Maggie turned her head from side to side. She had a neck! Who knew? ‘Yes, please. That sounds good,’ she said. And then, because Suzanne had such kind brown eyes and seemed to really care about Maggie’s hair, she found herself adding, ‘I just want to feel more confident, to be honest. I’ve felt a bit . . . invisible lately. An invisible middle-aged woman. You know?’

Suzanne probably didn’t know, because even though she looked as if she might be a similar age to Maggie, she had beautiful dark-auburn hair that tumbled halfway down her back, thick and strong, and a really sharp fringe that fell just above her eyebrows. You could have used it as a ruler, it was so straight and angular. Not for Suzanne the humbling cloak of invisibility – and yet she was nodding sympathetically. ‘It’s a shock, isn’t it, when you realize you’re getting older,’ she said. ‘It happens to us all. But let’s see what I can do to help. Now, did you want any colour today, with the cut? We’re fairly quiet this morning, so I could do that for you as well, if you wanted.’

Colour! Maggie hadn’t dyed her hair since she was a student, and that had been with cheap packet dyes that left her hair unnatural shades of tomato soup and aubergine. ‘Um . . .’ she said apprehensively.

‘We have some lovely warm tones that might just soften things up a bit, that’s all,’ Suzanne went on. ‘A nice shiny chestnut, perhaps, or more of a cocoa brown . . . Shall I show you the range so you can have a think?’

Maggie glanced in the mirror at the sprinkling of grey hairs that speckled her parting. Remembered how some of the Year 9s she taught had commented on them at the end of term and started calling her ‘Granny Laine’. She was not a vain person by any means, but even so, she didn’t want anyone thinking of her in grandmotherly terms just yet. Take the plunge! the banner from her dream encouraged her and she found herself nodding. ‘Yes, please,’ she replied, suddenly emboldened. ‘Why not?’

This was nice, she thought a few minutes later as a younger woman washed her hair and gave her a head massage so blissful it sent shivers down her body. When had anyone last touched her like this? It felt so good, so luxurious. She was not a naturally touchy-feely person herself, wasn’t the type to go around hugging or kissing others willy-nilly, but her whole body was reacting to this woman’s fingers as if it had been starved of attention for the longest time. As if she was ravenous for the human touch.