Love, Lies and Lemon Cake

by Sue Watson

  ‘Thanks. I... I wasn’t talking then... about humping you... if you thought it might be... that?’ I said, shaking my head, digging myself in deeper.

  ‘It’s okay, Faye... really.’

  ‘Yes, but I would hate you to think that I had talked about... told everyone or even thought about... any part... of you.’

  ‘You should stop talking now,’ he whispered, leaning towards me.

  ‘Okay.’ I looked down at the book as he passed it to me, and a secret smile passed between us.

  The whole salon was watching from under their hair and I wanted to die.

  Then he raised his eyebrows, lifted his hand in a saluting gesture and left.

  I wandered back into the salon feeling distinctly sick. I’d once enjoyed sharing my life with the girls here, moaning about Craig, worrying about Emma and complaining about the cost of central heating. But now I saw the salon as an intrusion into my life. Dan was special to me; he was the first person I’d cared about for a long time and a stepping stone into a new, more exciting future, whether he stuck around or not. I gazed around the salon, and for the first time I felt like an observer—the Lithuanian hair dye, Sue’s incessant search for online love, and Mandy’s need for approval were all part of my life, but I wondered if they would soon be part of my past.

  These friends had helped me grow and become the woman I was, and their love and support had helped give me the courage to take those first steps and leave my unhappy marriage. Thanks to them I was moving forward, but the sad part was, in order to really embark on this new journey, I had to leave them behind.

  * * *

  We finished late that night. Mandy did a great job on Julie and she looked beautiful for her wedding, as did the bridesmaids who’d descended the stairs after their ‘session’ with Mandy, hair on end and shell-shocked faces. One could only imagine what those innocent young women had been subjected to that afternoon in The Heavenly Spa—one thing was for sure: they would never be the same again.

  Later that night as Mandy and I enjoyed a chicken tikka, two family bags of Revels and a bottle of white, she told me about her mum.

  ‘She was lovely, Faye. I remember her chasing me through the garden, and I was laughing so much I couldn’t run, and she caught up with me and tickled me. I must have been about five. There are times I can’t actually remember her face, but I can still smell her perfume and feel her tickling me.’

  We talked about her dad’s marriage to her stepmum which, at sixteen, Mandy hadn’t taken well: ‘I refused to go to the wedding. They said I was having a tantrum and I was a troubled teen. But, Faye, Mum had only been gone a year. I still didn’t believe it—and then my dad marries Andrea and she brings her kids along. It was the worst time in my life: I’d lost my mum, then my dad,’ she sighed.

  No one had ever really listened or talked to Mandy since her Mum had died. She’d lost the person she needed most in the world and had donned a plate of armour so no one could ever hurt her again. She had been labelled ‘trouble’ simply for grieving for her mother. I wasn’t surprised that she slept around for love and drank to forget.

  ‘I was still at school and lived for Saturdays when I could come to the salon to work,’ she said. ‘I just felt safe there with you and Sue and the ladies. I love going on holiday but I miss the salon and all of you... and sometimes I dread Sundays and Mondays when the salon’s closed and I have to be at home. Don’t tell Sue but sometimes I even go there at night, when it’s shut... I stayed all night in the spa recently after a row with Andrea.’

  We shed a few tears then watched Sex and the City and marvelled at what life would be like if we lived in New York. I told her about my dream to dance on a rooftop under the stars.

  ‘Oh, Faye, you should so do that, man,’ she said, clasping her hands together with excitement. ‘I can see you in a long frock, hair down, red lipstick, a bit of liner on your upper lashes dancing under those stars... dead classy.’

  I smiled. She actually thought it could happen... me in a big city in a different life. She didn’t laugh or see the flaws; she just accepted it because she believed I could do it if I wanted to. Perhaps it wasn’t such a stupid dream after all—and if Mandy believed in me, why couldn’t I?

  ‘So, Faye, you need to think about your look.’

  ‘Do I?’

  ‘Yeah... you have to start wearing make-up, buying new clothes. You have to stop saying “Don’t look at me, I’m married,” and say, “Hey boys... come and get it.” She was waving her arms in the air and jiggling her breasts.

  I giggled at the prospect. ‘Not sure I can pull that off like you can, Mand,’ I sighed, tearing open the second large bag of Revels. I crammed a handful of chocolates in, vowing I’d starve myself the following day and knowing I wouldn’t, but this was the only way to enjoy guilt-free chocolate.

  ‘Faye, you’re gorgeous... you could have anyone.’

  ‘Oh, perhaps a few years ago, Mandy, but I got pregnant and married and everything stopped. I know I’m always warning you about drinking too much and having sex with strangers, but at least you have fun. When you’re my age, you’ll have no regrets and a lot of good memories,’ I said, my mouth full of chocolate orange Revels. I hate the orange ones. ‘I just wish I’d gone out with more guys when I was younger, lived a bit, you know.’

  ‘Faye, what are you talking about? You are still young.’

  I pulled a face.

  ‘Well, youngish. You can still live it up and meet guys. You’re going out with Bruce, aren’t you, and he’s a bit of all right. You see, you’re getting your mojo on, Faye... you didn’t do it in your twenties ’cos you were saving it for now,’ she smiled.

  I nodded. I liked that.

  ‘Now that you’re single, you could have a vajazzle.’

  ‘Me?’ The old Faye rebelled at the idea, but the new Faye said, ‘Why not?’

  ‘I’ve got my vajazzle exam on Monday afternoon but my bloody model’s dropped out...’

  ‘Do you need a vajazzle model?’ I asked, holding my breath for the response, wondering what I was about to say. ‘I could do it?’

  ‘OMG, Faye... Really?

  I nodded.

  She rummaged around in her beauty kit and offered me an open palm of glittering fake jewels.

  ‘We will cover your lady landscape in priceless jewels.’

  ‘Okay.’ I flinched a little at the phrase ‘we’ when talking about the vajazzling process. ‘We’ conjured up an image of Mandy, Flick and their friend Big Jess clustered around my ‘Lady Landscape’ sticking on paste diamonds like it was a bloody arts and crafts play date.

  ‘They’re quite pretty, aren’t they?’ I said, taking one of Mandy’s jewels and holding it up to the light.

  ‘You won’t regret it, Faye. Men love vajazzles.’

  ‘I’m not having it for a man,’ I said, mildly indignant. ‘I’m having it for me.’

  ‘Yay... You go, girl. Faye, you are turning into a kick-ass cougar!’ she screamed, grabbing the wine bottle and draining it into both our glasses.

  ‘A kiss-ass cougar? Yeah, I guess you’re right,’ I smiled.

  13

  A GLITTERY GROIN AND A SPARKLY FUTURE

  Monday evening I found myself lying on a beauty bed at the local college where Mandy was taking her Advanced Beauty exam. I wanted a glittering ‘Vegas Strip’ as opposed to the more demure and undecorated, ‘Landing Strip’—if I was going to do it, I might as well do it big. I was quite excited as I lay on the beauty bed while Mandy mixed up lotions and potions before ferreting around my bikini line and shouting; ‘Oh, my God! When was the last time you waxed?’

  ‘I only wax for holidays,’ I said, embarrassed.

  ‘Well, now you’re single, you need to be ever ready,’ she said, looking up from my thighs and wagging a finger. The job of being a single woman was more time-consuming than I’d imagined, with regular waxes, fake tans, pedicures for naked toes and cellulite rubs so you didn’t scare them when the lights w
ent on. I couldn’t imagine when these brave new single girls found time for the obligatory ten minutes with the rampant rabbit.

  It was like starting a new school and needing a list of equipment and uniform requirements, and each day was a revelation as more kit was added to the list. I just hoped this vajazzle was low-maintenance and if I did ever have sex with Dan I wouldn’t be leaving a jewelled calling card in his twisted sheets.

  Mandy told me she’d wax first, and to relax and lie back, but as a vajazzle virgin I didn’t know what to expect so was a little tense, especially with a swearing, chortling Mandy between my legs. Her ‘bedside manner’ left a lot to be desired, and as she applied boiling hot wax and I whimpered slightly, she laughed, ‘You think this hurts? Wait till I rip it off... it will hurt like A BITCH!’

  I can only liken Mandy’s Brazilian waxing method to pouring petrol on the vagina, waiting a few seconds, then taking a lit match to it. According to the Beauty Examiner (a fully paid-up member of the Marquis de Sade Olympic team), ‘The Brazilian tests the skill of the technician, while providing a blank canvas for the art.’

  I couldn’t scream or cry or thrash around in pain, because Mandy might fail the exam, so I clutched at the beauty bed and grimaced throughout. I blamed my watering eyes on the chemicals and told the examiner my whimpering was merely humming, but as I pointed out later to Mandy, it was in fact more painful than childbirth.

  The next stage was the ‘jewel application’, which wasn’t actually painful, but was psychological torture watching Mandy at my now throbbing groin with a pair of tweezers, medical-grade adhesive and a bag of glitter.

  ‘I’m doing a special picture just for you made of real crystals. OMG, it will be crayzee!’ Mandy enthused from my nether regions. I had been quite thrilled at the prospect of a vajazzle, but the pain had taken its toll and I’d never felt more vulnerable as she carefully positioned each jewel, while growling like a tiger.

  After a tortuous ninety minutes, which felt like three years, Mandy looked up and announced, ‘It’s finished!’ It certainly felt like the end. Burning agony had now turned to just plain agony but I could see the pattern glinting from where I was and lifted my head, mustering a pained smile and a groggy, ‘It’s lovely.’

  ‘Nice cup of tea?’ Mandy offered. Yes, it was just like childbirth.

  Mandy’s friend Trish waltzed over and peered down. Her make-up was orange and her eyelashes so long I swear they tickled my flesh as she swept them across my groin.

  ‘Grrr,’ she roared, waving her long blue nails like claws, which didn’t make any sense—but then much of what Mandy and her friends did made no sense.

  The examiner appeared from behind the curtain like something out of a medical drama, inspecting me, tutting and taking notes like I’d just had a big op. I couldn’t wait to get out, and as soon as she’d diagnosed ‘excellent’ and swept back behind the curtain, I was off the vajazzling bed. ‘Can we go now, Mand?’ I called across to her chatting with a group of girls. I could think only of submerging my crystal-bedecked vagina in a very cold bath.

  ‘Cool your tits, Faye. She can’t wait to go home and show her sparkly pussy off, can you?’ she giggled to the girls.

  ‘No. Mandy, I’m in pain, actually,’ I huffed, trying not to think about my fiery ‘lady landscape,’ which was emanating more heat than the sun.

  ‘Okay, I just need to pack my gear,’ she said, marching back to me, ‘then we’ll get off. You okay?’

  I nodded, while gingerly stepping into my big pants. ‘Thanks, Mandy, it looks lovely from what I could see, from upside down.’

  Having walked out of the building, we were now striding through the car park and, despite the tenderness and pain, I felt a rush. To look at me, no one would guess that my vagina was covered in crystals—who’d have ever thought Faye Dobson would have a vajazzle? I was surprising myself. I’d never have done this when I was married; Craig wasn’t one for anything fancy or different. If I’d had a vajazzle when we were married and he’d seen those crystals, he’d think he was hallucinating.

  ‘So, which lucky man is going to see your vajazzle first, Faye?’ Mandy asked as we got in the car.

  I was climbing in gingerly: ‘Oh, who knows?’ I giggled, then groaned as I manoeuvred gently into my seat. ‘So many men, so little time.’

  I put on my sunglasses, started the car and applied new red lippy in the car mirror. ‘You are looking good, girlfriend,’ Mandy smiled. ‘I reckon you could pass for thirty- five... and your lady garden glitz will just blow his mind. You go, girl!’

  * * *

  At work the next day, my crystal vagina was the talk of the salon, and Sue decided it would be good for advertising Mandy’s skills to show clients what she had done.

  ‘Go upstairs with Faye and have a look at her crystal fairy,’ she said, which made her sound like a Madame and made me feel like a prostitute. I refused of course, but both Sue and Mandy made me feel like I had something to hide, so after much harassment I allowed them to take a photo.

  Mandy soon had several ‘shots’ of my vajazzle and left me in peace, but showed them to anyone who asked. They all gasped in awe and said how clever she was while Sue took several bookings off the back of my ‘glittery triangle’.

  Later when Mr York, one of the local councillors, came in for his short back and sides, Sue’s opening comment was, ‘Have you ever seen a vajazzle, Bill?’ I knew what was coming next, so before she began flashing the photo around, I left the salon and went for a walk—a line had to be drawn.

  I was feeling like an observer again and questioning everything. Where else in the world would one’s co-workers take pictures of your vagina and show them to clients? I loved them all, but my groin being the talking point of the salon was just one more reason to run away.

  I’d come a long way from quiet Faye who went home every night to a loveless marriage and sausage and mash, to a single woman with a sparkly groin and an even more sparkly future. I smiled secretly and wondered just what that future held for the new Faye Dobson.

  14

  ANYTHING COULD HAPPEN!

  It was a warm April day, the air fresh and light with the promise of summer, and for the first time in ages I was excited about what it would bring. There was no annual fortnight in Weston-super-Mare, no overheated appliances, no endless Sundays watching Craig heal white goods with the laying on of hands like an evangelist plumber. There were no certainties anymore, and I had fallen in love with those three little words: Anything could happen.

  For most people, the signs of early summer are new buds, emerging leaves and birdsong, but in Curl up and Dye it was hair removal, sun-kissed highlights, fake tans and shiny pedicures for the beach.

  I could barely contain myself I was so excited and nervous about going ice skating with Dan. I smiled and nodded at my clients who chatted away about their kids, their holidays—and I didn’t hear a word. I’m ashamed to say I also didn’t care who had what on their hair or why. All I could think of was Dan and I Ice dancing to Bolero like Torvill and Dean.

  It was on my list because I’d only ever been to the ice rink a few times in my life, and everyone else just seemed to take to the ice gliding effortlessly along while I clung hysterically to the barrier. I was always so scared and stiff that when I eventually plucked up courage to venture out onto the ice, my legs would fly from under me and I’d end up in a crumpled heap. I’d watch my friends, envying their elegance and grace on the slippery ground, but as they chatted and glided, I just body-slammed barriers and jerked across the rink. Consequently, as all my friends were whipping round, ponytails in the air, legs smooth and swaying, I’d be in the first-aid room being strapped up. I wondered at the wisdom of going to this arena with Dan. Did I really want him to see my inelegant lack of co-ordination?

  As Dan helped me onto the rink, I clung to him like a limpet, insisting he stay with me and not leave me alone under any circumstances. He was calm and gentle and clearly at ease on skates, but my nerves g
ot the better of me and I stiffened as soon as he moved me away from the barrier. Instead of being impatient or disapproving, he was smiling, both arms guiding me gently across the deadly sheen. ‘You’ll be fine. Relax into it, Faye, you’re too uptight. What’s the worst that can happen?’

  ‘Concussion? Leading to brain swelling, deep coma and then... death?’ I offered as my legs began to go in different directions. ‘Aargh... stop! Get me off!’ I screamed, as little kids skated easily past me. I pulled away from Dan and made a lunge for the barrier, almost knocking him out of the way. It was probably the most ungainly display ever seen at that rink, but he was still smiling. After a few seconds’ recovery, I looked around to see him waving at me from the other side. I smiled, and tried to wave back, which inadvertently caused me to do the splits and two kids had to get underneath my armpits and heave me back up against the safety of the barrier.

  Desperately hoping Dan hadn’t witnessed this circus, I spotted him in the distance, through the throng of skaters. He was whizzing around the rink, so fast and strong yet so relaxed, so laid-back. Nothing ever fazes him, I thought as he deliberately turned direction to skate towards oncoming hordes, swerving and bending, just missing the other skaters by a whisper. I had to close my eyes, fully expecting to see a twenty-seven-person pile-up on the ice. I couldn’t watch, it was so scary, and when, after several laps of honour, he rolled up at my side panting, his face flushed and cold, I was in quite a state.

  ‘Oh, God, Dan... you just kept going and... how did you do that?’

  ‘I was trying to show you how much fun it is. It’s exhilarating. You just have to relax.’

  ‘You are kidding,’ I was saying, shaking my head and walking like a robot as he led me... well, forced me back onto the ice. He held me firmly around the waist, let me stay near the barrier, but kept talking, telling me it was fine as he guided me slowly round. I was beginning to feel a little calmer after a few minutes, only screaming if someone went past me too fast or bumped into me. We continued for a while slowly, until I could feel us gradually gaining speed.