‘Cassie used to be my friend a long time ago, until she shafted me when we were at college.’ I never told Jennifer how Cassie ruined our friendship to further her career – mainly because it would have involved me potentially turning down my apprenticeship at the salon.

‘So you knew what she was like?’ Jennifer’s eyes narrow.

‘Yes, which is why, when I saw her in the appointment book, I asked if someone else could take her as a client. Although I had no idea she’d pull something as vile as this.’

Jennifer purses her lips, thinking for a moment. ‘Do you think this was all just some scheme to get back at you?’

‘I honestly don’t know. But I’ve never done a single bad thing to her, if that’s what you’re thinking. If anything, I should be the one to be upset with her, not the other way around.’

Jennifer throws her hands up in the air and gets to her feet. ‘You know what, I’m not interested in your childhood vendetta. All I know is that I’ve spent years building up a business, and now it’s being trashed by your ridiculous squabble.’

I take a breath, shocked by Jennifer’s outburst. And yet, I can’t blame her. I’d be upset if it was my business being bad-mouthed with no cause. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Well it’s a bit late for that.’

‘At least the piece doesn’t mention Waves by name. There are over half a dozen salons in the area. No one will even know which one it is.’

‘Oh come on, you don’t believe that any more than I do. Half the town saw Cassie bloody Barrington in here.’

Only because you insisted I put her by the window, I think to myself. My shoulders slump and in my head I curse Cassie. Why does she always have it in for me?

‘Anyway, I’d better get back out there.’ Jennifer walks towards the salon, her back rigid.

‘I’m so sorry, Jen.’

She shrugs without turning around and I feel like absolute crap. I try to work out whether this was my fault or not. Should I have warned Jennifer not to let Cassie into the salon? No. No one could have predicted that she’d do something like this. The woman is a menace.

I follow Jennifer back out into the salon, head to the reception desk and type Cassie’s name into the client database. Her details come up on screen and I compare her phone number to the old one of hers I have in my phone. It’s the same number so I return to the staffroom and bang out a text:

Cassie, that’s not what happened, and you know it.

Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t respond.