by Helly Acton
‘I’ve made everyone scrambled eggs on toast. Shall I put yours in the warmer for you?’ She takes hold of Amy’s hand and squeezes it. It’s like they didn’t have that moment last night.
‘Thanks, I’ll come through in a minute.’ Amy pulls herself up and turns around to make her bed.
‘Can I show you a trick?’ Flick asks.
‘Sure.’
Flick trots over to her bed on the opposite side of the room and pulls out a spray bottle from a box underneath.
‘Have you heard of Amanda Jackson, from The Wife House? This is one of her best tips.’ She smiles. ‘Lavender-infused water. The water helps remove creases and the lavender gives your sheets a lovely calming scent to help you sleep.’
‘Why did you bring it with you?’ Amy asks.
‘I like to use my own cleaning products. Now watch.’
She sprays the sheets and pulls them across tightly, tucking them under the mattress and running her hand across the top to iron out the creases. Then she stops to admire her work, with a look of pure joy on her face.
‘Thanks.’ Amy half smiles. ‘Fancy doing that every morning.’
‘See, Amy? Being friends with a 1950s housewife isn’t so bad after all, is it?’
After her shower, Amy finds everyone on the sofa staring at The Wall like they’ve been there all night. Hattie’s standing with her face two inches from the screen, Jackie and Gemma are playing thumb wars on the sofa, and Kathy is trying desperately to dodge their flying fists and save her coffee. It looks like a scene from a weird dream, and Amy has to rub her eyes to remind herself that it isn’t. This is the reality of her life right now. Eating breakfast with a bunch of randoms under a device that constantly reminds her of how likeable or not she is. She squints. She’s still floating around the middle of The Tracker.
In the dining room, Flick is putting Amy’s eggs down on the table. Then she takes a seat opposite. When Amy realises that Flick’s going to watch her eat the entire meal, she wolfs it down. It’s delicious, but what else would you expect from a woman who lives in a kitchen?
‘Amazing, thank you.’
‘Sweet corn and parsley. Simon’s favourite.’ She smiles.
‘Lucky Simon.’
It’s slowly dawning on Amy that Flick’s mission in life is to look after people. She was a doctor, and now she’s a mother without children. It’s sweet, but suffocating.
Doooong.
‘Oooooh!’ cries Gemma, leaping out of a squat and running towards the front door. The housemates stand and move towards the corridor in anticipation of another new arrival.
Gemma opens the door to a chorus of excited greetings.
‘HIYA!!’
‘Hi, babes!’
‘Oh my God!’
‘Woo-hoo!’
A feverish troop rushes into the house, wearing make-up belts and dragging beauty cases behind them. Amy knows exactly who they are and starts grinning for the first time in ages.
‘Oh my God, this is mental!’ Gemma screams, jumping up and down like an excited puppy. She runs back to the guests and starts hugging them one by one. ‘I can’t believe it, you’re my absolute favourite!’
‘Oh, hi, ladies!’ says Katie Carroway, lead star and headmistress of Beauty School Squad, the TV show where cosmetology students compete to give makeovers to busy mums who’ve ‘lost their lustre’. She parts the frenzy to reveal herself to the cameras in an army-green military jacket, leather leggings and red ankle boots. Her signature silver bob shines under a matching red beret.
‘Now, let’s see what we have to work with here,’ Katie announces as she walks around the housemates, running her eyes all over them. She stops in front of Hattie and reaches up to her temples, brushing her fingers through her hair, shaking her head in disapproval.
‘Oh, no, this won’t do at all. None of this will do, ladies. You all need a lot of work. But you can stop fretting, because that’s why we’re here. As the official glam army on The Shelf!’
Her students start cheering as she walks up the stairs and addresses the room.
‘Ladies, ladies, ladies!’ She looks around and wags her finger in all directions. ‘Or should I say lazy, lazy, lazy! That’s what you are. I’m sick of women giving up after the big three-oh. Beauty is a long-term investment in yourself. In your confidence. In your love life, if you want one. But it’s also a commitment. When I look at you, I weep.’
Amy wants to burst out laughing when she sees Gemma looking comically insulted, with her mouth hanging open.
‘Do you know what I see?’ Katie continues. ‘I see women who’ve quit the race. I have to be cruel to be kind. I know that you’re all stunning beneath that orange skin’ – she looks at Gemma – ‘that insane hair’ – she looks at Hattie – ‘and those forehead ferrets’ – she turns to Amy, who frowns and strokes her eyebrows. ‘I mean, big eyebrows are in, darling, but they still need some shape.’
Amy feels crushed as she lifts her fingers to her brows to search for any loose strands. She imagines Jamie laughing at her on the other side of the screen and suddenly feels hot.
Jackie folds her arms across her chest and coughs loudly. ‘I think I speak for everyone when I say we’re quite happy with how we look, thanks very much.’
‘Um,’ says Gemma, ‘speak for yourself, Jacks, I want a makeover!’
‘Me too,’ mutters Hattie. ‘My hair is insane.’
‘I’m with you, Jacks. I don’t need a makeover,’ Lauren states matter-of-factly. ‘This is a face for radio, anyway.’
‘Jackie and Lauren,’ says Katie, ‘I make lots of women feel more fearless and more powerful every day. Make-up isn’t supposed to hide your natural beauty, it’s supposed to highlight it. I like to think I have the power to give any woman the spunk of a supermodel but in their own skin, and a boost of self-esteem to win those daily battles. Lauren, so your face isn’t on TV. But I bet your voice sounds better when you’re feeling sure of yourself. And Jackie, you were wearing red lipstick when you first arrived. Doesn’t it make you feel fierce?’
Jackie shrugs her shoulders. ‘A bit.’
‘Of course it does!’ Katie shouts. ‘Ladies, there’s no shame in wanting to be the best version of ourselves with a sweep of lipstick or the flick of a straightening iron. Now come on, soldiers, we’ve got a lot to teach you for tomorrow night.’
The group look at each other.
‘What’s happening tomorrow night?’ says Amy on behalf of them all.
Katie waves her army into the dining room to start setting up their stations. ‘Whoops, I’ve said too much! My lips are sealed.’
Katie has assigned one student per housemate, and the women are lined up in a row on dining room chairs. In front of them are mirrors on wheels that are covered in sheets. Amy hates salon mirrors, which is the main reason she only goes to the hairdresser twice a year. They make her look like a drowned rat, and when there’s nowhere else to look it’s two hours of torture. Perhaps she could suggest a sheet covering at her next appointment.
‘OK, ladies, we’re going to start by pointing out your problem areas. Brace yourselves for brutal honesty. My students will say exactly what they think of your current look, and I’ll judge them for their analysis. After that, we’ll start the reset process and beautify you with all the tools we have at our disposal. Shall we begin?’
First in the firing line is Jackie. Her student is a timid-looking little redhead with a shaky voice.
‘OK, Matthew. Tell me what Jackie needs,’ barks Katie.
‘Um, her braids have become tangled and they’re starting to split, which is making them look matte instead of shiny. She needs an oil-based gloss to bring back some shine, but I need to make sure none of it lands on her skin, which is oily. She has bumps all over her T-zone, so her skin looks uneven. I’m going to apply a tea-tree-based toner and use a water-based foundation during make-up.’
‘Excellent assessment!’ Katie cries, patting a relieved-looking Matthew on the
back.
Katie marches on to Hattie.
‘Good God, Jarryd, what have we got here?’
Jarryd whispers something into Katie’s ear. She bends down afterwards.
‘Have you been cutting your own hair, Hattie?’ asks Katie, softly.
‘Yes.’ She stares at her lap. ‘I watched a YouTube video.’
Katie and Jarryd look at each other.
‘OK, Hattie, we’re going to show you what an amazing difference a professional cut makes to your confidence.’ Katie smiles. ‘Now, Jarryd, what else are you thinking?’
‘I’m going to give Hattie a short crop cut, Michelle Williams-style, and apply a frosted chocolate gloss to help lift her natural olive complexion. Her skin is a little grey at the moment. I’m going to fix it with an iridescent gold sheet mask, and find her a yellow-based foundation serum to transform her skin from dull and glum to a dewy glow.’
‘That sounds dreamy. Is that OK, Hattie?’ Katie squeezes her shoulder.
Hattie nods and gives a shy smile.
Katie continues along the line, practically bypassing Flick.
‘Darling, it looks like you had this done a few days ago. I’m not even sure I could get your hair as bouncy!’ she cries, tossing the hair around in her fingers.
‘I had it done professionally before I came on.’ Flick smiles as she strokes it. ‘And I blow-dry it every day at home.’
‘You can tell. Not a strand out of place!’ Katie admires her from the back. ‘Oh, to have the time for a morning blow-dry. I envy you! Now, what about your face?’
‘I don’t like wearing too much make-up, so just as natural as possible, please. No lipstick either. Or too much blush. Men don’t like kissing clowns.’ Flick laughs.
‘Oh.’ Katie stands up. ‘Maybe they’d like to kiss my arse instead?’
Flick’s wide eyes follow her down the line to Amy.
Amy’s been dreading what they’re going to say about her chubby cheeks and bushy eyebrows.
‘I can’t see any major problem areas, Katie,’ says her student, Rachel, looking at Katie and twisting her fingers around Amy’s scalp. ‘But her look is just a little … bland.’
‘Yes, I can see she doesn’t have a strong visual identity, but there’s plenty to work with. So, what’s your plan?’
‘I’m thinking a hair reshape with lots of layers to frame her face and streamline her apple cheeks.’
Translation: hamster cheeks.
‘And natural make-up hues with browns, not pinks and oranges, to give her that effortlessly chic Parisian look. Think Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s.’
‘Wonderful, Rachel, nice work. Can’t wait to see the end result.’
When Katie moves on to Lauren, she’s cut off before she can start.
‘Love, you can’t touch anything. Especially the lid.’ Lauren smiles, but with a stare that says she’s not to be messed with. ‘This look is pure me, and I don’t need a rebrand. No matter what that lot say.’ She nods to the cameras and scrapes her hair back.
‘Not even the—’
‘Nope.’
‘Eyeli—’
‘Nooo.’
‘Can I just show—’
‘Woah woah woah. Put that wand down and step away from my eyeball, mate.’
‘Very well, then. That gives us more time for … Kathy!’ chirps Katie, turning to the end of the line, folding her arms and shaking her head. ‘Heaven knows we need it, team.’
Kathy frowns.
During her session, Rachel guides Amy through everything she’s doing. How to contour her face, shape her eyebrows without thinning them and use dabs of highlighter in the middle of her lip bow for definition. Despite the insults she delivered earlier, she’s being quite sweet to her, and Amy does appreciate all the tips. She loves make-up, but her method is usually slapping it on and hoping it sticks.
Soon it’s time for the big reveal, and the housemates are instructed to close their eyes while the sheets on the mirrors are pulled down.
There’s a collective inhale, followed by a still calm, as each woman leans forwards to the mirror to inspect the new her.
Gemma starts gasping. ‘I feel like a princess!’ she says, with a waterfall of dark curls falling around her face. ‘Fuck, I wish I had my phone.’ She throws her arm into the air and starts pressing her palm with her thumb, pretending to take selfies for ten seconds.
‘Don’t sell yourself short! You’re a queen!’ shouts Katie, as she hugs her from behind.
Amy isn’t really listening. She’s completely engrossed in her own reflection. Her chins are now just a chin.
‘Rachel, I love it, you’re a miracle worker!’ She beams, swishing her hair around.
‘It’s not the first time I’ve been told that!’ Rachel responds with a grin as she runs her fingers through the back of Amy’s new style. Then she crouches down to Amy’s ear and whispers, ‘You’re my favourite. Lots of people on the outside think so, too, I promise!’
Amy leans back into her chair with a sigh of relief. She looks over at Flick, who hasn’t said much since the reveal. Nor does she look that different. Her student Ollie gave her a facial and followed her instructions for how she wanted her make-up applied.
‘Holy shitballs, Hattie, you look fucking amazing!’ shouts Gemma.
The housemates all turn to look. Gemma’s right. Hattie looks like a completely different person. Her eyes are bright and open, her skin looks polished and healthy, and her hair has been chopped into a sleek, slick cut.
She smiles but looks embarrassed as she strokes the back of her head.
‘What do you think, everyone?’ asks Kathy.
Kathy looks like she’s just stepped off the cover of Vanity Fair. She has dramatic smoky eyes, dark brows and a nude lip. Her blonde hair is slicked back and blonder, transformed into a chic Emma Willis-style crop. She stands up, walks behind the chairs and does a twirl, while the housemates all cheer.
‘Oh please, who am I kidding.’ She laughs. ‘I don’t think a smoky eye is going to change the fact that I turned invisible when I hit fifty.’
‘Rubbish!’ cries Katie. ‘Is Cindy Crawford invisible? Is Julianne Moore invisible? Age isn’t a barrier. It’s a limitation you put on your own mind.’
Kathy looks at herself in the mirror and smiles.
‘Check you out, Jacks,’ says Lauren.
Jackie looks like a goddess. Her braids are glossy, her skin is luminous and she’s wearing the same red lipstick she wore when she entered the house.
‘Yeah, I feel good. As long as we aren’t competing for best in show.’
‘But Jacks, I don’t wear make-up to be competitive. I wear it to be confident. To be me,’ replies Gemma, pouting in the mirror. ‘I love this look. Mwah.’
The debate is cut short.
‘Housemates. Please go to the living room.’
There’s a text message on the TV, under the heading Mystery Date No. 1.
Gemma, fancy a pint at The Secret Garden tomorrow night? See you at 6. Don’t be late. Dylan
Excited chatter fills the room when suddenly Lauren breaks the buzz.
‘Hold on. Hattie’s ex is called Dylan, isn’t he?’
They all turn round to look at Hattie. She’s staring at the screen, biting her nails.
Sixteen
‘I’ve slept on it and I’m not doing it! No way. Sorry, not sorry,’ Gemma shouts up at the camera the next morning. ‘I’m not giving that complete twat any of my precious time.’ Gemma falls onto the sofa next to Hattie. ‘Mates before dates, babes,’ she says with a fist bump.
‘He isn’t a complete twat,’ mutters Hattie.
Gemma looks at her, surprised. ‘Hat. He called you fat and cut up your clothes.’
‘Well, maybe he’s sorry now.’
‘Gemma, please go to the Chat Room.’
‘So, first they tell us to forget the ex and then they torture us by parading them under our noses,’ rants Jackie from the sofa. ‘Any
thing for good TV, right? Mystery dates, my arse.’
‘I feel sorry for the housemate who ends up on a date with Jeremy. He chews with his mouth open and spits when he talks.’ Kathy laughs, playing with her fringe in the reflection of the glass door. She’s lost in thought for a few seconds and turns around, smiling. ‘In fact, whoever dates him can pass on a message. Tell him I said thank you. Being here has brought me back from the dead. I’m no longer Kathy, your ex-wife. I’m Kathy – me. And I’m so happy that I’m seeing myself again for the first time in twenty-five years. And take out that ear piercing. It makes you look like such a prick.’
The housemates laugh.
‘It really does,’ says Amy.
Kathy nods her head and shudders.
‘My message to Jamie would be: what the fuck was I doing with you for so long? A week ago I was so angry you’d wasted two years of my life, but now I can go wherever I like, travel whenever I want and watch all the trash on TV I fancy. And I can go to bed without having to watch you watch yourself do yoga in the mirror.’
‘Hmmm …’ Jackie pauses. ‘I would say: I’m sorry you felt you came second to Dad. But I’m even sorrier I thought you’d stand with me, not against me, when shit hit the fan. But being here has opened my eyes, and now I see that I can support myself. I don’t need you. I never did.’
‘My message is: I never came,’ Lauren whispers.
They burst out laughing as Flick enters the living room.
‘What have I missed?’
‘Gemma’s going on a date with Hattie’s ex tonight,’ explains Jackie, pointing at the TV screen. ‘So Gemma’s going to use the opportunity to pass on a message to him in person.’
Flick stares at the screen.
‘Do you think all the exes will come on the show? I just can’t imagine Simon would want to. Or have the time. I’d love him to be here, of course. But I suppose he isn’t my ex.’
