PART FIVE
LUCY/1960s YVES SAINT LAURENT

I’d wanted to fall in love with him, I really had. He was cute, and kind, and gentle, and he made me laugh with his terrible jokes. All of my friends said we looked so good together; they couldn’t believe it when I told them we’d split up. It’s really difficult to put into words, and even now looking back I wonder if I could have been wrong. Maybe I should have worked less hard and spent more time with him. But it just felt like somehow he was in love with the image of me, rather than everything that made up who I am. It was my own fault, for sure. I’d worked hard on that image. Bloody hard. The ‘sophisticated businesswoman’. Everything that went with that - the heels, the lingerie, the designer dresses, the immaculate make up, the perfect hair. I loved that, I did, but deep down there was still a tiny part of me that was Mark. I’d lived him for eighteen years, and he hadn’t been a bad person. I didn’t want to kill him off completely, to deny that he’d ever existed. That would have been a denial of where I’d come from, of my family, of my mum. Traces of him still surfaced from time to time, and I could live with that. When I was playing rough and tumble with Ellie’s kids; sometimes when I got to watch Liverpool play football; when I was at home alone and I’d play my old music collection. Sadie had understood that, and Ellie. But Gary never did. I remember a few weeks after we’d met and we were visiting Ellie and Tommy, and I was playing with Robbie, my nephew, who must have been about 4 at the time. I was wearing an old t-shirt and cotton gym pants and no make-up, and my hair was a mess. We’d been wrestling on the floor, and I’d been pretending to be a monster, and Robbie had been giggling helplessly. And Gary had said something about me not acting ‘ladylike’, and it kind of cut me to the core.

After Gary I pretty much gave up on relationships, and all my energy went into my business. In contrast to my private life, my salons were going incredibly well. I’d opened two more in London and half a dozen in other cities around the country. The London clients paid more, but were also more demanding of my personal time, so I’d bought a small but stupidly expensive apartment in the Barbican and was spending about half my week down there. On the rare occasions I wasn’t working, I devoted my time to charity. I exploited the wealth and celebrity of my clients shamelessly each year at a dinner I set up in aid of the Clatterbridge Cancer Centre in Liverpool, where my mum had been treated, and over the years I was proud to have raised well into six figures for them. Now, as the tenth anniversary of opening my first salon came around, I’d decided to change things around a little. The previous year I’d opened Lucy 59 in Chester. Lucy 60 would, as the name suggested, declare a shift in style into a new decade. The decade of The Beatles, mini skirts, and flower power. I refurbished my first salon, the one in Woolton, to the new look. To celebrate that, and and also my ten years in business, I set up a charity dinner in Woolton with a sixties fancy dress theme. All my best clients from all over the country were going to travel and it was going to be the event of the year.

Of course, I had just the perfect dress for the occasion. Back when we’d spent our weekends touring the charity shops of Liverpool Sadie had passed on a love of vintage fashion, and now I had some money to spare I’d built up quite a collection. My favourite eras were the 1930s - I was a sucker for anything full length in bias-cut satin - and, of course, the 1950s, but since I’d decided on the new style for Lucy 60, I’d been on the hunt for something from the sixties. A few weeks earlier I’d bought online a dress by Yves Saint Laurent that fitted the bill perfectly. It was black chiffon, thigh length with long sleeves and a simple round neck. Black sequins ran around the hem and the wrists. A ziz-zag pattern of sequins similarly ran, for modesty’s sake because the chiffon of the dress was almost transparent, around the hipline and bust. To be honest, I was a little out of my comfort zone wearing it - I couldn’t wear anything but the tiniest g-string to go with it - but Ellie had dared me, so I couldn’t refuse. I’d arranged my hair into a simple up-do and gone with a period look to my make up, with pale lips and no blush but lots of eyeliner and metallic silver eyeshadow.

There had been 300 people invited, and I think I knew almost all of the women, and at least a good half of their husbands and partners. During the pre-dinner drinks, and then between courses, I’d been doing my best as hostess to get around and speak to everyone. As the coffees arrived at the tables the main part of the fundraising, a charity auction, began. I stood on the stage, and tapped on the microphone to check it was working.
“Good Evening, Ladies and Gentlemen, and once again, thank you all for coming. We’re going to get straight into the main part of the evening now; the Charity Auction.” There were loud ‘woohs’ and whistling from parts of the audience and I smiled. “We’ve got some amazing things to bid for tonight - signed football shirts from both Liverpool and Everton,” (another ‘wooh’) “tickets to Ladies Day at Aintree, a day’s coaching from the golf professional at Ainsdale. But best of all…” I paused for dramatic effect “a free hairstyling appointment with yours truly!” I grinned, and there was more loud cheering and clapping. “To help us out with the auction I’d like you all to put your hands together please for the most important person here tonight; the person who, without her, none of this would have happened. The person who went to Clatterbridge hospital twelve years ago and was told she had six months to live. But the person who, thanks to their skill, and expertise, and care, and love, is still with us today, fighting fit, and going strong. Ladies and Gentlemen, my mum!” There were huge cheers as she walked on to the stage. I wiped away a tear that had started to form. She was frailer now after her treatment, and she’d never regained the weight that she’d lost, but her spirit was indomitable, and she looked radiant.

We worked our way through the various prizes. Bidding was intense, and almost all of the prizes were sold for way more than I had expected. At length, there was only one prize left, the hairstyling appointment with myself. As the price climbed, interest soon narrowed down to two bidders; one of my London clients sat at a table at the front of the room and another woman right at the back who I couldn’t see clearly other than her dark hair and the silver dress she was wearing. There was something about her accent though as she called out her bids. Scottish, mixed with a touch of Californian drawl. When she won she whooped loudly and skipped up to the stage. Her 1960s costume was the same one she’d worn all those years ago, with the hand sewn rocket badges on the sleeves, and the spray painted knee length boots. She bounded up to me, stopping an arms length away, and beamed.
“Surprise! Long time no see, eh?” She grinned.
“Sadie! How did you…When did…” I was completely lost for words. She’d cut her hair to a shoulder length bob, her face was more tanned, and laughter lines now framed her sparkling brown eyes. But otherwise she looked exactly the same as when I’d last seen her.
My mum tried to get my attention by gripping my elbow. “Lucy, love. We need to keep going with the other announcements.”
I replied without taking my eyes away from Sadie.”Yes mum.”
Sadie reached out her hand, and I took it. My mum prompted me again. “Yes. Yes. OK! I’m coming!” My gaze didn’t shift.
Sadie smiled again. “It’s ok. I’ll catch you later.” And she eased her hand out of my grip.
Another guest greeted me from the other side “Lucy! Great night!” And I smiled absently, and when I turned back to see Sadie she was gone.

The rest of the evening passed in a daze. I did my best to act the hostess, but I was beyond distracted, always looking past the person I was speaking to, searching the room for another glimpse. I almost began to think I’d imagined the whole thing. Eventually, after what felt like hours, a guest tapped me on the shoulder and gestured to the stage. “Listen!”

The DJ was making an announcement about the end of the evening, and playing one last song. I was expecting Gerry and the Pacemakers’ ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’, which must have ended every Liverpool sixties themed night since, well, the sixties. But instead the opening chords of Thin Lizzy’s ‘The Boys are Back in Town’ tore out of the PA, dragging me back to that moment twelve years ago in my bedroom. “Be yourself.” Sadie had said then. “Don’t give a shit about what anyone else wants you to be.” She was stood alone in the middle of the dancefloor, gesturing me towards her, grinning insanely. I looked around. The other guests were smiling, arms gently steering me in her direction. It was like reality had been suspended and I’d entered some kind of parallel universe. Sadie grinned again, and waved her arm, more urgently this time. I looked around, seeing if there was anyone there at all who would pull me back into that normal universe, where I was cool and sophisticated and didn’t do things like playing air guitar in front of 300 of my clients. But no-one did. Fuck it. I kicked off my heels and pulled the clips from my hair, and pounded my imaginary guitar as hard as I could. By the end of the first verse Ellie and Tommy had joined in as well, and my mum, and half the Liverpool football team. By the time we reached the chorus there wasn’t a single person in the place who wasn’t rocking.

I walked home hand in hand with Sadie. My little finger slipped into the gap between her index and middle fingers the way it always had when we were together, like a ship docking in its home port after years away at sea. We went slowly and meanderingly, our feet bare, my shoes in my other hand dangling from their straps. We had a lot to cover. I told her everything that had happened to me since she’d left, and she told me about her life in LA. And she halted momentarily, and turned to face me. “I’ve got a new job.” She said. “In London.” And my heart pounded.

We stopped, just like we’d done all those years ago, at the end of the path leading to my mum’s front door. Sadie still had hold of my hand and she pulled me gently toward her, reaching up behind me with her other arm, and kissed me. It was like - I don’t know, I can’t describe it. The touch of her lips, her smell, everything was like doubly more intense than it had been when we’d been together. I wanted that moment to last forever but at the same time somehow all the pain of the time we’d been apart was also amplified, and after the immediate ecstasy it flooded through me. I pushed her away, agonisingly.
Every emotion ran across her face - the dying joy of the kiss; loss, separation, guilt. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”
“No, no, it’s ok.” I said hurriedly, barely braving to look at her. “I mean, it’s just, I can’t…” my words faded away. “It’s too much, Sadie, after so long. I might want to, but I can’t just switch myself back on to you like that, after keeping all the feelings I have for you locked away for so long.”
“I’m sorry.” She apologised again. She reached out a hand toward me, but then stopped just short of it touching. “You said ‘have’”.
“What?”
“‘All the feelings I have for you’. ‘Have’, not ‘had’”.
“Oh, Sadie.” I reached out to her this time. Her hand was still stretched out in front of her where she’d stopped short a moment ago, and I took it. “It hurt me so much when you left, Sadie. I just can’t go through that again.”
“I love you, Lucy. Always have.” Tears were running down her cheeks now. “I don’t want to leave it here, like this, like now. Can I see you when you’re in London? We can talk again, and maybe, slowly…”
“Yes.” I interrupted her, wiping a tear away from my own cheek. “Yes. Please. I’d like that.”
“OK.” She smiled again, and sniffed, and wiped the end of her nose with her sleeve, and giggled gently, and she was eighteen again.
“I’ll give you a call.”
I watched until she disappeared from sight at the end of our road and then I turned and headed up the path to my mum’s door. For a moment I was In Ellie’s flapper dress again, heels in one hand, fumbling for my keys, a warm glow of excitement and anticipation flooding through my veins.

Mum and Ellie were stood either side of the kitchen table, drinking tea.
I wiped my face dry with my palm and smiled at them. My mum smiled back and then noticed that I’d been crying. “You ok there, Luce, is everything alright?”
I sniffed and smiled again. I placed my bag on the table, picked up the mug of tea that Ellie handed across, and took a sip. “Yeah. I think everything’s going to be absolutely fine.”

THE END