Chapter 13
13
AILISH
‘Okay, so there are only two rules in the Makeover Club. We don’t talk about cancer or ex-husbands,’ Gwen proclaimed, as Rhonda manoeuvred the car into a parking space outside the trendy new boutique that had just opened on Ingram Street, ironically only a five-minute stroll to Gino’s restaurant. A whole net of butterflies let loose in Ailish’s stomach, a mixture of dread and resistance, but now joined by an undeniable flutter of excitement too.
They piled out of the car, and Ailish grabbed the wheelchair from the boot. Gwen had insisted that she didn’t need it, but the others argued that it would at least conserve her strength for tonight. That had won her over.
‘Right, driver, expensive shops please,’ Gwen demanded, as soon as she was in the chair and ready to go.
‘She was less demanding when she was at death’s door,’ Rhonda quipped, making Gwen giggle, and Ailish felt her heart soar.
She wasn’t one for swearing, but fuck it. Fuck it all. Gwen was right. No ex-husbands. No cancer. Just the three of them, having an unexpected day together, and they were going to bloody well make the most of it. If Gwen could raise her spirits and forget her woes, then Ailish could damn well do it too. Just as long as she could find something to squeeze her arse into. It had been a very real obstacle to the plan tonight.
‘I have nothing to wear,’ Ailish had announced earlier, after she’d finally, reluctantly, agreed to go out tonight. Gwen’s glitzy career in interior design meant she already had a wardrobe full of gorgeous outfits (all of which would be way too small for Ailish), and Rhonda had mentioned earlier that she had already bought a beautiful dress for tonight. So that just left Ailish…
‘Of course you do,’ Rhonda argued. ‘Just wear whatever you wore last year.’
‘Snoopy pyjamas and socks with individual stripy toes. You all came and stayed at my house, remember?’
They did. It had been the first Hogmanay post-separation, and the removal men were coming two days later to pack up her stuff and move her out of the family home of her dreams, to a soulless box two miles away. Ailish had dug her heels in about going out and reliving the nightmare of the previous New Year’s Eve, and on that occasion, they’d gone along with her. However, this year was a different story.
‘Good point. Snoopy isn’t exactly high fashion this season,’ Gwen had agreed.
‘And all my old clothes don’t fit me any more since I discovered the Quality Street diet. I’ve gone up two sizes.’
‘Only one thing for it then,’ Rhonda was already scheming. ‘We need to go now.’
‘Go where?’ Ailish had asked, playing with the crust of her pizza slice.
Another conspiratorial look had passed between Rhonda and Gwen. ‘Well, the thing is,’ Rhonda had begun, ‘when I was up guarding Gwen against life-threatening injuries while she showered, we were discussing how maybe a trip might be in order.’
Rhonda was clearly squirming, so Ailish was intrigued. ‘A trip where?’
Gwen had interjected. ‘We can’t drag this out. Pull the Band-Aid right off, Rhonda.’
Rhonda threw her hands up. ‘Okay, fine. Right. Well, Gwen needs a wee post-hospital makeover to get her ready for tonight, so while we’re there, we thought that… Aw, bugger, I’m just going to say it. The truth is, and this comes from a place of love – Ailish, you look awful. You’ve got roots the size of my wrists, your skin hasn’t seen moisturiser in months and you’re bordering on a unibrow up there. So I called the manager at one of my salons and they’re fitting us in for hair and make-up at three o’clock. And while we’re there, they’ll take a Flymo to those eyebrows.’
Ailish’s first reaction had been outraged indignation. ‘What does it matter how I look? It hasn’t exactly been one of my priorities over the last year.’
Gwen had nodded thoughtfully and Ailish thought she was about to get a win. Surely if anyone could understand how trivial and unnecessary all that surface-level stuff was, it would be Gwen. ‘We understand.’
Ailish had wanted to cheer, until her friend went on…
‘But the reality is, Rhonda and I are incredibly shallow and we’re the ones that have to look at you. So we’re going to sort you out and you don’t have a choice in the matter. It’s tough love, doll.’
‘And if we leave now, we can nip into the boutique next door to the salon and pick you up something to wear,’ Rhonda had said. ‘I’m always in there and they’ve got lovely stuff. It’s actually where I bought my dress for tonight, so I need to pick it up anyway.’
‘Yes! Perfect plan. That’s what we’ll do,’ Gwen had agreed. Ailish had opened her mouth to object, but Gwen spotted it and came back with, ‘And you can’t say no to me, because you know… cancer.’
Ailish had winced. ‘Seriously? Are you still doing that? Stop with the blackmail. My heart can’t take it.’
Gwen’s grin had stretched from ear to ear. ‘But you’re going to say yes, aren’t you? Because you love me?’
Ailish threw down her pizza crust. ‘Aaaargh. I give in. Yes. Okay. But as soon as you fully recover, I’m getting new pals.’ Two could play at that game. And, of course, Gwen knew she was joking and let out a cackle of triumphant laughter.
That’s why, at half past two in the afternoon, they were now trooping into a way too trendy boutique, with Ailish panicking because she was going to be trying on clothes, and she knew she was wearing huge, grey knickers and a bra that she’d fished out from under the dining table this morning. She couldn’t help thinking that wasn’t exactly the usual attire of this place’s clientele.
As soon as they got in, Rhonda took charge. It was absolutely no surprise that she’d been in here many times, given the immediate proximity to her salon and a shopping habit that bordered on requiring therapy.
‘Chanel!’ she greeted the owner with a hug. ‘These are my pals, Gwen and Ailish. Girls, this is Chanel.’
The very tanned, glamorous Chanel flicked her waist-length platinum hair back from a face that had impossibly full lips and cheekbones like sausages, and extended a hand past her voluptuous double-G chest and miniscule waist as she greeted them. Ailish felt her grey pants curl up and die.
‘Right, Chanel, I need to pick up my frock for tonight. But that aside, and much more importantly, you’re on a mission. This one here,’ Rhonda gestured to Ailish, ‘Size…’
‘Sixteen,’ Ailish replied. Her weight had fluctuated all of her life, so she didn’t mind in the least that she was bigger than before. She’d spent her whole life encouraging Emmy to have a positive body image no matter her size, and she truly believed in that.
‘Size sixteen, and she needs something fabulous to wear tonight. She wants to look like a goddess.’
‘I don’t,’ Ailish clarified. ‘I want to stay on my couch. But these two are forcing me to go out. It’s getting close to a hostage situation at this stage. However, if I’m going to go, I may as well look like a goddess, apparently.’ She knew she was rambling. She always did that when she was nervous.
Chanel scanned her from top to toe, and Ailish began to sweat. Just when she was sure she was about to be written off as a lost cause, Chanel clapped her hands. ‘I’ve got just the thing. Come with me.’
Ailish was outnumbered and too defeated to object, so she did as she was told. Chanel led her to a very glamorous changing area, then disappeared and came back two minutes later with a red sequinned dress.
The problem was immediately obvious to Ailish. ‘There’s no way I’m fitting into that.’
‘Trust me. I’ll leave you to change into it, but shout when you need me to do up the zip.’
Off she went, and Ailish rested her forehead against the wall of the changing rooms. This was going to be embarrassing. Humiliating. But she was worried that if she didn’t try, Rhonda and Gwen would storm the cubicle, so, reluctantly, she stripped off her jeans with the elasticated waist, and the jumper that had seen better days, averting her eyes from the underwear calamity underneath.
She took the dress from its hanger and carefully, terrified she’d rip something – maybe the fabric or a hamstring – she stepped into it and pulled it up. There was no denying it was gorgeous. It had the kind of shoulder pads she’d worn in the eighties, and a deep V at the front, then a body-skimming A-line skirt that dropped from right below her bust. So far, so good… if it weren’t for the fact that when she turned around, there was a ten-inch gape where the zipper was supposed to close.
‘How are you getting on in there?’ Chanel chirped from the other side of the curtain.
‘It doesn’t fit, Chanel.’
‘Okay, coming in.’
Ailish took a step backwards as Chanel entered, her enhanced boobs arriving a solid second before the rest of her.
‘Right, turn around and let me zip it…’
‘There’s no point, Chanel. It’ll never close and I don’t want to damage the dress.’
‘There goes the words of someone who’s never worn a dress with inner corsetry before. Right, turn around and put your hands on the wall.’
‘Am I under arrest?’ Ailish fought off an urge to giggle. This was ridiculous. But she did it anyway.
Chanel stood behind her, Ailish felt an almighty tug and then a miracle happened. An actual miracle. The zipper rose, and parts of her body sucked right back inside her torso. She was fairly sure her belly button was now nestled beside a kidney. As she turned around and stared in the mirror, Ailish gasped. It fitted. Not only that, it was spectacular. Stunning. She still didn’t want to go out tonight, but that was now because she just wanted to stand here for hours and look at her reflection in the mirror. How long was it since she’d worn something that came even close to making her look as good as this?
‘Holy Kardashian,’ a new voice exhaled, and Ailish realised that both of her friends were now peeking round the curtain. Rhonda went on, ‘If you don’t take that, I’m giving up on you altogether.’
‘There’s no way I can afford?—’
Chanel got in there quickly. ‘It’s 60 per cent off in the sale because it was Christmas stock. No one is going to be wearing red dresses in January. And I’ll throw in some gorgeous lingerie to wear under it for free.’
There was nothing else to be said.
Ten minutes later, Ailish and her grey undies were on the way out of the shop, clutching the most expensive wardrobe purchase of her life – even with the 60 per cent off! Come to think of it, her wedding dress had been more expensive and look how that turned out. Hopefully the divorce-day dress would have a happier ending.
‘Okay, Makeover Club, stage two,’ Rhonda announced as they entered her glam, gorgeous salon next door.
The manager, Alexis, was ready and waiting for them. ‘Hi boss,’ she greeted Rhonda first, before turning to Gwen and Ailish. They’d met a few times over the years, so there was no need for introductions. ‘Great to see you, ladies! We’re all set up for you. If you want to head over to the hair chairs, I’ll organise drinks. Cocktail or mocktail?’
‘Mocktail,’ Rhonda answered first. ‘I’m driving. You, Ails?’
Screw it, Ailish decided, her resistance to this whole plan swept away by the hem of a sparkly red frock. ‘Cocktail,’ she announced to a cheer from the others.
‘Me too,’ Gwen requested, then spotted Ailish and Rhonda’s surprise.
‘What? It’s one drink. The doctor didn’t say I couldn’t. It’s not going to kill me. Do I need to play the C card again?’
‘Don’t you dare,’ Ailish warned her, shaking her head. ‘If I’m playing by the Makeover Club rules, so are you. One more attempt at emotional blackmail and I’m going to start listing all Eric’s pros and cons. Wait until I get to the bit where he picked his toenails in bed.’
Gwen feigned a gagging motion, and Ailish knew they’d reached a truce. For now.
Beverage orders placed, they followed instructions to a row of three leather chairs.
A stylist who introduced herself as Roxy, appeared behind her and immediately began studying Ailish’s hair. ‘What would you like me to do today?’ she asked.
Ailish had absolutely no idea, so she was resigned to her fate when Rhonda broke off from the discussion she was having with a handsome stylist called Kaden about the look she was going for, and piped in with, ‘Colour, cut and take ten years off her.’
Roxy giggled, ‘Not sure that’s on the price list, but I’ll give it my best shot.’
Ailish liked her immediately. ‘You know what, Roxy, just do whatever you like. I’m going to leave it completely up to you.’
‘Ooooh, I love it when a client says that. Let’s get you all over to the basins.’
Ailish did as she was told, no longer even pretending to object. At the basins, the three of them chatted away to the juniors who washed their hair, before heading back to the big leather chairs, where their drinks were waiting for them.
Roxy got to work on her, while Kaden combed out Rhonda’s waves, and Alexis began working her magic on Gwen. They made small talk for a while, before Alexis hit on the all-important question.
‘So, where are you ladies off to tonight, then?’ she asked, as she sliced Gwen’s hair into sections with her comb, then pulled the strands up and cut into them with speed and precision.
‘Gino’s. Just along the road.’
Alexis nodded. ‘I know it. We used to go there sometimes on the weekend after work, before…’ She thought about it. ‘Before the pandemic, I guess. Not sure why we haven’t been for a while. Out of the habit, I suppose. And plus, half of the younger ones in here haven’t eaten a carb in years. They’d probably faint at the sight of pasta. We did love it when we went there. It was always a great night.’
Gwen agreed with her. ‘It always is. We’ve gone there on Hogmanay almost every year since we were teenagers.’
‘Really? Oh, you must have some great stories,’ Alexis teased, grinning.
Rhonda got in on the act. ‘Yeah, there was the year that…’ And off she went, for a good ten minutes, sharing stories of their nights out and exploits, with Gwen chiming in. They were laughing so much, it wasn’t until the story of the time that Rhonda had been dancing on a table at midnight and by 2a.m. was in the X-ray department of Glasgow Central because she’d fallen off it and broken three toes, that they realised Ailish hadn’t joined in.
Gwen rounded on her. ‘What are you thinking about, Ailish? Tell me it’s not that bloody ex-husband.’
‘It’s not, I promise. I was just thinking about…’ She stopped, suddenly realising that she didn’t want to put this out there. It was stupid. Embarrassing.
‘About what?’ Gwen pressed.
Ailish desperately tried to come up with something else that was on topic but drew a blank. She shouldn’t have had that cocktail.
‘Okay, it may have crossed my mind how different life might have been if I’d made a different choice on that first night we went to Gino’s.’
‘I think about that too,’ Gwen agreed. ‘I think you might have lost your mind, to be honest.’
From the third chair in the row, Rhonda emitted a confused, ‘Lost her mind about what?’
Gwen turned to her in surprise. ‘Dario!’
Rhonda was clearly none the wiser. ‘Nope, I still have no idea what you’re talking about. What happened with Dario?’
Ailish felt the rise of the red rash that always crept up her neck in times of embarrassment. ‘Och, it’s a long story. There’s no point dragging it all up again.’
Rhonda leaned forward. ‘Is it gossipy, surprising, and does it end with a sexual encounter?’
Ailish mentally ticked all of the things on that list. ‘It is.’
‘Then I’d like details please. Alexis, I think I’m going to need another mocktail.’