Actually, Amber’s right. Tom will go on and on about how many rounds of golf he could play for the cost of getting highlights, or how many pints he can get for the price of a false tan. I don’t want Amber to have to listen to that bullshit. Not at the moment. It’s important she gets to enjoy this party, take her mind off what’s going on at home.

I become aware of the closed door beside me housing Kenny and whisper the instructions.

‘There’s money in the bottom drawer of my jewellery box, Amber.’

‘Thanks, Ma.’ Running back up the stairs Amber shouts for her father to cook her two sausages and I head out the door.

The salon is already buzzing when I arrive. Hoping to finish earlier than usual to facilitate the staff getting to the hair show on time, Megan has timed the appointments so we can be all out the door by five at the latest. It’s so busy I have no time to feed my worries. But they linger at the back of my head, a dark cloud waiting to drop its rain on me.

‘Do you think Anna has a chance?’ Marie says, both of us pushing the dregs of two chicken wraps down our throat that were bought in a hurry from the Spar shop on the corner.

‘Yes, I think her presentation is fabulous, have you seen it?’

‘No, but I heard it was good.’

Megan is referring to Anna’s entry into the ‘Fabulous Hairstyle’ section of the show. She’s one of three categories the salon qualified for. The ‘Fabulous Hairstyle’ category, the ‘Long Hair’ category and the ‘Best Salon’ category. It’s the first time we’ve qualified for three so we’re hoping to come away with at least one trophy tonight.

The black water flows between my fingers, colour disguising the passing of time on Mrs Rooney’s head. Rinsing until the water becomes clear, I wrap her hair in a towel and bring her back to her seat.

Megan catches my eye while I walk back, throwing her eyes to heaven at all the bodies gathered at the reception desk waiting to check in or check out.

In the mirror, I see Anna work away on the opposite side of the salon. It’s impossible to keep my eyes from scanning her body. Looking for bruises, cuts, swelling. Very little of her skin is showing, her clothes cover her like a wannabe nun.

Anna sees me looking, fuck. ‘Nice skirt,’ I mouth before turning away. God, I’m paranoid. It’s not like I could do anything to help her. Except let her know I’m here if she needs me. But that’s not even true. I’m barely here for myself at the moment.