Alison wasn’t sure what to say for a moment. Gosh, was that Jeanie Mortimer being vulnerable? She couldn’t remember ever seeing her unsure of herself like this before. ‘Age is just a number,’ she reminded her kindly. This was what she told all her clients who came to her, doubtful and lacking in confidence. ‘Who wants to act their age, anyway? Not me.’

Jeanie gave her a rueful smile and then her face cleared, an idea seemingly occurring to her. ‘Oh – Alison. I’ve just thought. You’re a hairdresser, aren’t you? I don’t suppose you could do me a huge favour and sort this mess out for me sometime, could you?’ She tugged at a strand of her hair. ‘This is what I mean about acting my age . . . I went and booked myself in for a makeover at the hotel, thinking I was a spring chicken, when . . .’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Turns out I’m mutton after all.’

‘You’re not mutton!’ Alison told her, tutting. She hated that word and the way it made women feel. ‘And of course I can change the style for you. Let me find my diary and see when I’m free.’

‘Thank you,’ Jeanie said, as Alison pulled out her appointment notebook and began rifling through. ‘I’m too embarrassed to go to my usual stylist, because I know they’ll tell me off for it. Deluded fool that I am.’

‘Hey, we all do foolish things,’ Alison said. Goodness me, so the woman was fallible after all, she thought, startled. Whenever Alison had seen Jeanie previously, she’d always been organizing a buffet or in charge of the teapot, the hostess with the mostest, running the show. And as such, Alison had held her up as – well, not the enemy exactly, but certainly somebody better than her, somebody with a richer, fuller life than herself. A person to be envied.

In actual fact, she was just a woman who loved her grandchildren to bits, who was fretting about her son’s bad behaviour and happened to be sporting an unfortunate haircut into the bargain. Your average human being, in other words. ‘Listen, I’ll tell you about my dreadful blind dates when I’m doing your hair – that’ll cheer you up,’ she added, rolling her eyes. ‘Then we’ll see who’s the deluded one. Now, how about Thursday morning? I could fit you in then.’

‘Thursday morning would be perfect,’ Jeanie said thankfully. ‘Blind dates, eh? How exciting! A hairdo rescue and some good stories. I might not be going back to my salon at this rate.’

Alison smiled at her, thinking that she really had got this woman all wrong. Completely wrong. ‘Even better news,’ she found herself saying. ‘There’s a big fat family discount for you.’