‘I’m not joking. All this hair is driving me mad. Plus I need to shake up my image, get people talking about me again, you know?’
Actually, I don’t know, but I guess that’s the nature of her work. She has to constantly stay in the forefront of people’s minds to maintain her profile. ‘I see what you’re saying, but a pixie cut is pretty extreme. There are so many other styles that would look incredible on you and still make people sit up and take notice.’
She gives a little pout. ‘But why do half measures when we can go all out?’
Normally, I love having the opportunity to do hair makeovers. It’s fun and rare to get people brave enough to go for total restyles. But in this instance, I’m suddenly and inexplicably nervous. This is my ex-best friend, plus she’s a celebrity. What if I screw it up? Although I’ve never screwed up a cut before – well, not since I was a junior anyway. ‘It’s absolutely your call,’ I say carefully. ‘I just want to make sure you’ve given it enough thought.’
‘Oh, believe me, I’ve been thinking about it for ages.’
‘Everything okay?’ Jennifer has wandered over to check up on us. ‘Cassie, can I get you anything else besides the water?’
Cassie gives my boss one of her megawatt smiles. ‘We’re all good, thanks. I love the rustic Christmassy vibe in here, it’s so cute.’
‘Thank you.’ Jennifer almost looks flustered, which is a first.
‘Cassie wants to have a pixie cut.’ I decide it can’t hurt to have another opinion.
‘Really?’ She stares at Cassie critically for a moment. ‘With that bone structure I think it would be a knockout!’
Cassie beams. ‘I’m so pleased you approve. Zoe here is being a bit of a wet weekend about it.’
‘Erm, excuseme!’ I fake an outraged tone.
‘Well, you are! Come on, be excited. You’ll cut my hair fabulously and then everyone will talk about it, and I can tell them what an incredible hairdresser you are. It’s a win-win situation.’
I inhale as Jennifer gives me a meaningful stare and mouths at me to do it.
I finally let myself be excited about this. Cassie does have the perfect face for ultra-short hair. If anyone can carry it off, she can. She spends the next few minutes showing me photos on her phone of the type of cut she’s got in mind, and we finally settle on a definitive style. I ask her if she’d like to donate her hair to charity. She absolutely loves that idea and takes a selfie, which she posts on Instagram to her two hundred and sixty thousand followers with the caption:Watch. This. Space.
I feel a little queasy at the thought of all those people witnessing my hair skills. But then I put it out of my mind. ‘Okay, because you’re donating it, I’ll plait it first, all right?’
‘Okay, but aren’t you going to wash it first?’ she asks with a frown.
I raise my eyebrows. ‘No point in washing all that hair when you’re only going to have a fraction of it left.’ I comb it through, plait it and tie it off with bands before reaching for my scissors. I realise everyone in the salon is now watching us. A couple of customers have their phones out and are videoing the event. Cassie winks at them in the mirror. But up close I can see her swallow in anticipation. ‘Ready?’ I ask.
She nods, and her fists clench in her lap. For once, Cassie Barrington is unable to speak. She blows out a breath as I start to cut.
Once it’s done, everybody cheers. Cassie moves her head back and forth, trying to get used to the missing weight. ‘Okay?’ I ask.
‘Yeah. It feels so weird. My neck’s cold.’
‘You’d better invest in some warm scarves then; there’s lots more to come off yet!’ I send her to the rear of the salon to get her remaining hair washed and when she returns, she’s back to her excited self again. I settle her in her seat and start combing and snipping.
‘I just realised, it must be coming up to your ten-year wedding anniversary,’ she says, eying me in the mirror, occasionally glancing at what my scissors are doing.
‘It’s on Friday actually.’ I try not to think about the fact that my planning of it has almost ground to a halt. Madeline still hasn’t got back to me about the cake and the decorations and she was also going to help me with the room layout. I still haven’t put together a playlist, and I need to try on my dress and fit in time for Becky to do my hair. And aside from all that, my trust in my husband is still at an all-time low, despite the fact that on the surface we’ve kissed and made up.
‘This Friday? Nice.’ Cassie pauses and reaches for her glass. ‘Are you doing anything special for it? Ten years is a big deal.’
As she sips her water, I reluctantly tell her about the upcoming party, praying she doesn’t ask for an invitation. If she comes, I just know I’ll spend the whole evening being annoyed that she’s there. Plus, everyone will be gawking at her and she’ll end up being the centre of attention as per usual. I realise my thoughts are mean-spirited and uncharitable, but I can’t help them.
‘Ooh, a party at the Regis. Sounds like a laugh. Is all the old gang going to be there?’
‘Not really,’ I reply, trying desperately to think of a way to change the subject. But my mind is coming up empty.
‘What about Lou Schiavone? And Danny and Will?’
‘Oh, well, yes. They’re coming.’