Read Online Late Night Shopping: by Carmen Reid - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Carmen Reid
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arm.
Big, shiny gold buttons, sticking pompously proud of the material. Kelly-Anne's hair was tugged and tangled, snarled and snaggled right across all eight buttons.
It would take Annie hours to sort this out. She began to try and unwind the muddle.
'Oh for goodness sake!' Connor was starting to fidget, 'it can't be that bad, there must be a way of just fishing it out from under the buttons.'
More long minutes went by as Annie fiddled away at the mess of snarled hair and hard, unyielding brass.
'Yeeeeouwch,' was the only sound Kelly-Anne made every now and again.
'No, it's not going to work, babes, we'll have to either cut off some hair or cut off the buttons,' came Annie's verdict.
'Well, we can sew the buttons on again, can't we?' Connor was trying to sound calm and pleasant, when he was in fact deeply regretting ever having stepped into this room and interfering with this crazy woman with the hair.
'Where do I get scissors?' Svetlana asked in her deep, dark voice.
Annie knew the suite only had tiny nail scissors for snipping stray threads and cuticles and a great big pair of dressmaking shears for cutting off whole trouser hems . . . and on occasion, rescuing women trapped in dresses. Once she'd had to free a leg bound so tightly by a pair of skinny jeans it had started to swell. Yes, if Annie ever hosted a TV series, it would be called: 'When Clothes Can Kill'.
She directed Svetlana to the drawer, sure that plenty of progress could be made snipping off the brass buttons with the nail scissors. A little hair might be sacrificed, and if it wasn't working out they could always go down to the salon. Although Annie wasn't sure she wanted to lead Kelly-Anne all the way through The Store with a TV star stuck to her head.
Kelly-Anne seemed to be suffering. She'd gone very quiet, her shoulders were shaking a little and her breathing was shallow.
'You're going to be fine,' Annie assured her, 'this is just a little hiccup, it will all be over really soon.'
'I haven't cut my hair since I was seventeen,' Kelly-Anne whimpered, 'I don't want to cut my hair. Donnie loves my hair. I love my hair. I don't even want any scissors around . . . I don't want to see any scissors . . .' The anxiety in her voice was obvious; clearly some sort of hairdressing phobia was kicking off.
'It's OK, don't worry,' Annie soothed, 'we're just going to snip Connor's buttons off and the problem will be solved. Honestly, you'll probably lose a strand or two at the most. Do you want me to do it? Or we could get one of the hairdressers up . . .'
Because Annie was kneeling down at Kelly-Anne's side, patting her hands and trying to reassure her, she saw Svetlana return, but did not see what she had in her hands.
'Arms up,' Svetlana instructed Connor.
'Are you sure?' Connor asked. Then, before Annie could say a word, two sounds came all at once.
A dramatic: 'Aaaargh!' from Kelly-Anne as her hair was yanked up high with Connor's arms and then a very firm, very final, metallic 'clunk'.
'There!' Svetlana said, brandishing the dressmaking shears.
'Phew!' Connor freed his arms as an astonishingly large clump of purple-black hair slid to the ground.
Kelly-Anne's bloodcurdling scream brought every member of staff currently on floor two rushing to the scene.
Annie bustled everyone out of the suite just as fast as they'd come in. 'We're fine thanks, just a little anxious moment. Don't worry, don't worry we'll be fine! Paula,' she instructed her assistant, 'a glass of champagne, love, just as quickly as you possibly can and get Marco from the salon up – right now! I don't care if he's blow-drying Madonna's fringe, he needs to come here now.'
She dispatched Connor and Svetlana as well with a brisk: 'I think I can manage this better without your help, thank you!'
'I phone you Annah!' Svetlana promised.
Yes, well, maybe Svetlana wasn't going to be the dream business partner
Big, shiny gold buttons, sticking pompously proud of the material. Kelly-Anne's hair was tugged and tangled, snarled and snaggled right across all eight buttons.
It would take Annie hours to sort this out. She began to try and unwind the muddle.
'Oh for goodness sake!' Connor was starting to fidget, 'it can't be that bad, there must be a way of just fishing it out from under the buttons.'
More long minutes went by as Annie fiddled away at the mess of snarled hair and hard, unyielding brass.
'Yeeeeouwch,' was the only sound Kelly-Anne made every now and again.
'No, it's not going to work, babes, we'll have to either cut off some hair or cut off the buttons,' came Annie's verdict.
'Well, we can sew the buttons on again, can't we?' Connor was trying to sound calm and pleasant, when he was in fact deeply regretting ever having stepped into this room and interfering with this crazy woman with the hair.
'Where do I get scissors?' Svetlana asked in her deep, dark voice.
Annie knew the suite only had tiny nail scissors for snipping stray threads and cuticles and a great big pair of dressmaking shears for cutting off whole trouser hems . . . and on occasion, rescuing women trapped in dresses. Once she'd had to free a leg bound so tightly by a pair of skinny jeans it had started to swell. Yes, if Annie ever hosted a TV series, it would be called: 'When Clothes Can Kill'.
She directed Svetlana to the drawer, sure that plenty of progress could be made snipping off the brass buttons with the nail scissors. A little hair might be sacrificed, and if it wasn't working out they could always go down to the salon. Although Annie wasn't sure she wanted to lead Kelly-Anne all the way through The Store with a TV star stuck to her head.
Kelly-Anne seemed to be suffering. She'd gone very quiet, her shoulders were shaking a little and her breathing was shallow.
'You're going to be fine,' Annie assured her, 'this is just a little hiccup, it will all be over really soon.'
'I haven't cut my hair since I was seventeen,' Kelly-Anne whimpered, 'I don't want to cut my hair. Donnie loves my hair. I love my hair. I don't even want any scissors around . . . I don't want to see any scissors . . .' The anxiety in her voice was obvious; clearly some sort of hairdressing phobia was kicking off.
'It's OK, don't worry,' Annie soothed, 'we're just going to snip Connor's buttons off and the problem will be solved. Honestly, you'll probably lose a strand or two at the most. Do you want me to do it? Or we could get one of the hairdressers up . . .'
Because Annie was kneeling down at Kelly-Anne's side, patting her hands and trying to reassure her, she saw Svetlana return, but did not see what she had in her hands.
'Arms up,' Svetlana instructed Connor.
'Are you sure?' Connor asked. Then, before Annie could say a word, two sounds came all at once.
A dramatic: 'Aaaargh!' from Kelly-Anne as her hair was yanked up high with Connor's arms and then a very firm, very final, metallic 'clunk'.
'There!' Svetlana said, brandishing the dressmaking shears.
'Phew!' Connor freed his arms as an astonishingly large clump of purple-black hair slid to the ground.
Kelly-Anne's bloodcurdling scream brought every member of staff currently on floor two rushing to the scene.
Annie bustled everyone out of the suite just as fast as they'd come in. 'We're fine thanks, just a little anxious moment. Don't worry, don't worry we'll be fine! Paula,' she instructed her assistant, 'a glass of champagne, love, just as quickly as you possibly can and get Marco from the salon up – right now! I don't care if he's blow-drying Madonna's fringe, he needs to come here now.'
She dispatched Connor and Svetlana as well with a brisk: 'I think I can manage this better without your help, thank you!'
'I phone you Annah!' Svetlana promised.
Yes, well, maybe Svetlana wasn't going to be the dream business partner
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