Gaby Book 17 - Seasons

 
“Is Vilma in?” I queried nervously, I wasn’t the most enthusiastic of customers on Friday but at least the gang was all here, today it’s me and Con come to hold my hand.
“Sorry it’s her day off,” the receptionist advised.
“Oh,” I sagged.
“I think Mitzi’s free?”
“That was the girl who did Steff,” Con whispered in my ear.
“Er yeah, okay,” I agreed.
“What name is it?”
“Um Gaby Bond?”
“Okay, take a seat, she’ll fetch you when she’s ready, oh there’s coffee in the flask.”

“That was lucky,” Con stated passing me a cup of slightly stale coffee. It tasted no better than it smelt either.
“Yeah,” I agreed, not quite sure what was ‘lucky’.
“You usually have to book at least a few days in advance in these places.”

I thought back to Sylv’s place in Warsop, oh it isn’t all flash and ‘modern’ like this place but all her ‘ladies’ would book for the next visit each time – some coming every week. As Drew, my experience of hair cutters ran to the occasional visit to the barbers on Mansfield Road then the occasional tidy up by Sylv when I let it get longer. I flicked through an old copy of Stern, just my luck, the edition with the Munich wedding!

“She’s a beauty eh?” a voice opined, “What I couldn’t do with that hair. Who’s Gaby?”

Well make it blonde again for starters.

“Me,” I allowed.
“Mitzi, come on over, so what can we do?”

“I've checked what she used, it’s a custom mix,” Mitzi advised returning to her station. She’d had to phone Vilma to get the low down as no one else in the store knew what she’d used. “She’s really sorry.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Well the good news is it won’t fade.”
“There's bad news?”
“Well it’s a permanent, it’s not going to wash out.”
“So I'm stuck with pink hair?”
“We could shave your head but otherwise yep,” she agreed.
“There must be something you can do,” I almost begged.
“We could try stripping I suppose.”
“Which is?” I prompted.
“We chemically strip your hair of the colour, it weakens the keratin, makes your hair brittle though.”
“But it’d be back to blonde though?”
“Er not, with your colouring it’d probably be white so we’d need to neutralize it and dye it back.”
“You don’t sound very keen.”
“Well at the moment your hair’s in good condition but stripping it will wreck it, I really wouldn’t recommend it.”
“So I'm stuck with pink?”
“It will probably take a darker colour.”
“Like?”
“Maybe chestnut or black?”

Black, after what I put my sister through when she went to the dark side.

“You’re her aren’t you?”
“Who?” I replied cautiously.
“The girl in that magazine, at that fancy wedding.”
“A,” my lack of cohesive reply was enough confirmation.
“Sugar! You are and we’ve ruined your hair.”
“I might’ve been partly to blame,” I admitted.
“The colour does suit you, maybe we can tone it down a bit,” she suggested, “have to ring the manufacturers to find out what to use.”
“I guess that would help,” I sighed, looks like I'm stuck with pink hair for a while, at least until it’s grown out some.
“Okay, I'll call them, get Joanna to book you in for Wednesday.”

“So you’re stuck with it?” Con queried.
“Looks that way, strip the colour and it’ll snap off, shave it off or dye it black.”
“Not a great range of options,” she agreed, “you could wear a wig?”
“Like that's gonna work.”

“Wassup, Gab?” Mand enquired from the door.

I kept blubbing, curled up on my bed where I'd been since getting home. I felt a weight on the bed then an arm go around me.

“It’ll be alright whatever it is.”
“Won’t,” I sniffled.
“It’s Max isn’t it, you can’t trust any of them.”
“’S’not Max, hair.”
“Thought you went to get it fixed?” she suggested.
“Can’t fix,” I snivelled.
“What do you mean?”
“They can’t get rid of the colour, Mand, I'm stuck with this stupid pink hair until it grows out.”
“You two going to Cheering tonight?” Dad called up.
“Er yeah,” Mand replied, five minutes.”
“Okay.”
“You go, I'll stay here.”
“You, Gaby Bond, are bigger than this, you were fine over the weekend.”
“That was before I knew I was stuck with it.”
“And staying up here does what?”
“Nothing?”
“Yeah, nothing so get that cute bum of yours in gear, show everyone you don’t care what they think, own it!”

She’s probably right, own it indeed. There’s one thing for sure, there’ll be no pretence of being Drew, the boy, now.

“I thought you were getting your hair sorted yesterday,” Bridg proposed in Thesing’s Tuesday morning.
Own it Mand said, “Decided to keep it for now.”
Con gave me a look before adding, “It is kind of cool, Gabs.”
“Wish I was that brave,“ Nena mentioned.

I'd hardly call it brave.

“It’s not like it’s really vivid,” Mand observed as we climbed out of Adenau.
“No it’s not vivid just very pink.”
“According to Connie you didn’t notice straight away.”
“Well I thought it was the lights.”
“At least it goes with the team kit.”
“Yeah, I decided to do my hair pink because it matches our kit, Geez, Mand!”
“Just saying.”
“Can we leave my hair now?”
“So you gonna wear anything but that crystal in your nose?”
“Mand!”
“Okay, okay, it’ll be good seeing Caro at the weekend.”
“Yeah,” I agreed,” wonder who she’s bringing?”
“Laura and Claire I'd guess.”
“What about Sal?”
“You’re Dad said there’re two coming.”
“Maybe there’s a new Wonder Girl they’ve just found.”
“Put us out of a job.”
“Better train harder then, sign!” and I took off for the Quiddelbach sign.
“Gaby!” Mand complained.

Of course when Jules saw my fashion statement I had the Michael taken good and proper.

“Leave your sister alone,” Dad instructed.
“Mum’s gonna go potty,“ Jules suggested.
“That doesn’t give you licence to lay into her.”

Of course I'd had to tell Dad that I'd have pink hair for the foreseeable, it’s not like I can hide it for long is it. I’m not looking forward to Mum getting home, that's one conversation I don’t want to have.

“Well?” Mitzi asked.
“I guess it looks more natural,” I suggested, if pale pink hair can look natural that is.

Mitzi and Vilma had both worked on my Barnet adding various chemicals and bits of foil to add a mixture of highlights and lowlights to my locks so it’s not a uniform colour all through.

“It might not be your natural colour, Gab, but it does work for you,” Vilma opined.
“Remember to come back next month,” Mitzi instructed, “and use that conditioner instead of your own.”

I don’t generally wear my hair loose, it’s nearly always tied up or braided but the way Vilma had done it today wasn’t bad. I certainly look different to usual.

Mum got home Thursday, she was in the kitchen when I got home.

“Mum! Did you win?”
“’Fraid not, come here, gi’s a cuddle.”

Well I'm always a sucker for a huggle with Mum.

“So what happened?”
“Longo mashed us, Erika won stage 2 and I got third on the last stage, not our best week ever.”
“Guess you can’t win them all,” I allowed.
“Your Dad told me about the hair, Gab,” she advised, neatly altering the course of the conversation.
“It was an accident.”
“I might not like it, Gabrielle; but you’re sixteen now, a young woman, you’re old enough to make decisions and deal with the fall out yourself.”
“It’s not like forever,” I pointed out.
“We are here for you, me and your dad, you can come and talk to us.”
“Uh huh.”
“I'm sure we’ll get used to it, it looks nice like that but why are you wearing it down?”
“Vilma suggested I try it, she said I look less like a little kid.”
Mum held me at arm’s length, “Pink or not I have to agree, the tails and braids are practical but you do look more your age with it loose.” She absently tucked a few loose strands behind my ear.
“So, tell me all about The Hell of The North"

Well that went better than I'd hoped.

Maddy Bell © 27.10.16