Free Lipstick and Lies by Debbie Viggiano Page A

the other scribbled out the name and number of her Chinese herbalist . She slapped the piece of paper on top of the photocopied sleep plan.
    ‘And finally,’ she gave me a frank look, ‘sort out your appearance. It’s no good looking at me like that Cass. I’m your friend. What are friends for if they can’t be a little honest?’
    ‘A little honest. Crikey, if I had balls right now I’d be clutching them in agony.’
    ‘You’re an attractive woman Cass. But look at you! Anybody would think you deliberately set out to try and look as awful as possible. Did you actually bother to brush your hair this morning? Or do you simpl y favour the bedraggled look?’
    ‘Bleeding hell Morag–’
    ‘And look at your sweater! Covered in Farex or similar muck. Change is due. And you can start right now,’ she picked up her mobile, ‘by seeing my hairdresser . ’ S he touched the mobile’s screen and selected a number .
    ‘Morag I can’t just up and go to a hair salon. Eddie will go bananas sitting on my knee for three hours.’
    ‘You can leave Eddie with me while you– ah, hello? Is that Dominique? Damn. When will she be back? Oh I see. Well I have a friend who’s having a major hair crisis. It needs urgent attention. No, I don’t know Chloe and Miguel. Are they any good? Okay. I’ll send my friend along now.’ She ended the call.
    ‘Morag , no!’ I protested.
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘Because the children will need picking up from school–’
    ‘In five hours.’
    ‘And I haven’t got Eddie’s lunch with me–’
    ‘Stop making excuses. I’m quite sure Henry won’t mind Eddie pinching a jar of Heinz. Now get a move on. Here’s the address.’
    I stood up. ‘But–’
    ‘Good-bye,’ Morag gave me a little push towards the door .
    ‘Oh for goodness sake,’ I snatched the piece of paper from her hand.
    ‘Don’t forget all your other bits,’ Morag popped the sleep plan and herbalist’s number in my handbag. ‘You can read the article and make the herbalist’s appointment while you’re covered in tin foil.’
    Half an hour later I found myself seated in a high-end salon. The entire staff were drop - dead gorgeous.
    ‘Hi, I’m Chloe,’ said a tall waif. ‘I’m your colouring technician,’ she ran her fingers through my lank tresses. ‘Your friend has instructed me to give you – and I quote – a bucket of golden highlights . Is that okay with you?’
    ‘I guess so.’
    Forty-five minutes later I looked like a pale Ras tafarian with foil dreadlocks.
    ‘Okay ,’ said Chloe. ‘ I’ll leave that to take. Can I get you a coffee?’
    ‘Please.’
    Chloe strode off. With legs that long she should be on Britain’s Next Top Model . I stared after her. What I would give to have a figure like hers. And wear a tiny cropped top. Show off not just a flat tummy, but abs. Which reminded me, I’d completely forgotten my New Year’s resolution to reinvent myself. Well thanks to Morag’s bullying, I was now in a swish hair salon. Not the one I’d originally planned on visiting. But same result. The only matter outstanding was a date with Nell’s dog. Rocket. A canine gym machine. I ferreted around in my handbag ignoring Morag’s sleep plan and the herbalist’s telephone number.
    ‘Nell , you old bag!’ I greeted my friend affectionately. ‘How’s B ump?’
    ‘Still a bump. I’m two days overdue. But never mind that, how’s you? Has you-know-who started w ork with Jamie and Ethan yet?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘How’s it going?’
    ‘Now isn’t the time to tell you. But I’m putting everything right–’
    ‘Putting what right?’
    ‘Things,’ I answered vaguely, ‘and I need Rocket to help me.’
    ‘You need my dog to help you put everything right?’
    ‘My figure for starters. It’s one vast wobble. I think that’s why Jamie stayed out so late last night.’
    ‘Because he didn’t want to see you wobble?’
    ‘On account of her ,’ I hissed into the handset. ‘She tried to poison me