Chapter 9
9
T wo days later, Cally had thought a lot about the races. On the one hand, she was all over the show, but on the other, she’d decided that, for once in her life, she would take the bull by the horns and go all-in in her preparation and actually try to make the run-up a good thing. Cinderella would, in fact, scrub herself up and jolly well go to the ball. Not only that, if it was the last thing she did, she was going to enjoy it.
In light of that, she’d decided to get her nails done as a trial run to see what was what. She’d found herself sitting in a nail bar with her feet dangling in water, a pair of flip-flops beside her, and a cup of hot blackcurrant in her hand. What looked to her like coloured water bubbled and fizzed around her ankles. A woman shoved a white tub full of long plastic strips with nail varnish colours on the ends towards her and said something to her she couldn’t quite understand. Cally had never had her nails done before and surrounded by millions of bottles of polishes, bright lights, and a lot of activity, she didn’t really have a clue what was going on. It was a whole other world to her and she wasn’t quite sure what to think about it at all. She took her surroundings in as a gigantic bronze massage chair pummelled her back and a girl in a mask yanked a tiny red stool on wheels from another station, plonked herself down, snapped latex gloves over her hands, grabbed the tops of Cally’s feet out of the water, placed them on the towel-covered edge of the foot bath and studied Cally’s toenails with a frown.
The girl then gesticulated to the little plastic sticks in the tub with her eyebrows raised. Cally shook her head, grabbed the tub, looked through a few of the plastic strips and, plumping for the least offensive, safest colour, pointed to the number underneath a pale pink dab on the end of a white plastic stick. The girl then shouted the number to someone on the other side of the room, flicked a towel from a trolley, and pulled out two bright yellow foam toe dividers that she pushed in between Cally’s toes.
Cally smiled as the woman dabbed a huge tube of white lotion on her cuticles, then sat back and looked around. Various people in front of her sat at stations with their hands out in front of them and foam spacers between their toes. After a few minutes, she tuned into the woman sitting to her left who was speaking way too loudly into her phone.
'Yeah, I went to the gym this morning, and then I went out for a walk and sat by the rocks looking out over the sea. Then I went for a massage and to the sauna because I just needed to chill out, you know? After that, I had a really nice lunch at the bistro there. I might have slipped in a quick glass of wine. Ha! You know how it is.’
Inside, Cally rolled her eyes. She may have tutted.
‘It’s so stressful having children. I mean, I know they’re in school all day, but you know?’
There was a pause for a moment as the woman listened and then continued. ‘I know, right? Let me tell you, Gabs, I have all my meals delivered these days. No way do I have time for food shopping and cooking, you know?’
Another pause.
‘Yeah, right. I need to rush out of the house doing school runs and ballet and stuff, you know?’
The conversation moved to where she was going that evening.
‘I’ve got this lace bodysuit. I was going to wear that with a leather skirt and boots which are high but comfy. I’ve got my black shoes too, which I could wear.' The woman waved foil-wrapped fingers around in front of her. Cally stole a glance further to her left and took in the woman’s filled lips and bladed eyebrows as she continued to yabber on about how hard her life was. She then stopped talking for a minute, leant forwards, squinted at her toenails, and proceeded to admire her pedicure. Cally shook her head to herself as she listened to the woman whining about how stressed she was. Cally sighed; she’d clearly gone wrong somewhere in life. She turned a bit further to her left and took in the golden tan, perfectly coloured hair, the workout clothes with the obnoxiously expensive logo, and the diamond flashing underneath the downlights.
'Oh, we’re going to get a boat in the harbour.'
Cally growled in her head. Sometimes, she felt as if entitled people were purposely trying to not only irritate her but also illuminate just how different their lives were from hers. Here was this woman, not knowing she was born, sitting there complaining about her life in the same breath as talking about having her meals delivered and her visits to the sauna, all whilst sitting in a nail bar with someone tending her feet while on her thousand-pound phone. First-world problems.
Cally didn’t want to feel envious, unkind or, let’s be honest, downright catty, but listening to the whining made her want to grab the woman by the neck and tell her to get a grip. That would go down like a sack of potatoes. She leant back on the nobbly bits kneading her mid-back, closed her eyes for a second, and inhaled as the woman continued to blab on so that the whole salon had little choice but to listen in to the trials and tribulations of her oh-so-very-hard life.
Trying to tune out the conversation, Cally opened her eyes, stared out the window, and watched as a large, black, shiny Mercedes pulled into the curb. A woman with her phone to her ear got out of the car, closed the door, grabbed a bag from the back seat, clicked a button and scooted inside. Every single one of the workers in the shop sat up a bit straighter as the woman hustled in. The girl who was sweeping brushed a bit faster and two girls came running out from the back. The woman, clearly the owner, appeared busy, rich, successful and very much in charge.
Cally watched in fascination as even whilst speaking in a language Cally couldn’t understand, the woman’s voice dripped power and confidence. She listened as the woman switched to English and spoke quickly into her phone. She was clearly instructing someone in another nail shop about something to do with a payment dongle. As the conversation went on, it was clear there was a chain of shops under this businesswoman’s command. Cally looked her up and down. Nail bars were clearly a good business venture. She’d underestimated the sort of wealth that could be accumulated from them, or the place was doing another sort of business underneath the table and not the application of fancy American gel polish.
As Cally sat there, her feet again submerged in the bubbling, fizzing water, she was impressed at the scene unfolding before her. She watched as the woman who had just entered the salon swept through the room like a queen, her head held high and her eyes sharp and focused. She moved with a sense of purpose and authority, her every gesture radiating a fab woman in control.
Cally felt a twinge of envy as she observed the woman, taking in her impeccable appearance and the way she commanded the attention and respect of everyone around her. From her perfectly coiffed hair and flawless makeup to her designer clothes and expensive accessories, everything about her screamed success and achievement. Cally couldn’t get enough of it even though it felt like a stark contrast to her own life. She leant her head back against the rest and thought about the years she’d spent putting her own dreams and aspirations on hold as she’d cared for her grandma. She’d struggled to make ends meet and endeavoured to keep all the balls up in the air. She’d always told herself that it was temporary, that once her responsibilities were fulfilled and she had some money behind her, she’d finally be able to focus on herself and pursue the things that mattered most to her. But it felt a little bit as if time had run away with itself. She’d been stuck not only in a rut, but as the years had stretched on and the challenges had mounted, she’d stagnated, too. She’d felt as if her life was passing her by while everyone else moved forward and achieved their goals. In actual fact, the sad reality was that not only had she not achieved goals, she hadn’t even had any in the first place. She’d not gone off to university, not started a career, not had a decent relationship, not thought about settling down, not really done anything except care and wait. All the while, she’d remained frozen in place, trapped by circumstance and obligation and holding up that blooming sky every day of the week.
And now, sitting in a nail bar, surrounded by women who seemed to have it all figured out, she felt a flush of embarrassment. She knew it was more than futile to compare, but she did it anyway. Well aware that comparisonitis never ended well and that she shouldn’t measure her own worth and value against material possessions and outward appearances, she ploughed on. A vile, nagging voice in the back of her mind whispered that she was so far behind that she’d never, ever catch up.
She thought about the woman on the phone, with her designer workout clothes and her meals delivered to her door, complaining about the stresses and strains of a life that seemed like a dream to Cally. She pondered the nail bar owner and how nice it might feel to run her own business, be in charge of her life.
The girl in front of her flicked her hand as if to say she was finished and brought Cally back to the room. She looked down at her now very pretty toes and wiggled them, marvelling at how different they looked. She couldn’t quite get her head around it. She’d treated herself to a bit of self-care, and her feet now looked as if they belonged to someone else. Polished and put-together even. She nodded to herself, fairly impressed. How bizarre; an hour in a nail bar had resulted in great things. Yes, she had spent most, if not all, of her life putting her own dreams and desires on hold and sacrificing her own happiness and well-being for the sake of others. But somehow, one little pedicure had shown her that it was time to start living for herself. It was time for our Cally to start chasing dreams of her own. There was just one little hurdle to get over before she did.