She waved and smiled to her fellow cosmetologists, makeup artists and sales staff, exchanging verbal greetings with the nearest as they prepared themselves and their displays for the day. Erica’s smile and enthusiasm were genuine. This had become, if not her happy place, her safe place when she couldn’t be at home. And she was so grateful for having a job that might not pay a lot, but was enjoyable most of the time and even joyful on occasion. She loved the bustling company around her and while those manning other counters were only superficial acquaintances, the vibe was mainly friendly. Only one or two were middle-aged like her – most of them didn’t see the department store as a long-term career, more like a stepping stone to somewhere else. And of course, a lot were lured away from Adelaide by the bright lights and alluring prospects in the larger cities. Sometimes it got a little bit competitive with staff jostling for attention and sales, even getting downright snarky at times, but Erica tended to watch it unfold with amusement. Thankfully her employers weren’t as pushy about sales as she’d heard some of the others were. She wasn’t competitive by nature – perhaps that was the reason she hadn’t taken her aspirations seriously and run with them. Oh well, there was always someone else worse off or going through something more horrible. That was worth remembering.
All set up and waiting for consumers to start making their way through, Erica sat on her stool and tried to appear busy. She arranged her lipsticks and rearranged them. But she felt sluggish.
‘Hi there,’ Louisa from across the way said, sidling up to Erica’s counter and checking out her display of stock while trying to appear as if she wasn’t actually taking a mental inventory or whatever she was really up to. Louisa was one of the competitive ones and Erica figured that was why they’d never really hit it off.
‘Hello,’ Erica said. ‘How’s things?’ she said, and sat back to allow Louisa to get a good look. To Erica it was more about the service in educating about the product and doing makeup than the actual sales. Those who knew your brand well came looking for something specific, selected it, and left. As far as Erica could see, Louisa’s pushy nature and false friendliness worked against her, though she didn’t see her sales numbers. Erica’s weren’t anything to write home about but then she didn’t see herself as a gun salesperson like Louisa told everyone she was. Erica’s approach was gentle. She figured honesty and making sure the person looked and felt great when they left had more chance of creating repeat business. And thankfully she did well enough to remain employed. Louisa seemed all about the quick, hard sell. Erica had learnt her approach – though it was also naturally part of her personality – from Stuart: both from listening to him and observing him. Sometimes he had to schmooze clients and organisations for months before getting a deal over the line or admitting something was a lost cause. She’d been in awe of his patience. Though, now she thought about it, perhaps there wasn’t anything to be in awe of given the situation he’d left her in. Her heart instantly sank, as it always did when she thought poorly of him. He’d been a good father and husband – kind and generous. She liked to think he’d have continued to be a good provider if not for the cancer. But her resolve on that was becoming wobbly.
‘See ya,’ Louisa said, with a wave, and wandered off towards the next counter along. As Erica swivelled her chair around to check in her mirror that her own makeup was in pristine condition, she caught the eye of Alastair across the way and they exchanged a smile and raised eyebrows as Alastair nodded in Louisa’s direction.
***
Oh. Erica looked up from her position squatting on the floor where she’d had her head buried in the stock cupboard below the counter. A young man and young woman – probably early to mid-twenties, she figured – were standing above her on the other side and peering over. Thankfully she had the counter as a fence around her so no one could get too close, but still she was a little startled. She straightened herself up.
‘Hello, can I help you?’ As she spoke, she took in their appearance; both were very pale, what Mackenzie would categorise as ‘gamers’ or ‘computer nerds’. Mackenzie loved to classify people, make assumptions about them, but not in an unkind, judgmental way, as far as Erica had seen. The young woman hung back a little and seemed even shyer than the guy, and stood a bit hunched over, her head turned so her hair covered half her face.
‘Is there something I can help you with?’ Erica tried again, this time taking extra effort to push through her sluggishness and appear bright and cheerful. She peered around the young man and tried to make eye contact with his companion. ‘Hi there,’ she said to her.
‘Um. Do you do makeup?’ he asked.
‘I certainly do.’ Erica turned around the framed A4 display on the counter stating her services, how long each item took and the prices.
‘Um, not for me, obviously …’
Erica almost laughed. There was no obviously about anything these days. All sorts of people came in and got her to do their makeup. He stepped aside so his companion with the cute pixie face was more visible.
‘Would you like your makeup done?’ Erica asked.
‘Um. Maybe,’ she said.
‘Yes. Please,’ the young man said. ‘Do you take bookings?’
‘Absolutely. When were you thinking?’ she asked, getting her appointment book out from under the counter.
‘Would later today be possible?’
‘Yes, it would.’
‘Cool. How much is it? Oh. Sorry, I didn’t realise it’s all printed right there,’ he added a second later, looking at the placard of pricing. His neck and face were suddenly flaming.
Erica picked up one of her postcards, a smaller version of her A4 poster, from the pile by her elbow and handed it to him. That had been Stuart’s suggestion when she’d told him how much she hated the negotiation part of the job – well, it wasn’t really negotiable; prices were fixed, but still people tried to beat her down. Her employers had agreed to getting them properly printed and then word had spread around the other counters. Now Erica didn’t think she’d ever seen a counter – in any major department store – that didn’t include a price list of its offerings.
‘Okay, cool,’ he said, after a moment of running his eyes down the card and then looking at the framed brochure again, as if comparing the two. ‘Do you want to, Kayla?’ he asked.
He received a shrug and the quietly uttered reply of, ‘Sure. If you want.’
Erica wondered if they might be brother and sister.
‘Yes, please. I’m Matt and this is Kayla. Can you please book Kayla in for the full makeup at three p.m.?’ He pointed to the item on the framed list.
Erica recorded Matt’s mobile number and then watched them make their way through the store and outside into the mall, wondering if she’d actually see them again. They hadn’t appeared to baulk at the price and had made the booking, but she still wondered if they really would return. So many people didn’t, and gave useless mobile numbers, that she’d suggested to management that they take deposits. But her bosses, Jill and Perry White, said it didn’t quite reflect the ethos of their brand.
***
‘Hi there, ready for your makeover, Kayla?’ Erica said when Matt and Kayla did in fact appear in front of her counter just before three. Again, it seemed to be Matt driving things, with Kayla hanging back as she had earlier.
Kayla shrugged as a reply.
‘Great!’ Erica said, injecting an extra dose of enthusiasm in the hope the girl might catch some of it. ‘Take a seat just here,’ she said, coming around from the counter and patting the high stool. ‘So, do you have any ideas of what you’d like – a really natural look or a little more daring or creative?’ Erica asked, peering at Kayla.
‘Ask him, I’m just the dummy,’ Kayla said with another shrug.
‘Oh, Kayla, that’s Erica wanted to say something, but suddenly wasn’t sure what. Or if she should. She was a little flummoxed. She looked towards Matt. He seemed so kind; surely he didn’t tell Kayla she was stupid.
&
nbsp; ‘Kayla! Don’t say that,’ he said, as round red patches appeared on his cheeks.
‘Sorry. Mannequin,’ she said. ‘I’m just the mannequin.’ She rolled her eyes.
‘Oh. Right,’ Erica said, still unsure what was going on. She tried to keep her frown at bay.
‘She’s doing this for me – not because I think women need to wear makeup to look pretty, or whatever.’ He flapped a hand near his now deep-red face.
‘He dreams of becoming a makeup artist – you know, like on films and stuff?’ Kayla said. ‘He’s watched about a million YouTube videos but … Anyway, this is my birthday present to him – so he can watch someone do it in real life.’
‘Oh. Right,’ Erica said. One of the stranger requests I’ve had, but okay, then.
‘Is that all right?’ Matt said, cringing.
‘So, do you want me to do Kayla up to look, well, normal, pretty – not that you aren’t gorgeous just the way you are – or some other way?’ Erica looked around, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious and not quite sure why. Please don’t say you want to use all my stuff to do Kayla yourself.
‘Oh. I hadn’t thought about you doing something different. What can you do?’
What can’t I do? Erica thought, feeling bold, though her voice didn’t quite match. ‘That’s a how long’s a piece of string type question,’ she said, smiling at them. ‘I actually used to do film makeup – many moons ago. So …’ She waved her hand in a flourish.
‘Oh, wow,’ Matt said. ‘I mean … Oh my god, it’s what I want to do. I think. I just love the movies.’
‘Me too. Working on them and watching them are very different, though. But being involved behind the scenes was pretty awesome.’ Erica struggled to keep her mind from drifting back. Ah, those were the days …
‘So why did you stop?’
‘Other priorities came up. Anyway, so, Kayla … what are we doing?’
‘Did you work on any famous films or people?’ Matt asked, his phone now in his hand. He looked expectantly at Erica, finger poised over his screen.
‘Oh. It was a long time ago. Probably nothing you will have heard of.’ Why am I dismissing my experience like this, damn it? ‘But they’re listed on IMDB. I’m Erica Tolmer and Erica Cunningham – Tolmer is my maiden name.’
‘Oh wow. You are. You’re listed,’ he said, looking up at Erica with eyes big and round. He turned the phone to Kayla.
‘Cool,’ she said.
Erica wasn’t sure if she was being genuine or dismissive.
‘It says No Better Than Dead has some violence.’
‘That’s right, it did.’
‘So, can you do bruises – like realistic bruises?’
‘Of course. It’s been a while, but, yes – through all the stages of healing.’ Erica shuddered inwardly at remembering how hard she’d hit her thigh in order to be better able to observe and document the colour progress than what the textbooks offered and replicate it accurately for the set. Now everything you needed could probably be found on Google and YouTube. It was incredible what people chose to put online, but thankfully they did – it sure made research easier and less painful! ‘But I’m not doing black eyes on Kayla and letting her walk out of here, if that’s what you’re thinking. It wouldn’t be right,’ Erica added. She watched Matt’s enthusiasm deflate.
‘How about a scar down my face?’ Kayla suggested after a moment’s silence and traced a finger down her cheek.
‘Okay,’ Erica said.
‘Oh, yes, please,’ Matt said. ‘How much would you charge for that?’
‘Let’s just leave it the same as a usual makeover.’ Erica bubbled with excitement. She’d forgotten how good it felt to have a challenge like this. ‘So, a relatively fresh scar or wound, or an old one, do you think?’ she asked as she got out her kit, put it on the counter and opened it up. ‘I can’t do raised scar tissue because I don’t have any filler.’
‘I don’t mind what you do as long as I can watch and see how,’ Matt said, so excited he was bouncing on his toes.
‘Okay then, let’s see.’ She pulled the second matching stool from around behind the counter and said to Matt, ‘How about you sit here? Are you in a hurry?’
‘No. Not if you’re not. Oh man, this is awesome,’ Matt said, settling himself on the chair beside Kayla. ‘Can I film it so I have my very own how-to?’
‘Sure. I don’t see why not.’
‘Cool.’
Erica laid out all her bits and pieces and began her work, talking through each item and procedure as she went, making sure to take her time to answer questions and pause regularly to let Matt lean in closer with his phone. She was having an absolute ball, wasn’t at all nervous about being recorded, and was very surprised when she noticed out the corner of her eye that a few people had stopped to watch for a while before moving on. She was shocked to find that according to her watch she’d just spent half an hour playing around creating a jagged wound complete with holes from removed stitches and plenty of redness.
‘That’s fantastic!’ Kayla said when Erica finally turned the mirror towards her, presenting her creation. Her eyes sparkled. ‘I love it.’ Gradually those who’d stopped to watch dispersed.
‘Don’t touch it – it’s just eyeshadow and blush, so it’ll rub off pretty easily,’ Erica said as Kayla raised her fingers to her cheek.
‘I can’t believe you can do that with just colour,’ Kayla said in awe, leaning forwards and staring into the mirror.
‘Well, it’s really just a trick of the light. And then of course the angle you look at it – or film it – plays a part too.’
‘It’s awesome,’ Matt said, putting down his phone and peering at Kayla’s cheek. He then turned to Erica. ‘Thank you so much.’
‘My pleasure. It’s been really fun for me too.’ God, when did I enjoy myself this much? When was I last this happy? Erica’s blood was rushing though her as if she’d just run around the block. Her brain began to fire with what ifs and hypothetical scenarios.
‘So, do you teach?’ Matt asked.
‘No, not beyond explaining what I’m doing so clients can replicate it at home. And I can assure you, this sort of transformation is a first for me in here.’ Oh shit. I hope I don’t get into trouble.
‘You really should. You explain it so well.’
‘Thanks. That’s very kind of you to say. But, as I said, I’m really out of the loop. There are schools and courses that teach makeup face-to-face for film and TV, including special effects,’ Erica said.
‘I know, but the only seriously rated one is in Sydney. And I can’t afford it. Do you think you’d give me a couple of private tutorials?’
‘Oh. I’m really flattered. But, no, sorry. I really don’t have the time.’ A part of Erica longed to help this gentle, passionate young man with his dream, but the stronger, winning part was her fatigue.
‘Please.’
‘I’m sorry, but I can’t. How about an introductory course through the WEA or TAFE?’ she said. ‘Aren’t people already doing them?’
‘No. There’s plenty around on makeup – you know, for different stages in life. But it’s all women’s makeup. I did do one, but I don’t know … I don’t think the woman was a good teacher or very good at all. I just … I don’t … didn’t click with her,’ he said with a shrug.
‘Perhaps you can save up and go to the one in Sydney? If it’s the school I’m thinking of, I’m sure they did short weekend courses.’
‘Yeah. But I have to finish my Business and Commerce degree first. Mum and Dad won’t help me out with anything else unless I do.’
‘Business and Commerce?’ The words had slipped out of Erica before she’d been able to stop them.
‘Yeah. Something to fall back on because, you know, it’s so unlikely to get into film or anything creative, let alone have a career.’
‘I get it.’ But Erica felt a little sorry for him and as always at times like these sent an arrow of gratitude to her pare
nts for letting her forge her own path with no criticism or huge influence beyond their opinion and support. And, really, it was up to Matt if he wanted, seriously wanted, to pursue something different for himself or not. If he was truly passionate about it, he’d find a way.
‘Could I be really cheeky and have you do a bruise on my arm?’ Matt said shyly.
‘Sure. An old looking one – yellowing – or fresh – blues?’
‘Oh. I don’t know. You choose,’ he said, holding out his arm to her.
‘Uh. Okay.’ Erica nibbled on her lip for a moment while she conjured up an image in her mind. ‘Right, so this is as if you’ve belted your arm hard on something with a sharp corner, say a cupboard or benchtop, about four days ago,’ she said as she picked up an applicator and got to work.
Then minutes later she stood back and admired her handiwork and held the mirror up so Matt could get a good view.
‘Wow. You’re good. That’s fantastic.’
Erica smiled. Yep, it is, even if I say so myself. As she watched Kayla taking stills – moving around to capture a variety of angles, Erica felt the urge to pull out her own phone, snap a pic and text it to Stuart with the words: I’m back! I’ve been caught by the bug again.
But just as suddenly she was crushed by the memory that he was no longer receiving text messages and then, barely less painful, the knowledge there was no one to call who would understand what she was feeling. Renee maybe.
And there was no point, anyway. Now was certainly not the right time to think about other career paths, especially one even more precarious than the job she already had. She’d also need to update her skills, and even the cost of the cheapest and shortest of short courses to do that was out of reach.
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