ten
“First stop is the hairdresser’s.” Shelly was perched on Rose’s bed, painting her toenails a romantic pink hue.
Rose regarded her friend over the top of her latest chick-lit novel. “What were you planning?”
“For me, a cut and highlights,” Shelly grinned, “and for you, I thought a complete colour change would be good.”
“Hang on a minute!” Rose inserted a bookmark and closed her novel. “My hair’s always been this colour and I happen to like it.”
“Really!” Shelly’s tone was derisory. “You always told me you hated your hair.”
“It’s naturally curly,” Rose pulled out a ringlet, “there’s not much I can do with it. I tried straightening it once, remember? It was a disaster.”
“I’m not criticising your glorious curls. I meant the colour and the length. You really could do with a g
