Although the wind was keen and Maisie felt the blast of it on her neck, nothing was going to make her cover up her blonde halo

When she finally opened her eyes, Maisie barely recognised herself. Her long dark hair was now very blonde and ‘spiky’ with varying lengths of fringe falling over her brow. Maisie stared. “I like it,” she said, relief washing over her, “it’s just what I wanted,” she added, “a new me.”

Sylvia was very pleased with her client’s reaction, as she rang up the huge sum of £3 10/-. Maisie paid up and considered that not only would she be stopping smoking this week, she’d be stopping eating as well to pay for her new look.

But it was worth it, she decided, she couldn’t wait to show Chrissie. All the way home, Maisie tried to gauge the reaction of her fellow passengers on the bus to her short blonde hair.

She’d deliberately sat downstairs to avoid any smoke, but apart from a glance from the conductor as he took her fare, no one else seemed bothered. Slightly miffed, she knocked at Chrissie’s door.

Reaction

“Taaaraaa,” she piped as her friend opened it. For a few seconds, Chrissie really didn’t recognise Maisie, but when she did, her reaction was exactly what Maisie had hoped for.

They hurried to Chrissie’s room. “It’s amazing” was all Chrissie kept saying. “Here,” she said, offering up a packet of Senior Service, “I think this calls for a ciggie.” Maisie held up her hand. “Thanks, but no thanks,” she said, firmly, “I’ve stopped.” She rummaged in her handbag and handed Chrissie her packet of Senior Service.

For the second time that morning, Chrissie was amazed. “But...,” she began, but Maisie was having none of it. “No buts,” she said. “No more ciggies for me. I don’t want my blonde hair turning yellow with nicotine.”

“Sure,” Chrissie said, uncertainly, returning the cigarettes to their packet. “I wouldn’t want yellow hair, either.”

“So,” Maisie continued, unaware that she was leaving Chrissie behind in her rapid progress to perfection. “How about we go on the Monkey Parade this Sunday,” she asked eagerly. “Show them what we’ve got.”

Chrissie felt plain and boring beside Maisie and her new look. “Show them what you’ve got, you mean,” she said quietly. “I’ve got nothing to show off.”

For a minute Maisie didn’t understand. Chrissie had plenty to show off about, but then it dawned on her, she’d been so absorbed in her new “all about me” lifestyle, she’d forgotten that, for Chrissie, things hadn’t changed. They were still the same.

“Oh, Chrissie,” she whispered, taking her friend’s hand in hers. “It’s not like that. It’s just me trying to be different so that things can change for me, that’s all.”

Chrissie shrugged. “You’ve always been the pretty one she said as she hung down her head. “I suppose I’m just a wee bit scared that we’ll not be friends when you’re mixing with the bonnie crowd.”

Maisie whooped. “Are you daft or what?” she asked. “What bonnie crowd is this you’re talking about – Kenny Wilson, Rab Skelly, Shug Reilly and the like!”

Full swing

Chrissie couldn’t help but giggle. “No,” she said, now brightening. “I meant Marty Wilde and Lonnie Donnigan.” Both girls dissolved into a fit of laughter. “C’mon,” Maisie said, “just be happy for me, Chrissie. You know we’ll always be the best of pals, forever.”

Chrissie grinned. “So, it’s the Monkey Parade this Sunday,” she said. “You and me, showing them what’s what.” “You bet,” said Maisie, turning to go. “We’ll knock ’em dead.”

The Monkey Parade was in full swing when Maisie and Chrissie joined in. Although the wind was keen and Maisie felt the blast of it on her neck, nothing was going to make her cover up her blonde halo.

“Are you not cold?” Chrissie asked, wrapping her woollen scarf tighter round her neck. “Freezing” admitted Maisie, “but you have to sometimes suffer for the sake of beauty.”

Chrissie nodded in agreement, glad now that she wasn’t a “stunner.”

“Let’s hurry up and get to the Palais,” Maisie said, “and get ourselves warmed up.”

Once inside the dance hall, they felt immediately warmer and Chrissie quickly unfurled her scarf. “That’s better,” she said, looking round her. “Is there anyone looking?”

Maisie pretended indifference. “Let them look,” she said. “As long as they don’t try to touch,” she added, meaningfully.

But the first one to “twig on” to Maisie’s new look wasn’t a lad. “What’s all this then, Maisie Green?” Betty Morrison said, loudly, nudging her pals to come and have a look at Maisie’s blonde hair.

“Keep moving” Maisie whispered to Chrissie. “Just a bit of a change, that’s all,” she said over her shoulder, but Betty Morrison persisted.

“Who’s the lucky lad, then?” she said, giving Maisie a hefty nudge in the back. “Might it be the lovely Kenny Wilson?”

Maisie felt her face heating up, as annoyance built in her mind. “It’s you that fancies Kenny Wilson,” she said pointedly, “not me, so if you don’t mind...”

The rebuff was like a red rag to a bull and Betty pulled Maisie round to face her. “I do mind actually,” she shouted, “and if you think Kenny Wilson would have anything to do with a peroxide blonde, you’ve got another think coming.”

Shaken

Before the situation escalated into a full-blown cat fight, two of the patrolling dance hall ushers rushed over and separated the girls.

“Hold up now, hen,” one said to Betty, firmly placing himself between the two girls, while the other one held on to Maisie. “Remember you’re a lady.”

“Lady!” Chrissie interjected gamely, her face a picture of incredulity. “She’s not a lady!”

By now, the walking crowd had stopped walking and were enjoying the unfolding drama.

“Is that not Maisie Green?” Rab said to Kenny. Kenny strained his neck to see where Rab was pointing. “No way,” said Kenny, “Maisie’s not a blonde, she’s got brownish hair.”

Rab squinted into the dimness. “It is her,” he insisted. “Her hair’s different, but it’s Maisie Green, all right.”

The two lads watched as Betty Morrison was ushered downstairs to the cafe to ‘cool off,’ accompanied by her clutch of “eggers on”.

“Let’s go,” Kenny said urgently. “Maisie needs our attention.” Maisie was shaken, but her hair was intact. “C’mon,” she said to Chrissie, “let’s get out of here before she comes back up.”

The girls headed for the door, going against the flow of the walkers, who nodded to them in solidarity, as they hurried on through the gap that was opening up before them.

More tomorrow.