Free The Leaving of Liverpool by Lyn Andrews Page B

removed, the hair pins withdrawn and her hair brushed out.
    When the first blond tress fell to the floor, her heart sank and she tried not to think about what her mam would say, but as Olivia darted from side to side exclaiming with little cries of delight, she forgot all about Lily.
    When Monsieur had finished she couldn’t believe it was really herself staring back at her from the mirror, for a shining cap of bouncy blond hair framed her face. ‘It doesn’t look like me! I feel . . . new!’
    ‘You will be “new” when I’ve finished with you! Next stop Cripps and then De Jong et Cie!’ Olivia was in her element. She was wondering if she could pass Phoebe-Ann off as a new friend? Wouldn’t that be fun! Maybe to Abbie; she was a bit dense.
    Phoebe-Ann followed Olivia out into the street as the entire staff of the salon waved them goodbye. Her head felt curiously light and she looked around to see if anyone was looking at her. Quite a few heads turned in their direction.
    Olivia sank down in the velvet covered chair the deferential assistant in Cripps set out for her. ‘We want to try everything, please! And hats and shoes and gloves as well!’ she demanded imperiously.
    Two hours later they emerged carrying numerous parcels and Phoebe-Ann felt as though she was walking on air. A pert straw cloche hat with a large satin bow on the side covered her hair and matched the coral-coloured dress with the dropped waist which made her look taller and even more slender. It had a handkerchief hemline that was shorter than she’d ever worn before. Her legs were encased in silk stockings and she wore cream kid shoes with an hour-glass heel and a strap over the instep. Her uniform had been packed in a box.
    When the doorman held open the door and murmured ‘Good afternoon, madam’ she nearly giggled. He hadn’t even given her a second look when they’d gone in. ‘Do I really look . . . like a lady?’ she whispered.
    ‘Oh, every inch! Now, let’s have some tea. I’m quite worn out.’ Olivia feigned exhaustion.
    As she followed Olivia into the tea rooms, Phoebe-Ann began to feel apprehensive. What if she did something wrong and made a terrible gaffe and embarrassed Miss Olivia and made a complete show of herself? ‘Can I just sit here and not have any tea?’ she whispered as Olivia smiled up at the waitress who was enquiring what ‘modom’ would like.
    ‘Don’t be silly! A pot of tea for two and . . . I think some scones?’
    ‘Cream and jam, madam?’
    Olivia nodded. The waitress scribbled on her pad and walked away. Olivia glanced around to see if there was anyone she knew to whom she could show off her handiwork. There wasn’t. She sighed irritably. How disappointing.
    Phoebe-Ann ate very slowly, praying the cream wouldn’t ooze out nor the jam slide off and on to her dress. Olivia drank her tea quickly and then started to tap her fingers on the table impatiently. ‘What shall we do now? It’s far too early to go back.’
    ‘We could go down to the Pierhead and perhaps go for a sail on the ferry?’ Phoebe-Ann suggested. She, too, was loath to return to Upper Huskisson Street. She wanted to be admired and stared at.
    Olivia looked disdainful. ‘With all those common people! It’s such a crush!’ Then she smiled. ‘Yes, we will go to the Pierhead! There’s bound to be one of Papa’s ships in. We could ask someone to take us on a tour.’
    ‘The Mauretania ’s in. I do know that,’ Phoebe-Ann supplied, thinking of the Malones.
    ‘She’ll do. Finish your tea and collect your things! We’ll take a taxi.’
    Phoebe-Ann did as she was told for she’d never been in a taxi before. Olivia was offering another treat.
     
    The Pierhead was crowded but, as she followed Olivia to the Princes Landing Stage and craned her neck to see the towering black hull and four red and black funnels of the Mauretania , she felt her spirits soar. ‘Oh, miss, wouldn’t it be wonderful to be sailing on