the sheer glamour of eating in restaurants had never lost its thrill for her.
Buying a new white shirt because she had forgotten all the ones that lurked in the pile of ironing waiting to be done was a bit more difficult to justify, and abandoning a swim because she happened to walk past a shop window full of clothes the colour of Love Hearts was really pushing it. But she hadn’t bought anything for summer yet. It hadn’t been the weather for it. She fancied a pair of lilac jeans. New Labour, new wardrobe. It wasn’t as if it was New Year, Holly told herself, wandering into the shop. She hadn’t made a resolution to swim every day, so she wasn’t exactly breaking it. By the time Holly got to the changing-room she had turned her initial whim to buy a few clothes into an absolute necessity.
People sometimes referred to Holly’s body as rangy, which she liked because it sounded sexy, or lanky, which didn’t. She was tall and slim but appeared to have a lot of angles. Even though she bought clothes almost every day, she nearly always ended up wearing jeans which suited her best.
‘So you’re taking the grape and the papaya,’ the shop assistant’s eyes widened as Holly put another pair on the pile.
‘Not the kiwi?’ she asked.
‘Kiwi? It’s not a bit like kiwi, more pistachio icecream,’ Holly remarked, knowing exactly what the assistant would say next.
‘... goes beautifully with your colouring...’
They could never resist telling a redhead to wear green. Holly had been dressed in green all her childhood. The colour made her feel sick in the same way that blackcurrant cheesecake had ever since the afternoon she had defrosted and eaten a whole one.
‘I’m buying the rest of the bloody fruit bowl,’ Holly said, sharply.
So that was casual sorted out, she thought, perched on a stool in a coffee-shop. Now all she needed for summer was work clothes and something for the evening. And shoes. She drank her coffee quickly, checking in the mirrored wall in front of her to see she hadn’t left powdered chocolate in the corner of her mouth. There was something funny about the light, she thought, leaning closer to her reflection. It made her look as if she had very fine lines under her eyes. Holly sat up straight on her tall stool and smiled insincerely at herself in the mirror a couple of times. The lines were where her face scrunched up when she smiled. Laughter lines. The trouble was that they didn’t entirely disappear when she wasn’t laughing. She had never noticed them before. How long had they been there, she wondered. Maybe the haircut had not been such a good idea after all. Without a mass of curls blowing around it, her face felt very exposed. Holly gathered up her carrier bags and hailed a taxi to Knightsbridge.
‘I’ve come to take you out to lunch.’
Mo hadn’t noticed Holly walk into her department, or at least she had been keeping a watchful eye on a tall young woman with short red hair hanging around the Calvin Klein but had been too busy folding her customer’s Mani suit to recognize her daughter with a new haircut.
‘Turn around,’ she made a circle with her hand.
Holly twirled in front of her.
‘It’s gorgeous.’ Mo’s voice was decisive.
‘You really think so?’ Holly’s face broke into a broad grin.
‘You should have had it done years ago.’
‘Well, thanks.’ Holly’s face fell dramatically. She wanted people to like her new haircut, but was slightly alarmed by the implication that she had not looked her best for most of her adult life. ‘I haven’t slept, too excited, and it’s so hot outside,’ she began to explain her presence in the department store where Mo Worked, ‘so I awarded myself the day off in honour of New Labour, and I decided to change my life... and §et some clothes for summer while I’m about it... trouble is — everything seems to be linen. What’s the Point of linen?’
‘It’s cool and natural,’ Mo said in a helpful
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