Mia
“Who cut your hair before, hun?” Lila, the hairdresser asked as she pawed through my scalp. “It looks like it was hacked off with a pair of shears. Hatchet job.”
“Er … I–”
“We’ll have to sort the colour out first. What possessed you to go this dark? You’re a blond, right?”
Yaz squealed from behind me. “Ah! Dye it the same as mine. We’ll be hair twins!”
“Yaz, why are you here?” Verity asked from the chair next to mine. “This is supposed to be relaxing and you are not a relaxing human.”
“How very dare you! I’m super chill. Look, I’ll show you – just do these breathing exercises with me whilst you’re-”
“I’ve told you before,” Verity gritted out, her left eye twitching. “I do not like to be told when to breathe. My respiration is my business. Kindly bugger off.”
“Yeesh, you toffs are so uptight. I’ll just leave this rose quartz here.” She put a crystal on the small shelf in front of Verity and gave her a wink. “That’ll readjust your aura.” Verity eyed the pink stone, her eyelid twitching again.
I knew why Yaz was here. She’d caught me earlier staring into the mirror at work, fingering my horrific hair. Now that I hadn’t had the chance to dye it for a while and the blonde roots were starting to come through I looked truly scary. She’d sidled up to me and I tried to give her a smile, but it had come out as more of a grimace.
“I used to have such pretty hair,” I’d said to her. “You wouldn’t believe that now, would you?” Yaz’s mouth got tight and she gave me another of her full body hugs.
I’d noticed her in Verity’s office later that morning and the next thing I knew Yaz and Verity were dragging me off in my lunch hour to Verity’s hairdresser.
Yaz was here because she was kind, and she was worried about me.
“I don’t want to go too light,” there was no way I wanted to risk returning to the light blonde Nate preferred, “but I can’t go on like this I guess.” I fingered a clump of black hair. “And I do want it shorter.”
“Mia, no,” Yaz said, standing between the mirror and me with her hands on her hips. Her own hair falling in long, blonde spiral curls down her back and over her shoulders. “Layer it up but leave some length.” She pulled my hair forward over my shoulders to frame my face. “Don’t have it all shorn off. It’s so thick and gorgeous. You’d be mad to go too short.”
“Okay, okay, let’s have a think,” Lila said, moving back into position behind me and laying her hands on my shoulders. “She might be right you know. We’ll do it in stages and you can see.”
I shrugged, unwilling to get into a battle of wills with Yaz.
Yaz might seem all peace, love and spiritual energy, but I was discovering that underneath that relaxed persona there was a will of iron. After refuge-gate she’d been spending a lot more time round at her brother’s. Each time she came over she brought another bag full of clothes. My wardrobe had quadrupled. Yaz claimed they were ‘cast offs’ that she was trying to get rid of, but, seeing as they all seemed to fit my shorter, less well-endowed frame, I doubted that. I tried to protest but she just waved me away saying:
“I’ve got no chance getting that lot over my t and a, hun.”
She was right of course but I doubted any of it had ever fitted over her chest past the age of thirteen. She’d bought it for me. And I knew Yaz wasn’t exactly rolling in it – her flat was tiny and she didn’t just work for Max. For someone whom Max and Verity had clearly labelled as flaky, she seemed to be working a curiously large number of jobs. On top of running reception at the office she was also a windsurfing/kitesurfing instructor, as well as a Pilates and yoga teacher. Strangely she very rarely mentioned this. Max was fairly dismissive of it all which I thought was unfair. He called it ‘buggering about on the water’ and said she was ‘obsessed with the bloody sea’.
“If you don’t want it I’ll bag it up and take it to Oxfam, but it’ll be a pain in my arse.”
So now I had an extensive Yaz-based wardrobe: surf t-shirts and vests, distressed jeans, and jumpers with overlong sleeves and wide necks. I knew I shouldn’t accept her kindness, but I loved everything she gave me – it was all so different to my old wardrobe. But it wasn’t just Yaz adding to my clothing collection. Last week Verity had given me a super warm, olive green coat with a fur-lined hood, which she claimed was ‘so last season’. Yesterday I’d seen a picture of the Duchess of Sussex wearing the very same coat in Canada. The article listed its price as over £300. I highly doubted that anything one of the world’s leading fashion icons wore could be considered ‘last season’, but the damn thing was so warm and I’d been cold for so long that I didn’t have the heart to give that back either.
“We’ll see,” I told Lila.
When Lila pulled off the towel after my hair had been recoloured I stared at my reflection for a long moment. It wasn’t nearly as light or as long as it had been before, but it made a huge difference. My complexion didn’t look as pasty and unhealthy.
“Right, so I’ll take some off and then you can see what you reckon.”
I nodded and gave her a small smile. She worked on my hair for twenty minutes and then stepped back.
“There, perfect for your face,” she said. My hair hung to my shoulders and she’d chopped layers into the front. Yes it suited me but … I ran my fingers through it and then twisted it around them, gaining a secure hold.
“It’s great, really. But I want it shorter,” I said, letting my hand drop down.
Lila frowned at me. “Listen, let me dry and style it. It’ll come up once it’s dry and I bet you’ll change your mind.”
“My God, Lila, you’re a genius,” Yaz said, moving to stand in front of me and then squeezing my cheeks together. “Look at this face,” she said, tilted my head from side to side. “You are one sexy little beast.”
I smiled at her. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
“Okay, so let’s pay and get out of this joint. Smoothie bar? I’m buying.”
“I’m not drinking charcoal again, Yaz,” Verity said as she pulled off her gown and patted her newly styled hair. “Most of the stuff they serve there is not for human consumption.”
“Says you who eats dead animal flesh and –”
“Lila, I’m sorry,” I said, causing Yaz to break off her rant and turn to me. “But can you cut it shorter?” I stared at the mirror as I ran my fingers through my hair again.
“Trust me – this is the length you want. It would–”
“Shorter, please.” I caught her eye in the mirror. She must have read the determination in my expression because she gave me a brief nod.
“Okay, if you really want to go shorter then I can make it work. Er … it’ll be cute.”
Yaz and Verity hovered behind me and tried to convince me otherwise, but I wasn’t going to back down. I had more pressing concerns than how attractive my hairstyle was. But as I watched the hair float to the ground I did feel my stomach clench. I was still vain enough to care.
“There, now that’s short but still–”
“Shorter.” My voice hoarse with stupid emotion. Why was having my hair cut getting to me like this? I blinked and managed to keep tears at bay.
Yaz moved forward, her eyes on mine in the mirror. “Mia, I really think you should-”
“Shorter,” I repeated, my voice stronger now.
“Er … okay,” Lila said, moving forward and starting to cut again. “Well … um, we can still make this cute. It’ll be great, in fact.” She made a show of cutting, but there was very little length actually taken off. My hand crept into my hair after she’d finished. I could still twist the strands around my fingers.
“Shorter,” I whispered to a now perplexed Lila.
“Mia, I think that’s short enough,” Yaz said, her normally sunny smile had dropped and she was looking at me with the beginnings of concern.
I shook my head. “Shorter,” I said, making my voice as firm as I could manage.
“Honestly, Yaz is right. You don’t want to go any shorter. It would–”
“You don’t understand,” I cut in, my voice rising with the pent-up emotion that I normally kept brutally in check – squashed down deep where I put all the memories I didn’t want to think about. The customers, including Verity next to me, and hair stylists in the small salon fell silent at my rising voice, but I was too het up to notice. My hair, my once beautiful hair was lying around me and it still hadn’t been enough. I took both of my hands and pushed them into the strands, pulling my scalp back on both sides. Then my right hand went to the side of my head. I wrapped my hair around my fist. “I want it short enough so that nobody can do this.” I pulled the hair, yanking my head to the side. “I don’t want anyone to be able to get a grip on my hair. It’s really important.”
I didn’t hear the gasps around me. All I concentrated on was the feeling of tension at the roots of my hair and the familiar panic it evoked.
“I need it shorter.” My voice was thick now and to my horror a single tear fell down my cheek. I wiped it away furiously. I didn’t have time to cry. I needed to make them understand. With the tears gone I let my hands fall to my sides and sat up straighter in my chair.
“Please, just cut it,” I whispered. When Lila didn’t move to pick up the scissors I looked up and it was then I noticed her horror-struck expression. She was frozen behind me, staring at me in the mirror. I looked over to Yaz and saw there were tears swimming in her eyes and her lips were trembling. The whole salon was deathly silent. The normal babble of chat and background noise of hairdryers wasn’t there and all eyes were on me.
“Mia,” Yaz said in a choked voice. Before I knew it she had flung herself forward and was hugging me in the chair.
“I … um,” Lila cleared her throat, her own eyes were now filled with tears and I could hear a few other sniffles from the other women in the salon. “Cutting it shorter is not the answer, Mia. It’s not.” Her voice was rough with emotion.
“No,” Yaz said fiercely, drawing back from me so that she was in front of me with her hands on my shoulders and her face inches from mine. “The answer is that you tell me who the fuck has pulled you about by the hair so that I can fuck them up.”
Peace-loving, chilled surfer chick Yaz had officially left the building.
“Yaz, please,” I said, coming back to myself and realising what I had revealed. “It’s fine now. Honestly, you don’t have to fuck anyone up.”
That was when I noticed that Verity had stood from her chair and was crouched down in front of me. “There are people that can …” Verity paused for a moment and swallowed, her eyes wet as well which was really shocking as Verity was very much a stiff-upper-lip-type person, “… help you. We can-”
“I’m fine,” I told her, turning in my chair and taking her hand in mine. “Please,” I addressed this to all the curious onlookers in the salon, “I’m sorry to worry everyone. I didn’t mean …” my voice broke as more stupid tears filled my eyes and I took in a deep shuddering breath.
“Right, enough of this,” Verity told me, lifting me up off the chair, taking my hand and dragging me to the front desk – all cool efficiency and purpose. “You will not have any more of that beautiful hair chopped off today. Nobody is ever going to exploit that weakness ever again. Not on our watch.”
Max
“This isn’t something you can bluster about fixing, Max,” Yaz said to me, keeping her voice low so that Mia, who’d retreated upstairs, wouldn’t hear her. “You need to give her space. There’s things you don’t … look, I can’t break her confidence but tread carefully okay? You’ve upset her enough as it is.”
I shifted on my feet and shoved my hands into my pockets. Yaz had a point – I did tend to put my foot in it with alarming frequency where Mia was concerned. But I was itching to do something about whatever it was that was going on.. Yaz and Mia’s eyes had been red-rimmed when they came back from town. When I asked Yaz what happened she told me they’d gone to the hairdressers. How did getting your hair done make you cry? I got my hair cut every month at Bob the Barber. Bob was sixty-five, bald and had a large beer gut. It was not an emotional experience.
“I can’t exactly give her space when she’s living here,” I muttered, fishing out some sandwich fillings from the fridge. “She, er …” I dropped my voice to a whisper and leaned closer to Yaz, “Teddy said she’s sleeping in the cupboard in her room unless we let the dog sleep upstairs, which of course is now standard. That’s … that’s not normal.” I stared at my sister as her eyes started to fill with tears and her mouth set in a firm line. A couple of tears fell but she swiped them away, glancing up to check Mia hadn’t come back down the stairs yet.
“I don’t even know anything concrete,” Yaz said, her voice a little choked with her tears. She cleared her throat before continuing. “But I know enough. That woman needs to be handled with care. Above all she needs friends.”
“And a few chuffing good meals.”
Mia was still too thin. She didn’t have nearly enough weight before the pneumonia and that had only exacerbated the problem.
Yaz gave me a small smile. “Well, you’re the expert on that at least. You love cooking. Feed her up – it’s a start at least.”
“She eats like a bird,” I grumbled. “I think Teddy and I make her nervous.”
“Well, that’s okay then ’cause I’ve seen you feed up actual birds. Remember that pigeon with the broken wing? The one you hid in your room? And that’s only one example.”
I rolled my eyes. “Mia’s not a pigeon or a woodland creature. She’s a human woman who’s had a shit time.”
“My point is, I know how kind you are under that hard shell, how gentle. I know you can help her. But, if you’re not up to it then she can stay with Verity or me. We can–”
“She stays with me.” The absolute conviction in my tone was a surprise, even to me. But in that moment I realised that I didn’t want Mia anywhere else. I wanted her here. I wanted to know she was safe.
“I love my big brother,” Yaz said in a wobbly voice before she launched forward, throwing herself into my arms and giving me one of her fierce hugs – the same type of hugs that she’d been giving me since she was a baby and I was ten years old. The ones that convinced ten-year-old me that maybe, just maybe, the screaming, snotty, poo machine Mam had brought home wasn’t altogether a pain in the arse. I wrapped my arms around her. “I don’t really know what to do if I’m honest, Maxie. I’ve never dealt with anything like this before.”
I sighed and gave her a squeeze. Then I did what I had been doing since I was ten – I reassured by little sister. “We’ll work it out, Midge. It’ll be okay.”
