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Chapter 11

Inside the salon, Kirsty recognised the sharp tang wafting from the dyes and bleaches, overlaid with the heavy smell of lilies, which were dripping pollen on to the purple reception desk. It was exciting. Ben, who had seen the salon at least three thousand times more than he wanted to, went straight to sit in a window seat, with his back turned towards his mother. He took out his mobile phone and jabbed at the buttons.

‘OK, Kirsty, sweet pea.’ Angela said. ‘I’m going to do your face a bit. Sit yourself down over there.’ She pointed to one of the purple salon chairs parked in front of a full-length mirror. Kirsty hoisted herself up into the seat. Her feet dangled miles from the floor, even when she stretched out her toes. She could see them in the mirror. Her dusty trainers looked funny against the silver and purple of the salon.

‘OK, sweetheart, this won’t take long.’

Kirsty closed her eyes as Angela whipped a sponge over her face. It was covered in powder that went straight up her nose and into her throat. She struggled to hold in a sneeze-cough.

‘This just takes away any nasty shine that would show up on camera. Keep your eyes closed. Good!’ Angela said.

Kirsty felt a soft brush flick over her eyelids again and again.

‘Open wide.’

Kirsty obligingly opened her mouth as though she were saying ‘ah’. She heard Angela giggle. Wet, sloppy-feeling stuff was rubbed on to her lips.

‘OK, open your eyes. This will give them sparkle.’

Kirsty lifted her lids to see a pipette like the ones they sometimes used in Science hovering in front of her eyes. Angela squeezed, and drops flew out of the pipette on to Kirsty’s eyeball. She yelped.

‘Don’t worry, it’s just eye drops. You look lovely.’

Kirsty’s eyes slowly came back into focus as she blinked away the drops. She looked at herself in the mirror and gasped.

‘Lovely, isn’t it?’ Angela said.

Kirsty’s skin was pale. Her eyes peered out at her from the centre of gloomy black smears. Her lips had been painted ruby red. She felt a bit panicky all of a sudden. She looked like a panda who’d chewed a lipstick.

‘Jermaine will be here soon. We’ll get your story on the front page of the paper with you looking so touching!’

Kirsty slid out of her chair slowly. ‘Is this how Oliver’s puppy looked?’ she said uncertainly.

Suddenly, the door to the salon sprang open. Dawn stepped in and looked around. Then she put her hands on her hips; her face was rigid with anger.

‘Mum,’ Dawn said. ‘Why does Kirsty look like the bride of Dracula?’

Angela smiled warmly at her daughter. She spread her arms, waving Dawn into the salon. ‘Sweetheart, how lovely. I wasn’t expecting to see you here. Did I leave you a note? I don’t remember.’

Dawn shook her head. ‘No, you didn’t. There was no sign of either of you when I got home. The house was empty, there was nothing for tea – then he texted.’ Dawn jabbed her finger at Ben. ‘He said I had to get down here quick to save Kirsty. Will someone please tell me what’s going on?’

Kirsty’s heart leapt in her chest. She blew a quick kiss in Ben’s direction. Her lips left a greasy red smear on her fingers.

‘What’s wrong with Kirsty’s face? She looks like she’s been putting make-up on in the dark,’ Dawn said.

‘Don’t be silly, darling. She looks perfect. Apart from that little smear there. Soon fix that.’ Angela whipped a sponge over Kirsty’s chin.

‘Bit early for Halloween, isn’t it?’

‘Dawn!’ Angela said sharply. ‘You know how cruel the camera can be unless you’re made up properly.’

Kirsty thought about the camera. Her stomach lurched in fear. She caught Dawn’s eye and willed her to help. Please, Dawn, please, Dawn, she whispered silently, over and over again.

‘What camera?’ Dawn asked. Her voice was as cold and hard as the chrome chandeliers that hung from the salon ceiling.

‘Kirsty’s going to be in the paper,’ Angela said.

‘Mum. One last time, what is going on?’

‘Oh dear, you sound so serious. All that’s happening is that I am helping little Kirsty get a bit of publicity, bring her plight to the world, that sort of thing.’

‘What plight?’

‘Well, to keep your grandad’s allotment, of course. We’re starting the campaign right here, right now. Well, in about ten minutes, I should think. Jermaine is usually a little bit late.’

Kirsty looked at Dawn. Dawn looked back. Kirsty couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Would she help? Or would she just laugh? Kirsty bit her lip; she could taste the greasy lipstick on her teeth.

Dawn seemed to make up her mind. ‘Kirsty,’ she said. ‘Get that stuff off your face. Ben, get your coat on. Mum, get a grip.’

Brilliant! Kirsty leaped up from the chair and ran to the sink. She turned on the shower attachment and soaked the front of her jumper, but managed to get most of the make-up off.

‘But what –’ Angela stuttered. ‘Dawnie, what’s the matter?’

‘Mum,’ Dawn said. ‘I’m sure that Kirsty appreciates your help. Oh wait, no, actually, I don’t suppose she does. So stop helping.’

Kirsty came away from the sink dripping water and slimy gunk. She turned to Angela. ‘Mrs Jenkins, thank you very much for your help, but Dawn’s right. This is something I need to do by myself.’

Ben came and stood next to her. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Not by yourself. Me and Dawn will help.’

Kirsty grinned. ‘Brilliant!’