Page 68 of A Sky Painted Gold

“What do I think?” I repeat mechanically. I look at the dress some more, my eyes catching on every detail. “It’s a dream,” I breathe.

“I knew you’d love it!” She claps her hands gleefully. “And you thought I was going to let you go to your own party without a new dress!”

“Oh, but, Caitlin, I love my other dress. I’ve only worn it once.” I still can’t take my eyes off the new dress in my hands.

“Pfff.” Caitlin makes a dismissive noise. “It’s your eighteenth birthday, of course you should have something new, something utterly beautiful.” It’s so easy for her, I realize, so inconceivable to think of recycling an outfit. Just another example of the difference between us, but in this instance I can’t bring myself to be sad about it. I hug the dress to my chest, deciding just to be grateful.

“It’s some of Madame Carradice’s best work,” Caitlin continues. “I have to admit that I was really quite jealous. And so unlike Robert to take such an interest! He and Madame schemed together to make it, and she must have worked around the clock – it was his idea, you see, to take the inspiration from your love of the water. He said you’d like it if it reminded you of the sea, and for once I agreed with him.”

“The sea,” I repeat, still dazed and still clutching the dress.

“Yes.” Caitlin nods. “And, of course, once he mentioned it, Madame knew exactly what to do. It is going to suit you perfectly. There’s a mask in the box as well, I think.”

I lay the dress reverently on the bed and I peek into the box. Sure enough, there is a mask inside made of gold silk overlaid with gold lace. I’m overwhelmed by how perfect it is. The silk runs through my fingers like water. It really does capture that feeling of magic that hangs over the sea for me. It’s truly a dress for a sea sprite. The fact that it was Robert’s idea, that he could know so well what I would like, is stunning. There is an ache in my chest as I come close, dangerously close, to something I have been trying desperately to avoid.

Suddenly, the bedroom door swings open with a bang, to reveal Laurie standing there in her dressing gown, a bottle of champagne in one hand and four glasses in the other. Elodie rushes in behind her, and she kisses me warmly, wishing me a happy birthday. Just like that the moment is gone and I allow myself to be pulled into the bright, chattering world my friends bring with them.

“OK, birthday girl,” Laurie drawls in that warm honey voice. “We’re here to do your hair. Let’s get started.”

Elodie takes my hand and guides me over to the dressing table, pushing me down on to the seat. “You are going to look magnificent tonight, Lou,” she says, and her voice is hypnotic. “You will be the most beautiful girl in the room.”

“Not if you’re there,” I say honestly.

“Bah!” Elodie exclaims, scrunching up her nose. “This night is for you, Louise. Everything is here for you, for the taking. Let that sink in and you will be … radiant.” I feel her words working on me like a spell, spreading through me as if they’re making their way into my blood, firing up my whole body.

“Do you trust me?” Laurie asks, brandishing a pair of scissors as she stands behind me in the mirror.

“I take it that’s a rhetorical question?” I ask, but I eye the scissors nervously. “What did you have in mind?”

“Something … bold,” Elodie says, and her eyes meet mine in the mirror, daring me to say yes.

“Yes,” I say.

Caitlin is pacing the room like an expectant father. “Are you sure, Laurie?” she asks.

“I’m sure,” Laurie replies. She grins, lifts one of my long curls and, snip, chops it above my shoulder. “No going back now,” she says.

Thirty minutes later and the rest of my hair has followed suit, falling silently to the floor.

“It looks wonderful,” Caitlin breathes. The reflection in the mirror shows the three of them standing behind me, their approval written on their faces.

“Very chic.” Elodie nods.

“Much more modern,” Laurie puts in.

I am silent, tilting my head from side to side, trying to get used to the feeling of lightness, to the ends of my hair tickling my neck. Laurie has cut it so that it falls about an inch above my shoulders at the front, slightly shorter at the back. Somehow she has managed to tame my curls so that they are smooth and glossy. My neck looks longer, my eyes bigger, my cheekbones higher. I still look like me – it is a haircut, after all, not a magic trick – but a better version of me. In the mirror I see a slow smile spread across my face.

“I think she likes it!” Caitlin says, wrapping her arm around my shoulders.

“Women spend a lot of time and money trying to get their hair to wave like that.” Laurie nods. “You’re lucky.”

She picks up her glass of champagne and holds it up. Caitlin, Elodie and I lift our own and clink them together in a toast.

“OK,” Caitlin says breathlessly, her voice taut with excitement. “Stage One is complete. Now, you need to get dressed and I’ll do your face.”

“I’m going to go and get ready myself,” Laurie says, yawning and stretching languorously. “I think my work here is done.”

“Thanks,” I say, reaching out to squeeze her hand. She bends down and plants a warm kiss on my cheek.