The War Orphan by Anna Stuart

Author:Anna Stuart [Stuart, Anna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Historical, 20th Century, Jewish, WW2
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2024-03-06T22:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-ONE

LINGFIELD | FEBRUARY 1946

ALICE

Alice paused halfway up Lingfield High Street, her eye inextricably drawn to the bright pink hearts stuck to a big shop window. They were, she assumed, for St Valentine’s Day, but they made her want to cry. Ernst had had a great big, warm heart, she thought, and it had been crushed by that wretched car slamming into him across the ice.

‘Enough, Alice,’ she told herself crossly.

The children were slowly getting over losing their friend and it was doing no one any good her dwelling on it, but something about his death seemed to have brought everything else into sharp focus: the many moves she’d made in the last few years; the lack of news about Max; the loss of Tasha, who still hadn’t come to see them. She just felt so weary and so endlessly, mournfully sad.

‘Are you all right there, my lovely?’

Alice jumped. A buxom woman in a startling pink tabard was standing in the doorway, looking at her in concern.

‘I’m fine,’ she stuttered. ‘Just, er… looking at your hearts.’

‘Pretty, aren’t they? Everyone needs a little love, I always say. Did you want an appointment?’

‘An appointment?’

‘Cos you’re in luck – I’ve just had a cancellation so I can fit you in before closing. Come along in.’

‘I don’t think⁠—’

But the woman was taking her shopping bags and ushering her inside and she seemed to have lost the will to do anything but follow. She found herself in a warm room, gaudily decorated in cream, gold and pink, with several gilt-framed mirrors on the wall.

‘A hairdresser’s!’ she said out loud.

‘That’s right, my lovely. Welcome to Beautiful You. I’m Joyce.’

Alice blinked, dazzled. ‘It’s very… bright.’

‘Thank you,’ Joyce beamed. ‘I modelled it on Elizabeth Arden’s salons.’

‘Elizabeth…?’

‘Arden, my lovely. She’s an American, famous for the best beauty salons in the world. Of course, hers are in fancy places like New York and Paris, but I didn’t see why our little bit of Surrey couldn’t have some luxury too. So, here we are! And for half the price. What’s your name? Alice? Beautiful. You just sit back and relax, Alice.’

Alice was certain that wouldn’t be possible and as Joyce eased her into a padded chair she stared glumly into a far too well-lit mirror. Her hair, freed from its usual bun, dangled limply around her face, both of them equally grey.

‘Has it been a while since your last proper cut, my lovely?’ Joyce asked gently.

Alice considered. Sophie took the scissors to her hair every so often to keep the ends neat, but that wasn’t what this smiley woman was asking.

‘I think the last time was in 1932.’

‘1932! That’s – heavens! – nearly fifteen years ago.’ Joyce picked up a glossy magazine and fanned herself. ‘You poor, poor love. How come?’

‘Do you really want to know?’

‘Of course,’ Joyce said. ‘How can I make you into your most beautiful you if I don’t know who that you is?’

Alice blinked at her in the mirror. It was an interesting idea. No one asked her about herself these days and this bright, cosy salon felt like such a safe place.

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