Feeling overwhelmed with guilt, Sophie poured a glass of wine and rang Mickey. Apparently Roger had quite a talent for making foam, a surprising revelation for everyone, and had been working in Beans cafe. Although from what Sophie could gather, Roger might have admitted to his redundancy but he hadn’t mentioned anything about working in the café. That was the mystery of the milk solved.
“Okay, something’s up,” Sophie finally said. “You’re usually much chattier, you who can’t stop talking. You didn’t even comment on Matthew and the ballet tickets for tomorrow. I’ve been waiting for it.”
“What do you mean? I thought you didn’t want me to say anything more about the topic.”
“So you’re brining a friend tomorrow night,” Sophie probed. “Who is he?”
But Mickey practically hung up the phone there and then, it was most perplexing.
After talking to Mickey, she took an even larger glass of wine into Carol’s room. She told her all about the situation with her parents.
“At least it’s out in the open,” Carol said with a shrug.
“Yes, thankfully,” she sighed elaborately, and then almost as if the wine was talking she continued to confide in Carol. “Tomorrow night. Matthew. Maybe I should cancel him coming. I think he thinks it’s a date. A double date of sorts because Mickey is bringing a friend. A male I presume.”
Carol was extracting outfits for Sophie to try on. Clothes sailed through the room like sea spray off the ocean. Carol’s head was thrust between hanging clothes, searching the depths of her wardrobe. Carol discarded items over her shoulder.
“I can’t believe you didn’t guess this earlier.” Carol’s voice was muffled, but the exasperation rang through.
Sophie looked down at the new, black pinafore she’d worn to work, a little shorter than usual.
“The thing is, how can it be a date when we’ve had all these swimming lessons in between? I guess it’ll only be the second evening outing we’ve had together. Besides, you invited him, so I don’t think it’s a date. I thought we’d go just as friends, it would be a group social thing,” Sophie finished.
“Boring, boring, boring. Would it be so bad if it was a date?” Carol sang from the depths of her wardrobe. “Thank God I’m home to give you fashion advice. You need to look gorgeous – gorgeous enough to snog.”
Sophie sat on Carol’s bed, the sole human amongst a mountain of clothes. If she stayed here any longer, someone would have to send a rescue party to find her.
A pair of black jeans flew through the room and Sophie’s hand moved like lightning, snatching the garment. Holding the jeans up, she quickly determined that there was no possibility of her fitting into them. They were just too small.
“Matthew’s very good looking, and he’s meeting you after work tomorrow, to watch my show. You don’t have time to do emergency shopping, and don’t you dare run late. No time to come home and change. You’ve got to be seated by seven. And you might as well give him a go. He’s a nice guy. What’s wrong with you?”
Sophie shrugged. “I dunno.”
“He’s not like Derek, the cheating bastard. You can see it. We’ve seen him drunk, he’s always swarmed by girls, but he’s not a player. He’s reliable.”
“I don’t trust men – any men – to be honest.”
“You should trust Matthew; he makes sure you survive each swimming lesson. Have you drowned yet?”
“No.”
“So… give him a chance.”
“We’ll see.” Sophie jumped off the bed, picking a pair of dirty stockings up off the floor and throwing them into the laundry basket. “I didn’t think I’d have to buy anything new for the event, because his fiancée died and he’s still dealing with it. We’re just friends –we work together. It would be way too complicated if we started dating. Didn’t you give me that advice, never mix business and pleasure?”
Sophie looked around the cluttered room for something else to occupy herself with besides dating Matthew. Carol got in late each night, tired from her show, and her dressing table was covered in makeup, lipsticks, handbags, sequined leotards, and hats – every type of hat a person could possibly ever have worn: bowler, sun, sombrero, fireman and police hats, - as well as a large collection of wigs piled up. Maybe she should spruce up Carol’s room, just a little bit, not too much for her to take offence, or to even notice. There was no harm in that.
“Bollocks, take a risk. Just because I offer advice, doesn’t mean I take it,” said Carol’s muffled voice from the wardrobe. “This is the most exciting thing that’s happened in this house. A date!”
“We’re just friends,” Sophie said.
“Yes, okay, friends. If and only if, guys and girls can be, ‘just friends’,” Carol murmured sceptically. Suddenly she shrieked, “Sophie, I’ve got it!” Carol emerged from the wardrobe a smile spanning from ear to ear, her face shone. She shook an orange dress with excitement. “This will fit and look amazing. I’ve even got wonderful shoes to match.”
Sophie took the dress from Carol, holding it steady, resting the garment in front of her. The dress looked like fairy floss, all layered ruffles and tulle. She frowned, considering a tactful response.
“Repeat after me, ‘It’s not a date’,” Sophie ordered.
“It’s not a date,” Carol muttered. “He’s on the mend sweetheart, and you’re getting him on the rebound. You can trust this one. He’s a good guy.”
“I’m not out to seduce him, and I’m not getting him on the rebound. It’s been too long a gap for it to be a rebound.” Sophie tried to control a stricken look as she examined the dress. “Do you think this dress is quite right?”
“Matthew’s the most exciting thing that’s happened to you in quite a while. The dress is perfect! Go on, try it on.”
She looked at the dress for a second time, seeing the excitement on Carol’s face, sighing, she slipped the garment on.
Carol gasped with pride. “I knew it would look amazing,” she enthused. Placing her hands on Sophie’s shoulders, she turned her to the mirror.
Sophie pushed aside a yellow feather boa and a collection of wigs that were hanging over the dressing table mirror and glimpsed her reflection, holding off a shudder.
“Okay, the purpose of this dress is to make him notice you,” insisted Carol. “You’re not just at work, or at the swimming pool, you’re dressing up – you want him to see the woman in you.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little bit too much?” She was a life sized piece of meringue; someone just had to dare take a bite.
“Not at all.” Carol dug a small box out of her handbag. “Men like women with confidence. You’re in advertising. Work it girl, work it! You love it, don’t you?”
Sophie caught Carol’s eye, and nodded. “Of course, it looks fab. Thanks for helping.”
“But first, Soph, look what I picked up? The very thing for your hair, Matthew won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”
Sophie paled as she examined the packet. Hair dye. “You know this will bleach my hair.”
“Change your look a little bit. Take a risk for a first date. Let me do it for you, I did some of the girls at the studio. Now take off the dress for tomorrow and I’ll grab a towel for over your shoulders so you don’t mess the floor up.” Carol then instructed Sophie to sit in a chair, pushing her in, undoing the packet with speed.
“What’s wrong with just straightening it? This all seems like such last-minute effort. Not really thought out.”
“We’ll do it right now. You’ve got to see Matthew looking sensational. Besides you’re clearly getting over Derek, so we need a new you.” Carol opened the hair dye box and put plastic gloves on her hands, then combed Sophie’s hair.
“Matthew won’t even recognise me if I turn blonde.” Sophie closed her eyes, her lip wobbling a little. “The dye might totally ruin it, the bleach and everything. My hair is dark brown you know.”
“Look it’ll go a little Aztec. Look at the box.
Don’t you think the colour looks fantastic?”
Sophie read the box; turning blonde could be different. The smiling blonde on the packet stared back at Sophie – weren’t blondes supposed to have more fun? Blonde hair could be the start of something new, problems solved with a bottle of hair dye.
“It will be the best thing to pick yourself up out of the hole you’re hiding in. Move on from Derek. There are decent guys out there. This one is teaching you how to swim. He’s a good fish.”
Maybe Carol was right, maybe hair dye would change her life. She looked at Carol; her sparkling gaze met Sophie's in the mirror. Sophie’s excitement mounted, Superhero Sophie, she liked the sound of that. Confident, sexy, better.
“Go on. Do it.” This was not a world of fear she lived in, it was only hair dye after all.
Carol rubbed her hands together. She opened the hair dye, combing it through Sophie’s hair. “This is going to look absolutely amazing.”
Carol’s mobile phone rang.
“It’s my director,” she shrieked, then answered the call. She fled to the next room, her voice loud and animated. She ran back into the room, grabbing her handbag.
“Oh God, Sophie. I’ve been called in. My director wants to see me immediately. He won’t say why. I’m so worried, I might lose my job. Are you okay to leave the dye in and just wash it out? Follow the instructions on the back of the box. It should be easy. I’ll see you in the morning.” Carol darted out of the room, not even waiting for a response.
“I’ll be fine.” Following directions for lustrous hair shouldn’t be that hard.
Half an hour later, she washed the dye out in the shower, forcing herself to towel-dry it without peeking. She cast her fingers through to smooth out the tangles, and then ran to the mirror, apprehension filling her as she approached, ready to gaze at the new, changed, dynamic Sophie. This was truly a step to moving on with her life. But as she stared at her reflection, her heart pounded. She froze.
Her hair was orange. Not Aztec blonde, not golden, but orange. Shaking her curls, shades of bright carrot and soft pumpkin shone back at her instead of blonde or brown. If she wore the fairy floss dress, she’d be truly edible. Come on boys, just eat up.
Sophie paced the room, head darting back and forth to the mirror. Her hands ran through strands of wet, orange hair, wanting desperately to call Carol, knowing she couldn’t. Carol was dealing with something urgent, and she couldn’t possibly come back to fix it.
Sophie grabbed one of Carol’s wigs, a short black bob, there was an idea. She twisted her hair into a French roll to tuck it under the wig. The roots shone bright like the sun praising a glorious new day.
She sighed. It was only orange. She could deal with that. Hair colour was nothing to get overly excited about; and after all, she was only seeing Matthew Silver… and it wasn’t a date.
Oh God, what if he thought it was a date?