She had to stop and try to understand that. Perhaps it was because that was the last time she’d been herself. Not Tom’s wife. Not Gavin and Katie’s mother.
Taking a deep breath, she dialled again.
‘Beauty International. How may we help you?’ cooed a young woman’s voice.
‘Do you do those makeovers on older women?’ Emily demanded. ‘I’m forty-six and I look a right old mess.’
‘Of course, madam. Our service can help anyone.’
‘How much do you charge?’
‘Three hundred dollars for a complete makeover, madam.’
Emily gasped and couldn’t speak for a minute, so shocked was she at the amount.
The voice became husky and confidential. ‘I know it sounds a lot, madam, but just think what you get. A hairstyle by Mr Benjamin himself – and he’s the best hairstylist in Perth, I do assure you – and a facial and remake by our Mrs Wentworth. She used to be in films, you know. She’s done the stars, she has. There’s no one to touch her for make-up, I promise you. And finally our Miss Dashley will take you shopping for a new outfit. She has a real eye for what suits people and she knows all the best places.’
Emily found herself smiling. Well, they’d certainly earn their three hundred dollars with her! They’d have an impossible job making someone like her look glamorous. Oh, why not? With all that insurance money just lying in the bank she could easily afford to spend a bit on herself.
She’d had no idea that her Tom had taken out such massive life insurance, but then, he’d always tried to look after her.
‘Are you still there, madam?’
‘Yes. I’m thinking about it. It’s a lot of money to spend – well, it is for me, anyway. What if I don’t like the makeover?’
The voice became haughty. ‘I can assure you, madam, that no one has ever been dissatisfied with one of our makeovers.’
‘There’s always a first time.’ Emily prided herself on being practical. ‘Go on. Tell me what happens if I don’t like it.’
‘In that case, madam, our watertight guarantee comes into operation. You may either have your money back – in full – or you may have another makeover, entirely at our expense.’
‘Hmm. Well, that sounds fair enough. Book me in for one.’
She did the best she could for her birthday tea at Katie’s, but in the end she couldn’t bring herself to wear the black dress with sticky young fingers around.
On the way out she paused in the hall. ‘You wait!’ she told that mirror. ‘Two more days and you won’t recognize me.’
She hoped.
By the time Emily arrived at Beauty International two days later, she had a million butterflies practising for the Olympics in her stomach. She’d never even been into a beauty salon before and hadn’t told Katie or the girls at work what she was doing. Well, the young ones would laugh at the idea of someone her age going to a beauty salon and the older ones would wonder if she had a new man in view.
Beauty International was in one of the top city hotels. Emily had never even been anywhere which oozed luxury as this place did. She and Tom had always rented holiday flats when they went away, and she’d done the cooking, with perhaps one or two meals out, for a treat.
When a doorman in a top hat flourished her a bow as he held the door open she inclined her head in thanks, unable to speak for nervousness.
She paused just inside the foyer. She hadn’t realized it would be so big. Where did she go now?
Away in the distance, across a mile of thick carpet patterned with pastel leaves and flowers (she was glad she didn’t have the cleaning of that!) there was a sign saying ‘RECEPTION’.
As she made her way over to it, she felt sure everyone was staring at her, wondering what such a scruffy person was doing in a place like this. She hadn’t liked to wear the black crêpe just to get her hair cut and her face made-up, but if she went on like this, that dress would never come out of the wardrobe again.
An elegant
Taking a deep breath, she dialled again.
‘Beauty International. How may we help you?’ cooed a young woman’s voice.
‘Do you do those makeovers on older women?’ Emily demanded. ‘I’m forty-six and I look a right old mess.’
‘Of course, madam. Our service can help anyone.’
‘How much do you charge?’
‘Three hundred dollars for a complete makeover, madam.’
Emily gasped and couldn’t speak for a minute, so shocked was she at the amount.
The voice became husky and confidential. ‘I know it sounds a lot, madam, but just think what you get. A hairstyle by Mr Benjamin himself – and he’s the best hairstylist in Perth, I do assure you – and a facial and remake by our Mrs Wentworth. She used to be in films, you know. She’s done the stars, she has. There’s no one to touch her for make-up, I promise you. And finally our Miss Dashley will take you shopping for a new outfit. She has a real eye for what suits people and she knows all the best places.’
Emily found herself smiling. Well, they’d certainly earn their three hundred dollars with her! They’d have an impossible job making someone like her look glamorous. Oh, why not? With all that insurance money just lying in the bank she could easily afford to spend a bit on herself.
She’d had no idea that her Tom had taken out such massive life insurance, but then, he’d always tried to look after her.
‘Are you still there, madam?’
‘Yes. I’m thinking about it. It’s a lot of money to spend – well, it is for me, anyway. What if I don’t like the makeover?’
The voice became haughty. ‘I can assure you, madam, that no one has ever been dissatisfied with one of our makeovers.’
‘There’s always a first time.’ Emily prided herself on being practical. ‘Go on. Tell me what happens if I don’t like it.’
‘In that case, madam, our watertight guarantee comes into operation. You may either have your money back – in full – or you may have another makeover, entirely at our expense.’
‘Hmm. Well, that sounds fair enough. Book me in for one.’
She did the best she could for her birthday tea at Katie’s, but in the end she couldn’t bring herself to wear the black dress with sticky young fingers around.
On the way out she paused in the hall. ‘You wait!’ she told that mirror. ‘Two more days and you won’t recognize me.’
She hoped.
By the time Emily arrived at Beauty International two days later, she had a million butterflies practising for the Olympics in her stomach. She’d never even been into a beauty salon before and hadn’t told Katie or the girls at work what she was doing. Well, the young ones would laugh at the idea of someone her age going to a beauty salon and the older ones would wonder if she had a new man in view.
Beauty International was in one of the top city hotels. Emily had never even been anywhere which oozed luxury as this place did. She and Tom had always rented holiday flats when they went away, and she’d done the cooking, with perhaps one or two meals out, for a treat.
When a doorman in a top hat flourished her a bow as he held the door open she inclined her head in thanks, unable to speak for nervousness.
She paused just inside the foyer. She hadn’t realized it would be so big. Where did she go now?
Away in the distance, across a mile of thick carpet patterned with pastel leaves and flowers (she was glad she didn’t have the cleaning of that!) there was a sign saying ‘RECEPTION’.
As she made her way over to it, she felt sure everyone was staring at her, wondering what such a scruffy person was doing in a place like this. She hadn’t liked to wear the black crêpe just to get her hair cut and her face made-up, but if she went on like this, that dress would never come out of the wardrobe again.
An elegant
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