Page 29 of What Would Dolly Do?

‘C ’mon, you know I’m right. We need to put the new image to the test. It’s a friendly crowd … you can do this!’

Laura was doing her very best to convince me but I remained sitting on the end of her and Fergus’s bed transfixed at the sight of myself in her dressing table mirror and feeling mildly terrified.

She’d insisted on smuggling me into the house, up the stairs and into the bedroom so I could put on one of my new outfits and then give Fergus and Tom the very first glimpse of the result of my make-over.

Yet another of Laura’s cunning plans … did they never end?

The reveal idea had occurred to Laura while we grabbed a cheeky glass of wine and a bite to eat at the pub down the road from Forthview House.

It had been a long day, we were both starving and we reckoned we’d earned a final stop-off before we returned home to the guys and the kids.

It was while we tucked into steaming bowls of pasta that Laura hatched her latest brainwave.

I was still reeling from the results of the last part of ‘Operation Makeover’ and had little to no resistance left.

We’d left Handbags and Gladrags vintage store on a complete high.

The pre-loved prices of the two glittery coats and Vivienne Westwood corset had been surprisingly reasonable but then Laura had also managed to wangle a decent discount as we were buying several items. ‘You’ve a new regular customer right here,’ Laura told the guy on the till who clearly knew her well.

‘Rebecca will be coming back here again for more stage gear, won’t you, Rebecca? ’

I’d nodded enthusiastically although I was a bit embarrassed by Laura talking me up like that to a stranger.

The shop assistant looked pretty impressed at the mention of me wearing stuff on stage though and I made a mental note to seek out Jarvis next time I came into the store.

Laura was right, there certainly would be a next time.

As soon as we hit the street Laura pulled out her phone and hailed an Uber. The taxi arrived in minutes and while we were in the back seat heading – goodness knows where – Laura told me she’d already been in touch with her local salon and managed to get an appointment in the next half hour.

‘Ruth is a good mate, I’ve known her since school,’ Laura explained. ‘She’s just finished her last customer for the day but she’s cool about sticking around for us.’

‘Us?’ I didn’t think Laura had pulled in a favour from her hairdresser mate because she suddenly had the urge to get a blow-dry.

‘Well, yes … I mean you, I suppose,’ Laura said while having the decency to look a little bit sheepish.

She was quick to insist she didn’t think there was anything wrong with my hair, as such, but said I should give myself chance to reconsider my whole ‘look’ if I was striving for a stronger image.

Once again, I couldn’t help but agree with her, although while I considered what could be done with my unruly, mousey hair I wasn’t coming up with many answers.

‘Don’t worry about that,’ Laura said, reassuringly, ‘Ruth will know just what to do. She’s great.’

Ruth ran her hands through my hair, looked closely at my bone structure and even rifled through the shopping bags to get an idea of the image we were attempting to create before making a series of suggestions.

The first revelation was that she believed I had naturally curly hair. This was brand new information for me. I’d been fighting my hair for years, struggling and straightening when I apparently needed to use particular products which would do wonders for my waves.

Next, she suggested we lifted my locks with colour. ‘You could go blonde,’ Ruth said flicking through a chart with a myriad of hair tufts in numerous shades. ‘Something with honey tones or a full-on platinum Marilyn?’

It was tempting but I’d never really seen myself as a blonde bombshell like Monroe. Plus, it might just tempt me back to my Dolly comfort zone. The mention of Marilyn made me think of another girl’s name however, one who had green eyes just like me …

‘Jolene!’ I said.

Laura got the reference at once. ‘Ahh yes, you already have the ivory skin and eyes of emerald green … all you need now is the flaming locks of auburn hair!’

Ruth immediately started rifling through the colour chart until we found a beautiful shade of burnished coppery red. I adored it as soon as I saw it, but wondered if it would suit me.

‘Suit you? This colour is going to be just perfect on you,’ Ruth said and before I knew it the colour was mixed and applied. ‘Bye bye mouse, hello foxy,’ Ruth said with obvious relish as she finished painting the last of the paste onto my head.

While we waited for the colour to take she shaped my eyebrows and showed me how to create a smoky eye look with a soft brown kajal eyeliner and a touch of mascara. It was incredible how much difference those touches made. My eyes looked greener than ever before.

I was so fidgety in the chair Ruth and Laura decided I should face away from the mirror after my hair had been washed so I couldn’t see the results of the colour application until after Ruth had trimmed the ends of my hair and massaged some curl-enhancing product throughout.

She then dried it with a diffuser and applied some touches of hair oil to add definition and stood back to admire her work.

‘Wow,’ she said.

‘Really?’ I asked.

‘Look for yourself.’

She twirled the chair around and I caught sight of myself as a redhead for the very first time.

‘Wow! … I mean … it’s just … I look so different.’

Laura came and leaned in close to me looking into our reflection in the mirror. ‘You were right the first time. You look amazing … Wow is all there is to say!’

So now I sat on the end of Laura’s bed looking at a woman with gorgeous red hair tumbling around her pale face and vivid green eyes.

She wore the Vivienne Westwood blue tartan bodice top, well cut black satin pants tucked into rhinestone studded ankle boots.

Her make-up was classy, smoky eyes, a slick of glossy dark red lipstick and a hint of blush revealing excellent cheekbones.

She looked like a performer, like she belonged on a stage or in front of a camera.

She looked like she was someone pretty special.

The woman was me, but through a new lens. Stage me.

‘Let’s go.’ I’d dithered and delayed but I just needed to get this over with.

I needed to gauge the reaction to this new me by walking down the stairs and entering the kitchen where Tom and Ferg were waiting for the big reveal.

I wasn’t expecting them to be anything but supportive, they were both decent guys after all, but I was pretty sure I’d be able to tell from their expressions if they were disappointed, appalled or were trying suppress a fit of giggles if they thought I looked ridiculous.

I wasn’t looking forward to having to face whatever I was bound to see in their eyes but it was better to know now than find out the brutal truth from strangers who would have no regard for my feelings.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have been too bothered about anyone else’s opinion.

I thought I looked pretty damn good. Laura had been encouraging, inventive and bold in her suggestions but I hadn’t agreed to anything I didn’t want to.

I’d been thrilled to buy clothes more colourful and outrageous than I’d ever owned before and my hair really was my crowning glory now.

Even if I never wore Vivienne Westwood ever again I was keeping the red hair!

But I couldn’t help caring about what other people would think about a new, improved, revamped Becky Mooney.

If I wanted to perform as myself I would have to do that in front of an audience - that was the only way that sort of thing worked to be honest – there was no point being confident in a room all by yourself, you had to be able to carry it off in public.

With that in mind I headed down the stairs, took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen.

Ferg’s mouth fell open while his eyes were like saucers and I registered Tom do a double take and give a low whistle.

I glanced from one man to the other, waited for the sinking feeling to hit the pit of my stomach as I picked up hesitation or rejection to this new version of me.

But neither were forthcoming. Instead I could only sense approval, it was written all over their faces and the more they looked the more they seemed to like it.

‘You look great!’ Fergus said, a big daft grin on his face. His reaction rang true, I truly couldn’t detect anything but honesty coming from his direction.

I turned my attention to Tom who was still standing, as though dumbstruck, hands on hips his eyes going up and down my body as though he couldn’t get enough of looking at me.

As his gaze came up to my face and we locked eyes my heart flipped.

He liked it. He most definitely liked it.

In three large strides he was suddenly right in front of me.

‘Hey you,’ he said softly, his voice catching in his throat as he slid his hands up my bare arms making my spine shiver and my legs tremble.

‘You look absolutely incredible. I love it. But what’s far more important … do you love it?’

The question was unexpected but exactly the right thing for him to say and a wonderful thing for me to hear in that moment.

I was thrilled he thought I looked good, but even more thrilled that he cared about what I thought, what I felt about taking this step forward.

I didn’t trust my voice right then so I returned his gaze and smiled and nodded.

‘This isn’t a new you, Rebecca.’ His voice was still soft and low as he spoke. He was smiling back at me but sounded deadly serious. ‘This is simply the real you, the person who was always there, inside, but now everyone in the world will be able to properly see her.’

He kissed me then and I kissed him back. My head was spinning with possibilities and I felt I was on the brink of something …