Free Touched by Joanna Briscoe Page B

the lanes round the back of the village.
    Eva was already there when Jennifer arrived.
    â€˜Why
are you here?’ she hissed to Jennifer.
    â€˜To see Mrs Pollard,’ said Jennifer calmly.
    Eva glanced at her. There was little else to say. ‘Why?
Why
?’ she said eventually. ‘Do you like Mr
Pollard
?’
    â€˜I like them both,’ said Jennifer. ‘Mrs Pollard’s hairdressing salon is starting today in the garden. I am to be her first model girl.’
    â€˜Is that what’s in that frilly-silly bag you carry? All your hair
ribbons
and brushes?’
    â€˜Yes,’ said Jennifer, and smiled.
    Eva glared at her.
    Mrs Pollard’s hairdressing salon involved the placing of chairs under a shelter that Mr Pollard had constructed using a canvas stretched across two walls of breeze block. The girls worked hard together heating Mrs Pollard’s wiry bob into a temporary smoothness with hair irons that drew a singed smell, then held her fringe back with a velvet headband. It began to spring loose, so they soaked it in hairspray and added rows of kirby grips, concealed by the band. Mrs Pollard sat very stiff all the while, in a sort of trance, her cream voice stilled.
    When they had finished, she stirred herself, examined Jennifer’s palms and rubbed in some Astral. ‘The hairspray will dry them out,’ she said. She whisked a wet flannel over Jennifer’s face, then patted her cheeks and the tip of her nose with some sun lotion, passing a scoop to Eva without looking at her.
    â€˜Stand up nice and straight, my pet,’ she said, repositioning Jennifer’s shoulders, and went off to fetch some semolina.
    â€˜Is it always to be the food Jennifer
likes
?’ growled Eva, barely audibly, as Mrs Pollard returned.
    Mrs Pollard cast her a glance.
    â€˜That baby food Jennifer eats,’ said Eva after an awkwardly long pause. Her eyes were glittering. ‘Shall she have
some
rusks, then?’
    â€˜Now, now, dear,’ said Mrs Pollard impassively. Idly, she picked up Jennifer’s spoon and held it to her mouth.
    A look of disquiet came over Jennifer’s face, and she paused, stiffly, then took a mouthful.
    â€˜Good girl,’ said Mrs Pollard.
    Mrs Pollard selected a number of clips, grips and a can of Elnett and teased and lacquered Jennifer’s hair into a tall beehive and attached a little bow at its front. She stood back to admire her work. She stared at Jennifer for some time.
    â€˜The prettiest girl in the kingdom, who—’
    â€˜She
looks
like a woman!’ Eva interrupted, with undisguised indignation. ‘She looks so tall!
Grown
up almost. Like a lady.’
    â€˜Now you’re ready for Arthur,’ said Mrs Pollard.
    â€˜What do you mean?’ said Eva.
    â€˜For the new painting. Arthur wants to do some photographs first with his Instamatic camera he bought himself earlier in the year. He had a contract to build three shops! And after that, he treated himself. Now, dear, can you walk carefully to the shed? Don’t let the heat spoil your do.’
    â€˜But – but—’ said Eva. ‘He is working at our home.’
    â€˜He was going to come back. Did you want your hair done too?’ said Mrs Pollard casually, looking back.
    â€˜Pollard is here?’ said Eva. ‘He is here?’ She squinted.
    â€˜Don’t screw up your face like that, my dear. It’s bad for beauty. Arthur’s at work in his shed. Arranging the sheets for behind the chair. He had to prepare a canvas too.’
    Mrs Pollard shielded Jennifer with a parasol as she led her round the house, through the cauliflower beds, to the tangled patch of briar and nettle where Pollard’s painting shed stood. Cats followed them.
    â€˜Make sure you don’t get stung,’ she said.
    â€˜Where
as
I can?’ said Eva, jumping on the nettles and stinging herself. She hissed like one of the cats.
    â€˜Now, dear,’