Curly CutsKit rushed from the university to her meeting of the Women with Curls at Debbie’s house. She arrived feeling ragged and disturbed by inner fears which wouldn’t lie down so she could ignore them. She found Debbie’s house filled with the usual brand of curly chaos associated with the women.
“Hi, Kit.” Pam embraced her with a warm hug and narrowed her eyes. “We need to talk about that lube you sold to Debbie.” Kit cringed and nodded as her happy metre drooped a little lower.
“Your son told me,” she admitted. “He helped me with the parking metre at the uni.”
“Cool.” Pam’s face brightened. “I’m glad he went to class for once.” She patted Kit’s shoulder and drifted away to clear up a spat about a new brand of conditioner advertised on the television. “Don’t even think about it, ladi
