Finally, Wednesday arrived. With two cat neuters and a batch of paperwork for pet insurance claims, Shelly didn’t have time to think. Someone had left a box of puppies on the doorstep, and an Alsatian with an ear infection was a tricky customer. By one o’clock, both Shelly and Eve were looking forward to the salon. As the clock ticked towards one-thirty, Eve stared at the phone and muttered, ‘Don’t ring, don’t ring!’ On the dot, Shelly locked up and they scooted six doors down to the salon.

Bella, hairdresser extraordinaire with impossible nails and plumped lips, ooh-ed and ahh-ed, pushing her hands firmly through Shelly’s lustrous brunette hair, scrunching, smoothing, stepping back and studying,

‘Don’t be nervous, darling, you won’t feel a thing.’ She pulled Shelly’s locks back into a ponytail and with one executioner’s swipe, chopped it off.

Eve squealed. Bella said, ‘Oops, darling,’ and Shelly stared at the clump of hair that lay next to her chair like a dead cat in the road. She felt the urge to gather it gently into a posh shoe box and give it a decent burial.

Two hours later, Shelly and Eve left the salon. ‘You look, a-maz-ing!’ Eve said. ‘At least ten years younger, and hot!’ She grinned. ‘I don’t know why you’ve never had a posh-bob before? It really suits you.’

‘Thanks. You look wonderful yourself,’ Shelly said. ‘I don’t know that I’ll ever get used to these nails though.’

‘Tell you something, he’s a lucky man, whoever he is.’

Shelly shook her head in alarm. ‘No, it’s not like that at all.’

‘Yeah, right, whatever.’

‘No really. Anyway, I don’t want to be late. Thanks for organising all this, Eve. I’d never have done it alone.’

‘You have a nice night,’ Eve called turning away. ‘I’ll expect a full report tomorrow, OK?’

Shelly laughed. ‘Sure. Bye for now, and thanks again!’

She strode through town, her copper-streaked, chestnut hair bouncing with each step. Catching her reflection in a shop window, she saw a new woman. Feeling empowered, invigorated, she admitted to herself, she wanted DJ to . . . what? Forgive her? Love her? OK, she would settle for like, if it was the best she could get. She turned into the next street and saw the café ahead. She stopped and stared, owning the moment in her mind. Building herself up, convincing herself, she was in control and could walk away at any time; but where would that leave her heart?

The door of the Honeypot Café seemed to grow as she approached. An Alice moment. She was ten minutes early, took a window seat, ordered tea – milk, no sugar. There was nobody about. The day seemed to darken, like a storm was rolling in. Her hair would be ruined by the time she got back to her car. A waste of money. God! She was turning into her father.