Laura smiled. “Aren’t you the lucky one! How did you two meet, then?”
“Well, we haven’t, as yet,” I explained, “but it’s only a matter of time.”
She threw her head back and laughed, a deep throaty sound that seemed wrong coming from such a slight, feminine woman.
“You’re hilarious, Eleanor,” she said. “You’ll have to come round for drinks some time.
And if you ever decide to cut your hair, bear me in mind, yeah? I’ll give you mates’ rates.”
I thought about this. I had been slacking somewhat with my makeover list,
after the frankly disconcerting wax experience at the salon and the unremarkable changes that had been wrought on my nails.
I supposed I ought to press on with it. Normally, I wasn’t at all interested in my hair and I hadn’t had it cut since I was thirteen years old.
It ran down to my waist, straight and light brown—just hair, nothing more, nothing less.
I barely noticed it, in truth. I knew, though, that for the singer to fall in love with me, I’d need to make much more of an effort.
“This is, in fact, serendipitous timing, Laura,” I said, drinking more of the delicious bubbles—
my glass seemed miraculously to have refilled itself.” “I had been planning something of a reinvention.
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