Side Parting

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FOUR

A Curly Adversary“I’m not b****y marvellous!” Kit’s fingers shook as she tweaked a red curl in the mirror of the downstairs cloak room.

Piper had sneaked in behind her and locked the door. Her friend closed the lid of the toilet and sat down, leaning her elbows on her knees and resting her chin on her fists. “I tried to warn you,” she said. “She played you like a fiddle.”

“I know!” Kit’s face crumpled into a mask of despair. Her shoulders slumped as she turned and leaned her back against the tiny sink. “I can’t do it. I’ll have to pretend I’m sick on the day.” Her new found resolve dribbled down the plug hole.

“You can’t do that. Wait until the girls find out you’re giving free Curly advice and demonstrations.” Kit glanced back in time to see Piper roll her eyes. “I wouldn’t want to be you.”

Kit’s knees trembled, and she reached her hand back to grip the edge of the sink. “And why am I only now finding out about a grand finale?”

Piper’s eyelashes fluttered closed, and a beatific smile settled over her lips. “It’s gonna be amazing,” she sighed. “All the big towns in New Zealand will compete for the Curl Queen’s coveted trophy.” Her eyes popped open. “Win it for us.”

“No, no, no!” Kit pressed her fingers over her eyes. “This isn’t fair. I’m exhausted. What happened to my dreams of free weekends and lazy days at home?”

Piper’s face scrunched into a mask of confusion. “But you work for Mr Rashid. And don’t you have to man the shop on alternate weekends now you’ve finished your course?”

Kit groaned and stared at the ceiling. “Just let me pretend for a little longer, please?”

Piper shrugged. “It won’t change the fact you just volunteered to spend the whole day with Debbie.” She grinned at Kit’s growled curse. “What if she wants you to use her for the demonstration?” She rose and unlocked the door.

“No. No way!” Kit lurched for the back of Piper’s shirt. Her grasping fingers seized a chunk of her collar, causing Piper to cough as it constricted her throat. “Get back here! I’m demonstrating on you and that’s it.”

Piper wrinkled her nose. She turned in the small space to wriggle free of Kit’s choke hold. “That won’t work. You have to give four demonstrations across the entire day and then the grand finale. You need four other people.”

A familiar tightening sent spasms into the muscles of Kit’s chest. Shallow breathing caused her lips to tingle and a primal scream to form behind her ribcage. “I quit,” she croaked. “I b****y hate these women. That’s it. I’m done.”

“Just breathe.” Piper placed her hands on Kit’s shoulders, her forehead furrowing into fine lines. “Everything is fine. You’ve weathered much worse.” Her fingers tensed in a comforting massage. “You can demonstrate on my hair for the grand finale. We’ll find four more Curlies for the other slots.”

“I want nice Curlies only,” Kit whispered. A yawn cut her sentence in half. “Not Debbie.”

“Okay.” Piper gave her a conspiratorial wink. “We can do a name-in-the-hat draw at the next meeting. I’ll rig the results.”

“Thank you, thank you.” Kit wrapped her arms around her friend’s neck and breathed in the scent of baby powder and pureed apple. Together they walked back into the lounge and prepared to resume the torturous part of the meeting, where Sharon ran through the dismal state of the accounts and argued with Debbie about her spending. Kit had snoozed through the last two gatherings, despite Piper’s nudges.

“Come on then.” Piper strode across the expanse of fluffy carpet with a light step, but Kit froze in the lounge doorway.

“You!” She lifted a shaking finger and pointed it at the blonde woman who’d taken her place on the sofa. Fear and rage mingled in her chest to create the kind of vitriol which would drive Langdon’s hands to cover his ears. “You got me arrested!” Exhaustion and disappointment added to the other emotions as Kit balled her fists by her sides. Piper halted half way across the room and her eyes bulged like golf balls. She glanced towards Kit’s nemesis with a wince.

“What’s happening? Why is she here?” Kit’s gaze tracked to Sharon, then Debbie, before resting on Pam. “Why wouldn’t you warn me she was coming?”

Debbie gave a dramatic huff. “You can’t decide who we’re allowed to invite!” Her breasts wobbled beneath her blouse as she turned to face Kit. “It’s a committee. Not the Kit Maguire appreciation society.”

“Let’s all calm down.” Sharon patted the air with her right hand, though she shot a raised eyebrow in Kit’s direction.

“Meaning me? You want me to calm down.” Exhaustion and disappointment bit at the back of Kit’s psyche. Questions revolved around her brain as her safe place grew a floor made from barbed wire.

“We need Cindy’s help with the Expo.” Debbie’s jaw acquired a hard angle through her cheek, and she folded her arms. “I invited her, and she’s staying. You need to get over it.”

“I need to get over it?” Kit’s voice rose to a screech. She stared at Cindy, seeing a smirk break out across the woman’s painted lips. Temper flared in Kit’s breast. “I’m not staying if she’s here!” she shouted. She spun to face Piper, expecting her solidarity. Her eyes widened as Piper stared down at a loose button on her blouse. She lifted her index finger and flicked it, her cheeks reddening as she avoided Kit’s gaze.

“Wow.” Kit stared around the room. Debbie glared at her, but the other women fought to avoid eye contact. “Okay.” She settled her shaking fingers over her hips. “Fine then. I quit.”

“I’m sure we can sort this out.” Ever the peace maker, Pam rose with a hand outstretched towards her. She used her best placatory voice to dampen the fire raging in Kit’s eyes. Her tone reduced her dispute to that of a five-year-old throwing a tantrum. It lit the fuse of her rage and her fists balled by her sides.

“They arrested me, and she said nothing!” Her voice shook. She jabbed her shaking finger in Cindy’s direction before facing her.

The new Curly of a few months ago had morphed into a butterfly. Coiled blonde ringlets cascaded over her shoulders. Veins bulged against Kit’s neck as she shook her head in disgust. “You let the cops think I’d killed Mr Roy.” She closed her eyes as a wave of sadness crept up her spine and settled at the back of her neck. Her venom surprised her. She hadn’t realised she held Cindy responsible for one cataclysmic day which had changed her life forever. A safe bubble had shrouded her existence until that day. Then she’d lost her job, her freedom, and almost her home. Because of Cindy’s silence.

Her shoulders slumped, and she squeezed the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. The unfairness percolating through her life hit her in the stomach.

Pam took a nervous step towards her. “We invited Cindy here,” she affirmed, doubling the body blow. “She studied hairdressing at college.”

“She’s a computer programmer!” Kit’s voice held an uncharacteristic screech.

Cindy rose, her neat stilettos forming a triangle at the bottom of tapered calves and sickeningly neat ankles. “You ladies inspired me so much that I did the refresher course in Melbourne run by the Queen of Curl herself.” She fixed a determined gaze on Kit. “I qualified as a hairdresser when I left school. My father wanted me to run his company, so I went back to study IT at university to help him.” She gave a nonchalant shrug. “He sold the business two months ago, so I can return to what I love.” Her torso dipped as though taking a bow of its own accord. Kit’s gaze slid to the other members of the WWC committee. Sharon appeared to melt under the lorry load of sugar, and Pam’s eyelids fluttered. Kit couldn’t look at Debbie. Cindy patted her chest with fingers edged by long, powder blue nails. “I’m happy to take the lead with the Expo if you think I’m suitable.” Her jaw ground her teeth together in an almost imperceptible movement.

Kit nodded. An opportunity for deliverance presented itself. “I quit,” she affirmed, her voice stronger. She strode across the room with determined steps. Her socks swished against the plush navy carpet. The bend in her spine appeared wooden as she snatched her handbag off the sofa and stalked towards the hallway. She didn’t stop to fasten her plimsolls, jamming her feet into them and escaping through the front door. The laces flapped around her feet as she walked down the driveway to her yellow car. Unused to the sudden darkness, she squinted as her fingers fumbled in her bag for her keys. She hauled on her fluffy keyring with such vigour it detached from the metal link and flew backwards with her sharp yank. It disappeared into the bushes surrounding Pam’s manicured garden. Too angry to engage in a search for it by the light of her phone torch, Kit abandoned it in favour of escaping before someone followed her to talk her out of resigning.

“I thought I recognised the car.” The voice issued from the shadows, and Kit looked up with a scream. Jackson Delaney’s eyes widened, and he reached for her, clapping a hand over her mouth. “b****y hell!” he hissed. “Sorry.”

Kit’s heart rate shot to geriatric levels, and she dropped her handbag. Its contents clattered and tinkled as they hit the pavement. Laboured breathing stopped her thinking straight, and she lurched forward, wrapping her arms around the police officer’s neck with relief. His Kevlar vest dug into her soft places, and the unexpectedness of the embrace pitched him backwards against her car with a grunt.

“Er, hi,” he whispered against the side of her face. “I’m on a late shift and thought I’d drive around the suburbs.”

Kit sighed against his shoulder and closed her eyes. “My warrant of fitness is out of date,” she confessed.

“I know.” Jackson’s arms tightened around her. “And so is your car registration.”