In For A Treat

Sophia enjoyed these cuppas with Emily. If only she could afford what she really wanted . . .

SOPHIA sipped her cappuccino happily, licking the foam off her upper lip. “Enjoying that?” her friend, Emily, asked from the opposite side of the table.

“Yes. One of the best things about being on a tight budget is how much you actually enjoy treats.”

“Well, I’m glad there’s an upside, but I still think this savings plan of yours is ridiculous.”

Sophia put her hand up, indicating that she didn’t want another lecture on the subject.

“OK, OK. It’s your business what you choose to do with your money,” Emily conceded. “So, what’s for dinner tonight?”

Emily was a perpetual dieter and acutely interested in what everyone else was eating.

“I thought I might rustle up some macaroni cheese,” Sophia replied.

“Cheese . . . I remember that,” Emily replied wistfully.

Just then, a man passing seemed to tumble through the air and clattered against their table, spilling Sophia’s cappuccino and sending Emily’s skinny latte flying.

Sophia cried out, jumping up so the coffee didn’t end up in her lap.

“Don’t make a fuss,” Emily whispered.

“Don’t make a fuss?” Sophia responded. “I get a grand total of two special coffees a week, and it looks like I’m going to have to lick this one off the table!”

“I’ll buy you another,” Emily insisted. “Don’t you think we should ask that man if he’s all right?”

The man was picking himself up off the floor, brushing down his clothes and having the nerve to look unhappy, Sophia thought, when it was she who was the real victim.

“See what you’ve done?” she snapped.

“What I’ve done?” the man replied. “I almost broke my neck tripping over the strap of somebody’s handbag.”

Sophia glared at the other customers – which of them was responsible?

The man made a great show of removing his ankle from the offending strap. It was Sophia’s. “Yours, I believe,” he said in a caustic tone.

“You might want to keep that tucked under the table in future.”

Sophia grabbed the bag. “You might want to watch where you’re putting those big feet.”

She was still grieving for her coffee and wasn’t ready to accept that the incident was her fault.

“You’re lucky I’m letting this go,” he advised her. “If I’m injured, I could sue you for compensation.”

Sophia was just about to laugh bitterly when Emily interrupted to say she’d get her friend another coffee.

“Won’t you join us? What can I get you?” she asked the angry man.

“No need. I can get my own,” he began.

As he turned to leave, his left ankle crumpled.

“You must sit down,” Emily insisted. “You don’t want to do any more damage. I’ll ask at the counter if we can have some ice.”

The man introduced himself as Reece. As they waited for Emily to return, Sophia sized him up.

He was tall, dark and, though she hated to admit it, handsome. But she still didn’t like him.

“I’m on my feet all day for work,” he said. “If I can’t put weight on this ankle, it’s going to create massive problems.”

Sophia suppressed a snort. Massive problems? She doubted it.

“What do you do?” “I’m a hair stylist.” “Not exactly a matter of life and death, then,” Sophia muttered under her breath. “It’s not like you’re a theatre nurse.”

“It might not seem that important to you,” Reece observed, “but when someone’s going through a hard time, getting a new cut or even a good blow-dry can lift their spirits.

“For some people it’s a boost they need.”

Sophia sighed impatiently. She’d never liked getting her hair treated in public, and she had her reasons.

Although, if she stuck to her savings plan, that might soon be a thing of the past.

“One cappuccino, one flat white, a green tea for me and a bag of ice.” Emily had appeared beside them, unloading a tray.

“Now, have you two called a truce?”

Sophia and Reece scowled at each other. Emily pulled up a chair. For a moment no-one spoke. Then Emily’s phone rang.

“Would you excuse me?” That left Sophia and Reece with just each other for company again.

“Who looks after your hair?” Reece asked eventually.

“I’m a bit phobic about salons, actually,” Sophia admitted.

“Oh? Why? Have you had a bad experience?”

They were all bad experiences, in Sophia’s opinion. She’d take a trip to the dentist over a spell in the hairdresser’s chair any time.

“Getting my hair done – it’s not my thing.”

“Maybe it should be. Clients tell me they find it very relaxing, and you seem like you could use a bit of that.”

“Me? How about you? You’re the one who just had the hissy fit!”

“Can you blame me? I came in here for a quiet coffee and ended up almost breaking my leg!” Reece exclaimed.

“I’ve seen toddlers make less fuss over a

little slip.”

“Honestly, you’re impossible. If you’d been even a tad apologetic, I’d have offered to give your hair a makeover.

“You have great hair, but that style doesn’t suit you. You should take it up like this . . .”

Without warning, Reece reached out and lifted Sophia’s long locks.

Startled, she batted his hand away furiously. Reece was taken aback. “I’m sorry! I was only . . .” he began. “I didn’t mean to upset you.

“I’m used to touching women’s hair all the time at work, and I’m always being asked for advice when I’m out.

“But I shouldn’t have done that without your permission.”

Sophia was blushing and tears pricked her eyes.

“I know it’s none of my business, but is there some issue? Do you have a scar?

“I might be able to help. I’ve given people new styles before to disguise that kind of thing.”

“It’s not a scar,” Sophia whispered, not looking up.

“Then what?” Reece asked, his voice gentle.

Maybe Sophia was exhausted of hiding her shame; maybe she thought it would give Emily a break from being the one to listen to her woe.

Whatever it was, Sophia blurted out the truth:

“It’s my ears. I hate them. They stick out. I keep them covered up with my hair.

“If I get it washed or styled in a salon, everyone can see. I can’t bear that.”

Reece didn’t laugh and didn’t try to see for himself.

“I’m saving up to get them fixed, and it’s leaving me broke, which is why I went off at the deep end when my coffee got spilled. I count every penny.

“I am sorry about tripping you. I’m afraid my self-inflicted poverty is turning me into someone I don’t very much like. I’ll keep my bag on my lap in future.”

Sophia took a deep breath. She actually felt a bit better for having named her problem.

Reece appeared to think. “It’s a real pity that you don’t get pampered in a salon – it’s one of life’s great pleasures.

“I’ll tell you what, it would be quite easy for me to stay on for an hour after work some evening and give you a private consultation,” he began.

“It would be just you, me and Gillian, my salon manager.

“She’s been saying she needs some uninterrupted time to do rotas.” Sophia shook her head. “Just imagine the hot water coursing over your weary scalp and a fingertip massage,” Reece urged her.

“Then we could consider some styles to make the most of your bone structure without leaving you feeling exposed.”

It did sound tempting. It must have been 18 months since Sophia had last ventured into a salon, and that was for a dry trim.

Reece fished in his pocket and pulled out a card. “Ring me.”

Then he hobbled off.

Reece seemed genuinely pleased to see Sophia when she turned up at the agreed time.

Since receiving his invitation, she’d found herself thinking about it more and more.

Not having to worry about other customers staring would be a big plus.

And although the prospect of having her wet hair combed back from her face was still daunting, the hope of an expert new cut had appealed.

Emily had been encouraging, too, so Sophia had studied Reece’s business card a few times, then finally rung him.

“Come in,” he said now. “This is Gillian; Gillian, this is Sophia.”

An attractive woman smiled from behind the reception desk.

“Let’s get you into a gown,” Reece continued. “May I take a proper look at your hair?”

Sophia felt herself quaking as she sat in front of a mirror.

“Just tell me to stop any time,” Reece said.

He inspected her hair from root to tip.

“Nothing wrong with the condition,” he observed.

“And I see the summer sun’s given you natural highlights, so I’m not going to suggest any colour.

“But the length is dragging down your features.

“If you let me take it up and give you some layers, I believe you’d be amazed at the difference.”

“But not short short,” Sophia pleaded.

“No. Not short short.” At the wash basin, with the hot water having exactly the relaxing effect Reece had suggested, she felt her tension wash away with the shampoo.

His fingers felt firm and confident on her scalp and she accepted that she was in the hands of an expert.

Seated back at the mirror, Sophia noticed that he’d put on some yoga-style music, which helped her stay calm.

Then he combed back her long hair.

“They’re awful, aren’t they?” she asked.

“If I tell you your ears look perfectly fine to me, I suspect you won’t trust me,” Reece replied.

“I’ll accept that you think they’re a problem.

“But I can promise you that, with the natural curl in your hair, and the layers I’m going to cut into it, no-one is going to notice your ears at all.”

Sophia didn’t believe a word of it.

Although Reece was very nice about it, Sophia kept her eyes firmly shut the whole time he was at work.

“OK. You can open your eyes now.”

Her heart beating fast, Sophia opened first one eye, then the other.

Goodness! Her hair appeared thick and choppy, with lots of soft-looking waves.

Reece had cut it to chin length. On one side, he had left it hanging, but on the other, he had tucked it behind one ear.

Sophia turned her head from side to side. That ear – instead of looking hideous, it just looked like, well, an ear!

Reece had created such a full look for her hair that her ear nestled there, instead of standing out horribly.

“You’re a magician.” “Thank you.”

“I mean it. You’ve done an amazing job!” Gillian ventured over. “Another satisfied customer?” she enquired.

“More than satisfied!” Sophia jumped out of her seat and faced them.

“When I was a little girl, my mum insisted on me wearing my hair in a tight pony-tail at school all day.

“She wanted me to look clean and tidy, but I was so self-conscious.

“If I could wear my hair like this, though . . .”

“You’re going out to dinner again?” Emily asked, back in the coffee shop.

“It’s on me this time,” Sophia explained. “I insisted.

“I needed to say thank you to Reece for boosting my confidence. He’s changed my life.

“Anyway, I’m feeling flush.” She smiled. “Oh?”

“I’ve decided to redirect my savings fund.

“I’m giving up my plans for surgery – I don’t need it after all.”

“That’s a great decision, Soph. So how many courses are you having at dinner? Will you have a pud?”

“Emily, it’s time you stopped obsessing about your non-existent weight issue.

“We’re not the little fat girl and the little girl with the ears any more. We’re Sophia and Emily and it’s time we loved ourselves a little.

“Now, let’s order a couple of milkshakes, and . . .” She reached for her handbag. “Oh, no!”

Poor Emily had left her handbag on the floor with its strap trailing out.

“I’m so sorry!” she cried as a man went crashing to the floor. ■