wages – not where I worked, they didn’t. Had to rely on tips from ladies you’d shampooed. And I used to cut kids’ hair at home in Ruth Street. Charged sixpence for it. Big money, sixpence was, to an apprentice!’
‘But how did you manage for two years without pay?’ Lorna heard the first crisp snip and closed her eyes again.
‘I managed because Auntie Agnes paid my tram fares into work for two years. She paid my premium, an’ all. To get into a good salon there had to be a hefty fifty quid, up front. But Dale’s was the best in town and I’ve got to admit that the tips there were good – thank God!’
‘Called after your Auntie Agnes, weren’t you?’ Another snip, and a shower of fine hair falling to the floor. ‘Fond of her?’
‘Oh, ar. I was her favourite. She never had kids of her own, so I was the lucky one. She paid my premium without so much as a quibble and I said she would never want for a free hairdo, once I’d learned enough. Oh, it was lovely when I got to be an improver. I could have my own regular customers, then, though I had to do my own shampooing. Fifteen shillings a week I got. Plus tips. I felt real rich and Auntie Agnes and Mam and Nan got theirs done free. I even cut me Da’s hair. I liked cuttin’. Still do.’
‘I can see you do.’ Lorna gazed, fascinated, at the growing pile of fair hair. ‘Will you be long?’
‘Just thinin’ it first, then I’ll shape it; take each strand and cut it between my fingers so it lays just right. A Maria cut, it’ll be.’
‘I – I see.’ Lorna had never heard of a Maria cut. ‘And it’ll look all right? You’re sure?’
‘When I’ve finished with you, Modom, your hair’ll look so good you’ll wish you’d had a Maria years ago. Now shurrup, will you? You’re distractin’ me. Just trust me, eh?’
Famous last words. Lorna closed her eyes and counted the snips.
‘There now! All done! Took me longer than I thought,’ Ness beamed, half an hour later. ‘But you can’t hurry good cuttin’. Now, you washed it this afternoon, you said, so I’ll just rinse it through and show you how to dry it. Hair’s got to be treated gentle, not tugged and pulled and dried in front of a hot fire! Now, pop over to the sink and I’ll get a jug of rainwater from the tub. And keep your hands off it!’
But too late came the warning. To a cry of,
‘You – you’ve scalped me!’ Lorna gazed at the pile of hair on the kitchen floor.
‘Ar. Enough there to stuff a cushion,’ Ness grinned. ‘I’ll just take the chill off this water then I’ll give you a rinse. And I haven’t scalped you. All I’ve done is cut your hair to a length of three inches all over your head, and when it’s dry it’ll fall into soft little curls – fronds, like. You’ll like it, honest. Now lean over the sink, and you’re not to look at it till it’s dry.’
‘I won’t.’ She wouldn’t! She had no wish to see herself all bare and shorn. And as for stuffing a cushion – more to the point was what would William say!
Not long after, when Ness had rinsed and patted and dabbed, then gently massaged Lorna’s scalp with her fingertips, she said,
‘There! You can have a look. And if I say so myself it’s –’
‘Ness! Oh, I don’t believe it! It’s marvellous! And so soft, too.’
‘Well, then – from now on there’ll be no more tearing at it. Just wash it in rainwater two or three times a week, then leave it to dry on its own. You ladies with naturally curly hair don’t know how lucky you are. It takes years off you!’
‘I know. I look like a little girl!’
‘But you like it?’
‘Like it? I love it!’ Lorna sighed. She did. After all the worrying, she really did!
‘Then tomorrow night I’ll have to go at your eyebrows. They’re a lovely shape, but they’re like your hair was. Too much of a good thing. They need tidying up underneath and they shouldn’t meet at the top of your nose, either.’
‘Ness – how come you know so much about things?’
‘Because there was a cosmetic department in our salon and the lady in charge taught me a lot. Mind, I did her hair for her for nothing – on the quiet, like. Anyway, a word to the wise, Lorna. She told me that the traveller she orders Dale’s beauty products from said there was going to be a shortage of cosmetics before so very much longer. “A quiet word in your ear,” he said to her. “You’ll not be able to get cosmetics for love nor money before long.” So me and her stocked up. I reckon you should go round the shops in York as soon as you can. Keep it under your hat, mind. Get yourself some mascara and –’
‘But I don’t use mascara!’
‘From now on you do – with eyelashes that fair. Get some grey mascara. Black is too stark for your colouring. And you’ll need a rose-tinted lipstick and a pot of cold cream and a tin of Nivea. And whilst you’re at it, get a box of face powder, too. Rose Rachel shade. Why don’t you take a trip into town to celebrate your new hair? I’m tellin’ you, queen, there’s going to be a shortage on the cosmetics front. And get yourself some eyebrow tweezers, an’ all.’
‘Whatever is William going to say when he sees me – plucked eyebrows, too.’ Lorna took a long look at her hair, flicking curls onto her face, her forehead, loving the freedom of it, and the softness.
‘If he’s got any sense at all he’ll say “Wow!” and let go a wolf whistle.’ Yet for all that, Ness knew he wouldn’t, especially when he discovered the land girl had had a hand in it! She and William were on a collision course, even before they had met! ‘So what say we have a cup of tea to celebrate?’
‘Tea? There’s sherry in the sideboard. Let’s drink to my escape from the frizzies with a real drink!’
‘Well! Aren’t you going to say something, Nance?’ They had cycled the length of Priory Lane and waited at the roadside for a break in the traffic. ‘You’ve been giving me looks ever since we left Ainsty!’
‘Sorry. Thought it rude to pass comment.’
‘So you think I’ve gone too far?’ The haircut no one could quarrel with, Lorna thought apprehensively, but maybe plucked eyebrows and lipstick – even in so delicate a shade as English Rose – was a bit much.
‘Too far? It was a bit of a shock at first – you looked so much younger. But since you ask, Lorna, I do like it – the hair, I mean, though I never thought to see you wearing lipstick. You never have before. Whatever made you do it?’
‘It was my idea entirely,’ she hedged, determined to keep Ness out of it. ‘I decided long hair isn’t on in wartime; for women who work in factories it can be downright dangerous. That’s why they’ve got to wear snoods. And short hair is more hygienic. They say you can get nits on trains these days. And women in the Armed Forces aren’t allowed to wear their hair long, either, so what’s so special about me?’ she finished breathlessly, making a dash for the other side of the road. ‘And why not lipstick?’
‘Well, it’s
