Tried With Fire - (Ruth Harris Series)

Chapter 3

Suddenly, somehow, I was in a vast room with a dozen mirrors, and a dozen women around me chin-wagging about nothing important. There were loud noises and white walls. I scanned the room and saw that my daughter was sitting in a chair beside me, kicking out her legs while a stranger walked towards her with something sharp in their hand...
               'Oh! Ruth! Honestly, you're such a fidgeter.' Emma sighed from behind me. I looked up and relaxed back into my chair. 'I thought Olivia's restless legs were frustrating, but you've just made me drop the bit of hair I needed to feather. Hold still, so I can find it again.'
'Sorry.' I exhaled. I looked at Emma in the mirror: she was an attractive lady with blonde hair, long legs and blue eyes. She always wore knee length dresses. She was also the wife of Hunter's boss and friend, Ryan. That meant her salon pampered Olivia for free, and myself at a discount. She was like that: friendly, kind-hearted. I remember meeting her for the first time at our husbands' office party, five Christmases ago. She shook my hand and smiled and then, as soon as the men were out of earshot, told me her 'silly posh dress' was 'suffocating' her and that the office was 'way too uptight for a proper party'. I remember instantly loving her easy going nature and London accent, and felt able to tell her about my DID by our second drink (non alcoholic for me, of course). We've been friends ever since that night.
               'Oh, darling,' Emma smiled, 'don't you worry. They call me the best hairdresser in England for a reason.'
'Who calls you that exactly?' Susie teased from the seat on my right. I smiled when I saw her, because suddenly this situation felt very familiar. It took me until that second to fully understand that I was at the salon with my two best friends, my daughter, and my mother.
'Hey, watch it Suze or you'll be leaving here with a mullet!' Emma bantered back.
               'How are you doing, Mama?' I called down the row of leather chairs, to the woman with layers of foil and dye in her hair. She lifted her eyes away from her magazine and smiled warmly.
'Peachy, as Andy likes to say. No more greys for me!'
'You barely had any.' I said. Susie agreed.
'Mummy, can I go and look at Nonna's magazine now?' Olivia asked me.
'Not yet, bambina. The nice lady is still cutting your hair.'
'Two more minutes.' the Polish hairdresser said. 'Then I am done.'
               When I glanced to my right again, I noticed that Susie and Mama were lost in loud conversation.
'I know! Honestly, it's like having Andy living at home all over again! Even when I remind Marco to wash his plate up after he uses it, he still manages to leave a splash of sauce or something on it. What good is that to me?'
'Oh, tell me about it.' Susie snorted. 'I could tell Andy ten times and write a note on the tap but he'll still 'forget' to wash up after himself! I feel like all I do is nag at him. Oh, and this is the thing that really bugs me - he always leaves his dirty clothes next to the laundry basket, but never in it! It's such a simple thing to do, but I think he tries to chuck his clothes in and always misses. I should get him to play basketball with Hunter - it might improve his aim!'
'Mamma Mia, don't get me started on Hunter and his basketball.' I chuckled to them. 'It's all we talk about on Wednesday nights. I don't understand why a bunch of businessmen see chucking a ball about as a 'wellbeing' activity.'
'Hang on, so do they get paid to play it?' Susie asked.
'Yeah! Two hours a week, paid, to 'shoot hoops'.' I groaned playfully to them all. Olivia was looking down at a gardening magazine and using a pair of blunted scissors to cut out flower arrangements she liked. 'Please be careful with those, Liv. Anyway, Hunter loves the basketball more than his actual job.'
'Is he any good?'
'Oh, come on, it's Hunter. Of course he's amazing at it. He's amazing at everything.'
'That's true.' Susie and Mama both said. Emma chimed in,
'I bet you never have to nag at him to clean up after himself either.'
'No!' Olivia suddenly said. 'Mummy's the messy one. Me and Daddy are tidy! Mummy leaves makeup all over her sink and her clothes are always all on the floor.'
               We all stared at her outburst for a second, and then laughed our heads off. Emma's hairdressers had to stand back and wait for us to sit still again, although they were chuckling too. Emma was not waiting long anyway, because after two shakes of my shoulders I froze. I couldn't find myself in the mirror. There was nobody sitting in my chair - not even an alter, or some horrific projection of one of my many past abusers. There was just an empty, brown, square leather chair, and Emma behind it, focusing on cutting the air in a perfect line.
               After a few heartbeats my reflection returned as if it had never been gone. The sound of the salon returned too, which I hadn't realised had stopped until it started again. I was back, gazing at myself with wide, petrified eyes. The ladies around me were still laughing. Mama still had hair like a cyborg, Susie's nails were still laid out flat on the desk in front of her, drying, and Olivia's little legs were still kicking. Only Emma seemed to notice my discomfort, but she said nothing. She just returned to trimming the layers in my hair, because after five years of friendship she understood that I hated being the weirdest person in the room.
               So, feeling slightly awkward, I picked my phone up from my lap and started typing a message to my husband. Then I deleted it. Then I typed it out again, deleted it, typed it out again, and sent it. It read: