One Summer in Paris(68)

It took Audrey an hour to do the highlights and another hour to wash and cut Grace’s hair using the scissors that had been a leaving gift from her friends in the salon in London.

As chunks of hair fell to the floor, she felt a flicker of nerves.

What if Grace hated it?

Still, it was too late now. She could hardly stick it back on.

She combed the hair carefully, checking the cut. She’d left the sides a little longer and she curved them under as she dried the hair so that the hair framed Grace’s face.

“There.” She switched off the drier. “You’re done.” Her palms were a little sweaty. The change was more dramatic than she’d anticipated. What if Grace hated it?

“Can I look?” Grace removed the towel from her shoulders and walked to the bedroom.

Audrey closed her eyes and crossed her fingers.

There was silence. More silence. And then she heard a sound.

“Grace?” Was she crying? Shit. Shitty shit. Panicking, Audrey dragged herself to the doorway of the bedroom.

Grace was standing in front of the mirror, tears pouring down her face.

Audrey’s stomach clenched. “I’m sorry. I thought—I’ll fix it. I’ll do something—I—”

“Don’t do anything. I love it.” Grace wiped her cheeks and turned to look at Audrey. “I love me. For the first time in months. Maybe longer. You have no idea.” She sank onto the bed and sobbed. Not delicate tears, but great gulping sobs. “When he left, he didn’t just take his clothes from the closet, he took all my confidence. Every last scrap. She was so young, and it was all so brutal, and every time I looked in the mirror all I saw were the reasons he left, so I stopped looking.”

Audrey stood frozen. She was used to her mother crying. But Grace crying? That was a whole different thing. It made Audrey want to cry, too. There was a huge, massive lump in her throat. She put her hand on Grace’s shoulder. “I think you’re beautiful. Inside and out. That’s the truth. You’re the best person I’ve ever met, Grace.”

Grace stood up and hugged her tightly. “I’ve been trying so hard to move on. To not be me. To be different.”

“You don’t need to be different.” Audrey had never been held so tightly in her life. “You’re great the way you are.”

“No. The real me is boring and does everything the same because it’s safe. My hair has been the same all those years because I’m too afraid to change it. But what you’ve done is amazing, and it makes me realize that change can be good. I need to do more of it. I need to give my whole life a haircut.”

Audrey felt the sting and spill of tears. Shit. If she ever met Grace’s husband, she’d floor him. “You’re smudging your makeup. Worse, you’re smudging mine.” She sniffed. “We’re going to have to start again, you know that?”

Grace made a gurgling sound that was close to a laugh. Then she pulled away and walked back to the mirror. She moved her head experimentally. Her hair swung with each movement, smooth and silky.

“How many times have you done this cut before?”

And now they’d reached the awkward part.

Audrey stood on one leg and then the other. “That might have been the first time.”

“You don’t normally cut hair short?”

“I don’t normally cut hair at all.” Mmm. Probably should have lied about that, Audrey.

Grace frowned. “But you said you worked as a hairdresser.”

“I said I worked in a hairdressing salon. I wash the hair. Do treatments. Toners. Head massages. That kind of thing.”

“So this is the first time you’ve actually cut hair?”

“Yeah.” She waited for Grace to freak.

But she didn’t freak. “In that case I think we both know what career direction you should be taking. You have real talent, Audrey. Tomorrow we are going to your salon together so that we can show them what you’ve done.”

“I can’t cut hair here in France. I don’t speak French.”

“Hair is a universal language.” Grace swung her head from side to side again. “So what should I wear on my date?”

Audrey finally relaxed. “You really are going?”

“Too right I’m going.” Grace turned to look at her and there was an expression on her face that Audrey hadn’t seen before. “I need to show off my new hair.”





Grace


Grace turned her head from side to side, admiring her hair in the mirror.

She felt excited but also nervous, which was crazy, of course. What did she have to be nervous about?

She was having dinner with an old friend, that was all.

Except, Philippe had been more than that, hadn’t he?

First love.

When she’d left Paris without even having a chance to say goodbye, she’d cried the whole way home on the flight. She cried for the life she was leaving and the life she was returning to. The crew had kept her plied with tissues.

She’d stepped off the plane into the chaos and conflict of her life. It was like plunging into freezing water after swimming in a tropical ocean. Suddenly she was negotiating a world filled with jagged edges instead of smooth curves. The only solid thing had been David. It had been like grabbing a tree, knowing that it wouldn’t move as the floodwaters of life rushed over her.