CHAPTER ELEVEN

Mia walked aimlessly along the high street. It was still pouring with rain. She stopped for a moment to shelter under the blue awning at Brenda’s Hair Salon. Through the big glass windows she watched two women cutting hair. A girl with spiky bright orange hair swept up the curling strands from under the chairs. Mia watched her. Next she brought a cup of coffee to the woman sitting nearest the door. Mia noticed the squashy-looking sofa, and a pile of magazines on a low table, like someone’s sitting room. It looked comfortable and inviting. Why shouldn’t she go in and have her hair cut? Becky had been going on at her about it for weeks. It would be warm and dry, somewhere to be for the next hour. Mia pushed open the door.

Self-consciously she removed her wet jacket and tucked her dripping hair back behind her ears.

The orange-haired girl looked up. ‘Can I help you?’

‘I’d like my hair cut. Please.’

The girl flipped open the large appointment diary on the table. ‘When d’you want to come in?’

‘Can someone do it now? Straightaway?’

‘Sam? Can you do this girl next?’

Mia found herself being led upstairs to have her hair washed. She closed her eyes. The water was warm. The girl’s hands scooped her hair into the basin, smoothed and lathered it. She chattered all the time. Mia didn’t bother to answer or even to listen. She let her head rest, kept her eyes shut, let herself drift in the babble of sound. She felt safe and cosy. Someone else was washing her hair, taking care of her. She didn’t have to do anything. She didn’t have to think.

Back downstairs, Sam and Mia looked together in the mirror at Mia’s hair.

Sam combed the lank strands over her shoulders. The comb bit and tugged at the knots and made Mia’s eyes water. Sam laughed. ‘You haven’t done this for a while, have you?’

Mia frowned.

‘Well, what shall we do?’

Mia stared at her pale face, dark shadowed eyes. She looked terrible.

‘I want it all cut off. Really short.’

‘You sure?’ Sam held the hair back tight behind Mia’s head, trying it out. ‘It would suit you. Show your face more. You’ve got lovely eyes.’

Sam worked quickly, quietly. She didn’t ask many questions and Mia was grateful. She watched in the mirror as the scissors snipped round her head, and swathes of dark, wet hair cascaded to the floor. The orange-haired girl brought her a cup of weak coffee and she drank it even though she didn’t really like the taste. Perhaps it would be like this in hospital. She could lie in a clean bed and nurses would bring her drinks and stroke her head and whisper that everything would be all right. She could give herself up to it. There would be an anaesthetic and she could drift into sleep and not have to think any more.

‘There. What do you think?’ Sam held the small mirror behind Mia’s head.

Mia peered at the strange sight of her own neck, the edge of her shoulder bone, the neat spikes of hair. No one would recognize her.

She smiled at herself in the mirror.

There was no money left for the shopping. She walked slowly back towards the bus stop, glancing at herself in the shop windows she went past. If she’d had more money she’d have bought something new to wear too. It was a long wait for the next bus. She might as well go back down to the river. The rain had stopped. Lainey might be there by now. She could show off her new hair.

But the river path was deserted. Lainey must have gone home. The rain, probably, had forced her back. To wherever it was. Probably one of the estate houses at the edge of the town. Mia imagined a shabby semidetached house with pebble-dashed walls and a scruffy front garden. And the sick and crying baby. Lainey’s wrung-out mother, pale and desperate with rings round her eyes from no sleep and too many fags. That’s what she imagined. But maybe not. Maybe Lainey’s mum was at work and that’s why she didn’t know Lainey was running wild round the town, never in school. Lainey didn’t ever talk about her mum. Or her dad. But then neither did Mia, did she?

She sat down on the wet bench. Her neck was freezing. Two overweight men in tight suits walked by along the path. They stared at her. One said something she couldn’t hear, and they both laughed. No hair to hide behind. She glowered back. It was starting to rain again. The church clock struck. There were another fifty minutes to kill before the afternoon bus was due. Becky and Will and everyone were cosy in school, getting on with their lives. It wasn’t fair. Nothing was fair. She was all alone. Tears mingled with the rain on her face. There was just her, and little bean. And soon there wouldn’t even be little bean.