pilates. However, she’s never got over rationing during the war. These are austerity carrot cupcakes. Eve just uses that vegetable instead of sugar. I’m all for living on a budget, but this is a step too far.’
I stand up to sit in the chair he’s pointing to by the wash basins. Casey can’t stop staring. ‘That dress. It’s a knockout.’
As usual, Bella was right about me being able to pull off animal print. And just a slash of red lipstick must have brightened up my face without looking over the top. These are the sort of nuggets of information I’d have found boring a few months ago. But now, it was like finally trying the book of a popular author and understanding why they sold so well.
He ties a black cape around me and I lean back. Water runs and his fingers gently massage my hair. I cross my legs as electric sensations travel down my spine.
‘I never knew your hair was curly. It looks amazing.’
‘You wouldn’t say that if it were yours.’
‘Seriously, why do you straighten it?’
‘It’s just a mass of frizz if I leave it to dry on its own.’
We chat about products that could make the most of my natural wave. We discuss the warm May weather and the novels we are reading at the moment. Then he leads me over to a chair in front of a huge mirror. Our reflections smile at each other. I wait for him to ask me where I’m off to tonight – but he doesn’t. Casey glances at his watch.
‘It’s okay. I’m not meeting my friends until seven.’
‘Oh, sure. That’s great, it’s just I’m due to be seeing someone at half past six.’
Of course a man like Casey wouldn’t be staying in. ‘You should have said. I hope I won’t make you late.’
‘No problem. I’ll have you looking tip-top in less than half an hour. So, you really want me to straighten it?’
‘Please.’
‘You out for dinner?’
At last he’s curious. I talk about the book club and the new bistro pub my friends had wanted to try. I speak up as he turns on the hair dryer in his hand. Luna jumps onto my lap and Casey goes to shoo her off, saying something about my dress.
‘It’s okay.’ I settle her down. ‘So, what are you up to tonight? Food? Cinema? Another Chapter Battle?’
‘None of those,’ he says and stops for a moment. ‘Drinks in a fancy bar. With Beatrix Bingham. She wants to meet me on her own.’ He runs his fingers through my hair and they brush against the back of my neck. ‘Is that normal? Shouldn’t my agent be there? She hasn’t even contacted him. She messaged me via Facebook.’
I stop stroking Luna.
‘Vi? What do you reckon?’
I can hardly speak. ‘Sorry Casey – could I bother you for a glass of water? Luna’s like a hot water bottle.’
Gratefully I drink from the glass he brings over. ‘It’s… not unheard of. I guess I contacted you about Alien Hearts. Although I was never going to be your personal editor, and the submission process hadn’t started then. Messaging you via Facebook does seem strange if she’s a real contender to work on this book with you.’
Now there was no questioning the rumours about Beatrix – confirmation as well that those popular social memes were right about people needing to take risks to be successful in life.
‘Maybe I should tell my agent.’
‘Definitely,’ I say and put down the glass. ‘She’s probably just keen, which is flattering, but you don’t want to come across as unprofessional.’
We chat about holiday plans. Casey’s always wanted to visit Cuba. This autumn I might visit Mum and Ryan in Spain. My mascara smudges as he makes me laugh. He asks more about Vintage Views and I talk about my friends and how recently I’ve felt as if we have less in common.
‘You don’t sound very excited about going out tonight,’ he says.
‘To be honest, I wish I could get out of it.’
Casey finishes the blow dry. ‘You look beautiful. It would be a crime to waste this hair by staying here with me and Luna and eating pizza.’
I catch his eye and my chest flutters. Regardless of any book deal, I want to get to know this man better.
Being brave, I ask, ‘Would it be bad of us to cancel our plans?’
‘There’s nothing wrong with being bad now and again.’
‘Are you sure? Although I think there’s something you need to know before we go up to your flat… my favourite pizza is ham and pineapple.’ Lenny used to hate that. He said such toppings were supposed to show imagination but only showed the opposite.
‘What do you know? Mine too. I blame my mum. She always drilled into us it was very important to hold onto your differences.’
‘My Uncle Kevin believed the same.’
I take out my purse to pay for the cut and blow. He waves it away. ‘Okay, then takeout is on me.’
He rings Beatrix. I hear him mutter something about feeling too tired.
He’s turning down an evening with her to be with me.
I call Pauline. She can’t hide the disappointment in her voice. But it’s a night for me to put myself first – a concept the old Violet Lenny cheated on would have struggled to comprehend. We go upstairs shadowed by Luna who goes straight to her bowl by the fireplace. Casey lifts up a packet of biscuits next to it and shakes out some of the contents.
‘This is lovely,’ I say and study the full bookshelves. A carpet hangs above the mantelpiece. It’s of an elephant and is covered with sequins. The light in the middle of the ceiling doubles as a fan and with sun rays invading the small living room and the African art pieces dotted across the room, I feel as if I’m abroad, somewhere exotic. Casey lights a joss stick and straightens the linen cushions on the compact burgundy sofa.
‘It’s home,’ he says and goes into the kitchen. ‘I’ve been lucky enough to travel widely and try to reflect that in the decor. It lends me a sense of freedom that is easy to lose in a city as busy as London.’ The living area is open plan with two rooms leading off it, presumably the bedroom and bathroom. He pulls open the fridge door and takes out a bottle of wine. ‘Chardonnay or would you prefer a cup of tea?’
‘Wine would be great. Thanks.’ I feel nervous. We’re alone for the first time, not in a cocktail bar or park or salon. All I can think of is the way his hands massaged my head. Legs feeling shaky, I stand up and walk over to the kitchen. The words Shrinking Violet tease me in my head.
What would Bella do?
This isn’t a difficult question to answer. She’s the woman who stood up to her parents at eighteen and told them university wasn’t for her. She’s backpacked around Thailand – that trip widened her interest in wellbeing. Bella takes charge.
It’s time I became more assertive in all areas of my life.
I take the bottle from him and place it on the work surface behind.
Is this a mistake? Should I sit and chat with him first?
No. The new me wastes no time in chasing her goals. She doesn’t react, she acts.
And there’s just something about his eyes, the curve of his mouth, the richness of his voice… there’s a chemistry between us that makes me feel like I’m about to explode.
Our lips part. Casey’s hands trail the zip down my back. He intoxicates me. Casey steps back and stares into my eyes. He curls his fingers around mine. I lead him into the living room. He looks towards a door – behind which is his bedroom, I presume – and back at me. I nod. We’re in there within seconds and he pulls back the slate grey duvet. I smile as we kiss again and drape my arms around his neck. Clumsily I pull him downwards and we fall against the soft sheets.
With a building sense of urgency, I tug his shirt out of his jeans and undo the buttons. I inhale his smell. It’s heady and masculine. It drives my hands over his bare chest. I imagine his doing the same to me.
But what if experienced Casey tears away the packaging and recognises that the real me is a frumpy misfit? What if I don’t come across as worldly-wise as an attractive woman should?
Since when did sex become so angst-ridden? Now there are expectations to meet. I’d never really appreciated before how in some ways, it used to be easier just being me. What you saw was what you got. That left no room for disappointment.
I push him away instead of the negative thoughts.
‘Vi?’ He sits up. His breathing is laboured.
‘I’m sorry, Casey. I can’t… you see—’
He brushes dyed blonde locks out of my face. ‘I guess we are rushing things.’ He runs a finger over my lips. ‘Perhaps we should have stuck to pizza instead.’
I wish the duvet would swallow me whole. It didn’t take much to persuade him to stop. My fears are right. I don’t turn him on.
‘Ham and pineapple?’ he says and tucks in his shirt.
I jump up and slip my shoes back on.
‘No, no, sorry – actually I ought to go to Pauline’s meal. I feel bad for letting her and the others down.’
Casey rubs the back of his head. ‘Right. Okay. You’re sure?’
I give him a quick kiss on the cheek without meeting his gaze. Feeling like an inexperienced teenager, I hurry outside and put my sunglasses on. Vision blurred, I almost collide with someone walking towards the salon. It’s Beatrix, carrying takeout and a wine bottle.
It’s Friday. Bonfire Night. The fun snaps are in my lunch box. I tried one out yesterday after school in the back garden just to be sure they were still working. I didn’t notice poor Flossie. Her fur stood on end and she bolted. I called her back and said not to be frightened and snuck a handful of cat biscuits out of the kitchen, as biscuits always make me feel better.
Science goes on forever. It’s the last lesson before we go into the dining hall. I grab my box and drinking bottle. A group of boys still make raspberry noises when I pass. As we queue up Alice sees me and talks in a really loud voice about the party she is going to tonight. That’s what I don’t get – I’m a nobody to her, so why does she bother trying to make me jealous?
It doesn’t work anyway. I’ve got Flint now, and a couple of people I speak to in recorder group on a Wednesday after lunch. We file into the hall. Mrs Crawley the dinner lady is telling off a boy. We all strain to look. He’s dropped something into one of the water jugs. It’s white and swollen with a thread of string hanging out underneath like a firework.
‘Do you know what a tampon is, Violet?’ asks Alice and it’s as if the whole class has stopped to hear my answer. I can tell from their faces that most of them don’t but they’re glad if I’m the one who’s going to be made to look stupid. Luckily I know. I found a box of them once in Mum’s bedroom and asked her.
‘They are sweets for adults, made of really tough marshmallows. You can’t eat them with baby teeth.’
Alice starts laughing. Everyone joins in, although they don’t look as if they are sure why.
‘You’re a dumb fuck,’ she whispers.
Sometimes Alice says really rude words. She reckons they are cool because her brother uses them.
Annoying tears spring to my eyes as everyone laughs and sits down to eat. Half the class queue up for hot dinners, including Alice.
I wait. Wait until she walks back towards the table. As she passes me, my fists uncurl and I reach into the fun snap box under the table on my lap. I have a quick look around and then throw three of them hard at her feet. Flint says one is too risky as it might not go off.
I needn’t have worried about that.
Alice shrieks and tips her tray towards herself. I’m glad it’s a messy meal. Gravy splats against her dress.
‘It’s hot!’ she yells.
Mrs Crawley hurries over and in front of everyone quickly unbuttons her shirt. The boys laugh at her brown-stained bra and Georgie grabs a glass of water and throws it at Alice’s chest. She howls and starts to cry. Mrs Warham appears and tells the boys to stop laughing. Mrs Crawley leads Alice away.
‘Who did this?’ she says in her sternest voice, which she normally keeps for children who copy each other during tests.
I stare at my apple. No one replies. If my heart thumps any louder, she’ll surely hear and know it’s my fault.
I almost sigh with relief as I hear Mrs Warham start to walk away.
‘It was Violet.’ I stare harder at my apple. Georgie’s voice sounds defiant. ‘I’m no snitch but Alice is my friend, she was really frightened and she might have got hurt.’
My knees start to shake.
‘Violet?’ asks Mrs Warham in a voice that doesn’t believe what it’s heard.
‘It wasn’t me. It wasn’t,’ I say.
‘We’ll discuss this in the classroom. Follow me immediately.’
I push down the lid onto my lunch box and stand up. I’d forgotten about the fun snaps box. It falls to the floor. Mrs Warham picks it up.
‘It wasn’t my fault. Flint told me to do it,’ I say. I feel bad but Flint doesn’t even go to this school so he won’t get into trouble.
‘Who’s Flint? A nickname for someone here?’
‘No. He’s my friend.’
‘Shrinking Violet doesn’t have any friends,’ says Georgie and the others laugh.
‘Silence!’ Mrs Warham looks my way with icy eyes. ‘Come with me.’
I follow and wonder if I’ll throw up my sandwich. We enter the classroom and she closes the door. She says she knows Alice can be difficult but that my actions were dangerous. Alice could be badly burnt. I don’t know what to say. If she knows Alice is horrid, why doesn’t she do something about it? But she’s too cross for me to ask, as is Mum.
‘I knew that Flint was trouble,’ says Mum as we get in the house. When she picked me up, we had to go into the head mistress’s office. I’m not allowed to go back into school until a vestigashun has been done. ‘He’s not coming around to tea anymore. You’re to stop seeing him. I don’t want to hear his name ever again.’
‘He was only trying to help. Alice has been nasty since I started that stupid school, saying things about Uncle Kevin. She thought he was your boyfriend.’
Mum sits down at the kitchen table. She reaches out an arm and pulls me close.
‘Don’t you understand how serious this is? You are very lucky Alice’s burns are superficial. You could have got into a lot of trouble if they were worse.’
‘But she hurts me every day. Mrs Warham has given up doing anything. It’s as if Alice and her friends being mean to me has just become part of school life like assembly or morning break. It’s not fair. At least Flint is on my side.’
‘So am I,’ says Mum gently. ‘Look, I’ll have a word with the school; see if we can sort this out.’ She gives me a hug. ‘But I can’t let this go unpunished. You can forget sparklers and bangers and mash tonight. I want you in bed early. I want you to think about how two wrongs don’t make a right.’
‘She says Uncle Kevin was a jumper. It’s because of her I have those nightmares.’
Mum’s face tightens. ‘Just go to your room, Violet. I’ll bring up beans on toast later on, but no cake or ice cream.’
‘It’s Friday!’
‘Bad luck. I feel very disappointed.’
Legs feeling heavy, I snatch my bag off the floor and head upstairs.
I hate Alice.
I hate school.
I hate my life.
Flint is the only good thing apart from Flossie.
Whatever Mum says, there’s no way I’m going to stop seeing him.