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The car park, Churchill Square Shopping Centre

 

On the way down to level three, Martina starts to panic. What was she thinking?

 

She hadn’t come to Churchill Square to buy anything, just to enjoy wasting time window-shopping before she picked up her youngest son from school. But then she’d seen the Nike top. It was reduced; only £20.

 

She’s a single mother on benefits; never buys new clothes. She usually gets them in jumble sales; Oxfam’s too expensive now that all the middle-classes go.

 

She had looked at the top and thought, It’s such a bargain. She didn’t even try it on. I’m going to do it anyway for the hell of it.

 

Now all she had on her was about £3.50, enough to pay for the parking and that’s it for the whole weekend until her money comes through on Monday.

 

Fear obliterates any pleasure she got from the top – that sense of insecurity and dread you get when you realise you’re penniless. She always makes sure she has enough food at home, but there’s nothing now for emergencies. Or cigarettes. How is she going to make it through the weekend without her Royals?

 

She gets in her clapped-out Volvo and drives to the exit, calming herself. I’ll get through. I’ll get through – though she’s not sure how.

 

At the barrier she stops. It’s then she looks down at the concrete and sees the crumpled note. She puts the handbrake on, jumps out, picks it up. Unbelievably, it’s £20.

 

She looks around. There’s no other car around. Amazing the wind didn’t blow it away. You see? I do have good things in my life. It’s a tiny moment of good luck. Martina is not usually a fortunate person. Life is hard. Five years ago, her second son died aged 18. It won’t get easier. She doesn’t know yet that her beloved older son will die, too, tragically, in just one year from now.

 

For the moment though, she takes the note and puts it in her pocket. Whoopee!

 

That weekend, her friends admire her new top. "What happened?" they say. "You won the lottery?"

 

 


Even her parents didn’t know what to do with Swena’s hair

Shae Shae Creations – Afro hair specialists, 50 Queen’s Road

 

Swena sits in the chair while Amanda’s fingers tug gently at her hair, easing it into two-strand twists. With her glasses on the shelf she can’t even see what Amanda’s doing. She doesn’t really care. She loves the feeling of it, the fingers working away at her scalp.

 

Outside of London, it can feel impossible to find a good hairdresser. Six years ago there had been that hairdresser in Worthing: "Oh yeah. I’ve done black hair before." Ha!

 

It was after that disastrous experience that a South African friend told her about this place. "Take the train to Brighton. Walk straight down from the station. You can’t miss it."

 

Even her parents didn’t know what to do with Swena’s hair. It is a mix, finer and softer than most people’s – and there is so much of it. Exasperated, her parents would just put straighteners in it to make it easy. Swena remembers how her scalp used to itch so badly afterwards. It used to really get to her. Amanda says she sees that all the time, scalps scarred from years of using chemicals.



 

Since that first time, six years ago, Swena’s been a regular here. She used to come every month, but it’s harder now she spends so much time working abroad.

 

It’s good to stop. Just to be pampered for a while. It will take Amanda an hour and a half to finish the twists. All that time, Swena has to sit still.

 

She’s been working far too hard recently. Since the Eurostar brought her back from Paris on Thursday, she’s been looking

forward to this.

 

She works in finance. That’s the boring part; the languages are what she likes. But it’s hard, being away so much.

 

So today is just about chilling out. On her way she bought a pair of jeans, thinking she’d want something to look good in.

 

Afterwards, feeling fantastic, she thinks she’ll go down to the Lanes and look for a pair of shoes and maybe a blouse to go with her new funky hair.

 

 


Good Lord!


Date: 2015-12-24; view: 710


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