a peep. And no birthday card. Not that that came as any surprise.’
‘I’ll bet. He rarely remembered when you were together. I couldn’t say anything at the time, but his ego ballooned to sickening proportions. So much so that he began looking down his nose at everyone – you included.’
Connie grimaced. ‘I know. And I was too stupid to notice. I wish you had said something.’
‘I almost did. Several times. But I didn’t think it was my place.’
Connie shook her head. ‘Well, it doesn’t matter now. It’s all water under the bridge. I have learned something from it, though. And that’s never to let anyone treat me like that again. In fact, I feel like I’ve completely had it with men.’
‘Except dishy toy-boy decorators.’
‘Obviously. But they don’t count.’
Following the call with Anna, Connie made straight for the mirror in the downstairs bathroom and examined her reflection, just as she had a couple of weeks before. The image that stared back this time, however, was completely different. She did have a glow. The result of fantastic sex, masses of fresh air, and not stuffing her face with rubbish when working, like she did in London. In fact, since coming to the Cotswolds, she hadn’t craved any sugary rubbish at all. Which might explain why her clothes felt looser. She’d definitely lost a few pounds. In fact, she concluded, she looked – and felt – like an entirely different person to the exhausted, fed up, dejected one who had arrived less than six weeks before.
Connie’s mobile rang early on Saturday morning.
‘Just say if you don’t want to,’ began Melody, ‘but Malcolm’s away doing some corporate entertainment stuff today, so I’m going into Cirencester for a mooch round the shops and I wondered if you fancied coming along.’
‘I’d love to,’ said Connie. Liam was due round that evening, but other than that, a free day loomed.
‘Fantastic. I’ll pick you up at eleven.’
‘Wow,’ gushed Connie, taking in Cirencester’s bustling marketplace and eclectic mix of buildings a short while later. ‘This place is gorgeous.’
‘I know,’ agreed Melody. ‘I love it. And not just for the shops. I feel anonymous here. Like no one’s judging me. Village life can be very claustrophobic.’
Connie pulled a rueful expression. ‘It’s such a shame you’re not enjoying Little Biddington. Especially when you have everything going for you: fabulous husband, great house, zero financial worries. And you look amazing.’
Melody gave a fleeting smile. ‘Thanks. I know I’m lucky. I suppose I’ve just lost my way a bit and am floundering about trying to find a purpose. I thought the purpose might be a baby, but it’s beginning to look like that’s not meant to be. The cookery club’s helping, though. It’s given me something to think about. And Malcolm’s loving me trying out all these new recipes. He’s also commented on how much happier I am since joining the club. Which I put down to meeting you – the first person I’ve really gelled with since moving here.’
‘Goodness, I’m honoured,’ chuckled Connie.
‘So you should be. I am very particular about who I admit to my inner circle. And I’m under strict orders from my husband to invite you for dinner so he can meet you.’
‘Really? That would be great.’
‘Fantastic. I’ll sort something out. Look, this is my hairdresser’s. Do you mind if we pop in for a minute? I want to ask her something.’
Melody’s hairdresser’s, Connie discovered the moment they stepped inside, was in a completely different class to the one she frequented in London. Tucked between a pet shop and a florist, that one had been owned and run by Beryl for the last thirty-five years, and boasted two types of floral wallpaper separated by an equally floral border. Melody’s formed part of a national chain, occupied a prime spot, and contained more mirrors than a certain room in Versailles. A willowy brunette greeted them at the reception desk, home to a floral arrangement so large Connie wouldn’t have been surprised if it had its own ecosystem.
‘Hi, Melody. Lovely to see you. You don’t have an appointment today, do you?’
‘No. I was just passing. This is my friend, Connie. Connie, this is Annette. My amazing hairdresser.’
‘And I haven’t even paid her to say that,’ tittered Annette.
‘You don’t need to. But I haven’t called in just to pay you compliments. I wanted to ask what you thought about me going brunette.’
Annette’s perfectly made-up eyes grew wide. ‘Brunette? Why?’
‘Because I fancy a change. And because I want people to take me seriously. And for all it’s not guaranteed, I think there’d be more chance of that happening if I lose the blonde.’
Annette pursed her slick red lips. ‘Hmm. I suppose we could start by toning you down, adding in a few lowlights.’
Melody shook her head. ‘No. I want drastic. A complete change. You up for it?’
The hairdresser puffed out a breath. ‘If you are. But I’d hate to see you upset if you don’t like it.’
‘I’ll like it.’
‘Okay then. I’ll do it. And what about you?’ She turned to Connie. ‘Are you feeling adventurous too?’
Connie balked. She awarded herself a medal for hair-bravery on the odd occasion she had an inch chopped off. On the verge of voicing this to Annette, she stopped as a girl about her age walked past – with a sleek, modern, shoulder-length bob. ‘Do you think something like that would suit me?’ she heard herself asking.
‘Absolutely. And we could add some copper highlights to brighten you up.’
Connie snagged her bottom lip between her teeth. She hadn’t psyched herself up for this at all. Even the daring “inch off” usually required three days of mental preparation. Which suggested that being impetuous might be the only way she’d ever make changes to her barnet. Plus, the notion of being “brightened up” did appeal. ‘Okay,’ she replied, cutting short any further analysis.
‘You sure?’ asked Melody.
‘Definitely. I’m long overdue a change.’
Annette flicked through the appointment book. ‘I’ve had a cancellation this afternoon so I could squeeze you both in then, if you like.’
Connie and Melody exchanged a look, before chorusing, ‘We like.’
‘Wow. Love the hair,’ exclaimed Liam that evening. ‘Makes you look…’
‘Don’t you dare say older.’
‘…sexier.’
Connie blew out a breath of relief. Her new hair-do had cost more than all her other hair-dos added together since the age of six. But, at the time, she hadn’t cared. Stepping out of the salon, she’d felt polished and sophisticated – like she belonged in the Cotswolds. Returning home and looking in the mirror every ten minutes for the last three hours, though, doubts had set in about whether it suited her at all. ‘Honestly?’
‘Absolutely,’ affirmed Liam, unbuttoning her shirt. ‘And I’ll let you know just how sexy in approximately thirty seconds.’
Pootling around the village with Eric the next morning, it occurred to Connie that the dog had more energy than her. Which was hardly surprising. All this sex was exhausting. Thankfully, Liam had informed her he wouldn’t be around that evening. He had a pre-arranged meeting with friends to see a band. Connie had been relieved. She needed a night on her own, with a big plate