Born Blonde

The quality of the envelope dropped a big fat hint to Hilary, that there might be something of interest inside its tactile creamy-coloured layers.  This was an envelope that had been sealed using a damp sponge, definitely no tongues involved in the procedure, and finished off with a little blue butterfly sticker covering all the pointy joints on the back.  She paused for a second and tried to think if there was a name for this gummed junction.  She decided there wasn’t, but thought there should be.  She would email someone like Stephen Fry later.

Speaking of butterflies, she felt she had at least a million, well maybe a few hundred, of the little fluttery souls twiddling around in her stomach.  Who was it from? What was inside it? Was it a wedding invite? She could wait no longer.  Ever so carefully she slid the sharp side of the (clean) vegetable knife into the envelope, and sliced it open with the speed and precision of a French soldier knocking the top of his champagne bottle.  She definitely knew there was a name for this, but sadly it alluded her.  Another query to go in the email to S.F.

Inside the envelope, was an invitation with the edges cut off with posh pinking shears.  It began:

‘Hello there fellow classmate!

It has been 25 years since we all left the Comp., so a few of us have decided it’s time we had a reunion before we all get too long in the tooth to enjoy a good girly knees-up!’

The invite prattled on and on with blah blah this venue and blah blah several types of craft gin, but Hilary couldn’t take it in.  To say her blood ran cold is an insult to invertebrates everywhere, but she could almost feel ice cubes of the stuff rattling through her veins at the words ‘girly knees-up’: she didn’t do girly very well.  She forced herself to speed read to the bottom of the invite to determine who it was from – it was simply signed ‘Jackie‘.

Jackie? It had to be Jackie McCool, the girl with the best name in the school, in fact, probably the best name in the world, ever, and one day older than Hilary.  She hadn’t seen or thought about Jackie in years, and now she was back in her thoughts; a most unwelcome visitor.   Hilary blinked a few times then flopped onto the nearest chair, laying her head back and stared up at the ceiling, which she noted was surprisingly cobweb-free.  She contemplated, for the umpteenth time, how different her life would have been if her mother hadn’t gone to that antenatal appointment with Ma McCool, or if when she had insisted on accompanying her new ‘friend’, she’d simply kept schtum when said friend slyly enquired what name she had chosen, should the bambino be a girl.  Before you could say ‘pant for the head’, both babies had been born within a day of each other, with sneaky Ma McCool stealing Hilary’s real name.  Hilary imagined the conversation going something like this:

“Good morning, Evelyn,” (this is Hilary’s mum’s name) says Ma McCool.

“Good morning, Tina,” (this is Ma McCool’s real name) says Evelyn.

“Just wanted to let you know, Evelyn, I have registered her birth and called her Jacqueline” says the sneaky cow.

“Oh,” says Evelyn spinelessly, “that was my…”

“I know you wanted it,” interrupts the name thief.  “But let’s face it, Evelyn, Jackie Jackson would never work, would it, but Jackie McCool has a certain ring to it.  You can have my first choice if you want, it’s Hilary…”

Hilary Jackson continued staring at the ceiling, imagining how Jackie Jackson’s life would have been.  For starters, it would be spelled Jacki with no E on the end.  How cool would that have been you thieving McCool gangsters, she thought angrily, whilst giving the finger to the totally innocent, cobweb-free ceiling.  She knew it was childish and cliched to play the “if only” game, but Jacki with no E, would have been rich, blonde, popular, clever, sporty and most importantly slim.  Hilary Jackson and Jacki with no E shared only one attribute, they were both blonde although Hilary’s mother defined hers as strawberry blonde aka ginger.

Hilary woke up with a very stiff neck, realizing she had fallen asleep, and noted, with a tad of pleasure, not only had she had a quality snooze, she had also dreamt she had been at Jackie McCool’s’ funeral.  The funeral had been well attended by a number of friends she recognized.  The Eulogy was given by both of the Taylor twins who were dressed as identical hot dogs, and together gave an alarming monosyllabic account about the demise of Jackie McCool.   From being the most popular girl in the school to becoming an assassin for an Organised Crime Group led by a mysterious hedgehog, who had ultimately arranged a hit on Jackie because it was fed up of her whiny voice.  Hilary thought this was all a bit surreal, but what an ending and then she sadly remembered this wasn’t real.  She tried to go back to sleep to change the dream so that Jacki with no E could be the hedgehog in disguise, but alas, sleep was not forthcoming.  Hilary returned her attention to the invitation, and noticed there was an RSVP, which Jackie wanted completed ASAP, and a £50 deposit by BACS transfer in order to secure the venue.  Apart from there being far too many acronyms for her liking, Hilary thought a fifty quid deposit, was taking the mickey.  Where was this venue and how much was the final bill likely to be? Apparently, Jackie McCool would be sending out the final details once she was certain of numbers.  Hilary knew one thing for certain; she could certainly polish off £50 worth of craft gin at restaurant prices in about half an hour.

Hilary took a breath in as she realized she was slowly but surely thinking about responding positively to the invite, or rather Jacki with No E was the one who would be voting ‘yay’ rather than ‘nay’.  Hilary drifted a little, thinking about the outfit she would buy for Jacki with no E to wear for the do.  A nice classy dress with a tie collar? No, that’s what Hilary might wear, but Jacki with no E would wear a chiffony playsuit, with killer heels and matching bag.  Hilary pondered on the playsuit idea, and thought better of it, remembering the palaver required to go to the toilet.  She would come back to the outfit conundrum later.  There were so many other things to consider like making sure Jacki with no E’s hair was going to be drop dead gorgeous.  It was time, actually it was well past time, for Hilary to take the plunge and metamorphosize into Jacki with no E, and the starting point would be today.  So, with a little trepidation, Hilary began to say ‘bye-bye strawberry blonde’ and a big ‘hello’ to the box of ‘Radiant Butter Blonde’ that had been sitting at the back of the bathroom cabinet for the last five years.  She mixed up the two bottles of stinky potion, carefully squeezing the bottle, so the gooey liquid sloshed evenly around her scalp, stinging as it went.  Hilary thought pride is painful, and soldiered on, until her entire head was covered and tied up in a plastic bag.  She set the timer for thirty minutes, then extended it by a further ten minutes to be extra safe and ensure she was going to look like a Swedish supermodel at least.

Things were happening, the wheels were in motion, so she decided to strike whilst the iron was hot, even though she had no idea whether this referred to an ironing iron, or some other type of iron.  Another query to put in Stephen’s email.  She needed to transfer the £50 deposit to Jackie quickly, she couldn’t risk losing her place now.  She went onto her banking app, checking her balance before carefully creating Jackie McCool as a new payee; the account name to transfer the funds to simply said ‘J.J. Holdings’, she wondered if Jackie had lost 50% of her cool name when she got married perhaps? She then typed in both the sort code, and the account number and after a few fiddly bits pressed ‘confirm transfer’ and her deposit magically whizzed its way into Jackie McCool’s account.

Her phone sprang to life, alerting her it was Spineless Evelyn Jackson aka Mother wanting to do a video call.   Hilary accepted the call telling her mother for the umpteenth time that she didn’t have to put the phone to her ear, she just needed to look at the screen.

“I’m dying my hair Mum.  Everything OK?’ Hilary asked with a slight air of annoyance.

“What do you mean you’re dying your hair? That beautiful strawberry blonde…”

Spineless Evelyn Jackson was cut off abruptly by Hilary spitting out, “It’s ginger, Mum.  Ginger.  Always was, until today.  I’m taking control of my life, and going in a new direction, and it starts with the hair.”

“Well, OK dear.  It’s your hair, and I’ve never interfered with anything in your life, have I?”

Hilary did not respond.

“Hilary, Hilary are you still there?”

“Yes, mother.  Anyway, did you want something or are you just wanting to wind me up?” Hilary asked impatiently as she noticed it was nearly time to rinse the dye off.

“I’ve just had a call from Molly Perkins.  Do you remember her, Hilary? Always wore a kilt even in July, and a mauve quilted anorak, maroon shoes…”

“YES, MOTHER, I remember her!” shouted Hilary exasperated.

“Well, Molly goes to a local ‘Fit and Fine at 79” club, and they’ve had a talk from the police today, dear.”

“Zipadeedoodah!” said Hilary with more than a whiff of sarcasm.

“Anyway, it seems there is a nasty scam doing the rounds, where people are being sent a beautiful invitation to a pretend school reunion.  It all looks quite enticing really.  Molly says the young constable, who she thought looked a bit like Donny Osmond, said the gist of it is the scammer is signing it from someone called ‘Jackie’ and is asking for £50 to be transferred to a bogus account as a deposit to go to the do.  PC Osmond says some people are falling for it, because there was always someone called “Jackie” in every school about twenty-five years ago, wasn’t there? He has asked Molly to tell all her friends who might have children about your age Hilary, to be on the ball and …  Hilary, I don’t like to say anything, but your hair is going a bright pinky orange colour.”

At this point, Hilary felt her face flush bright red.  She was unsure whether it was with embarrassment from the dawning realization, that she had been scammed but reasoned it was equally likely to be the out-of-date dodgy ‘Radiant Butter Blonde’ dye which was dripping down her face, like rivulets of boiling hot lava.

“I know its pink,” snapped Hilary.  “It’s exactly the look I was wanting.”

“Well, if you want to change it back at any time, here’s a bit of gossip for you.  I also heard from Molly that Tina McCool’s daughter is back from Australia.  Did I tell you she had emigrated and was running a chain of hairdressing salons? Anyway, she’s back now, ‘cos her life’s gone pear-shaped, and she’s opened a small salon in town.  Molly says its nothing to write home about, but it’s cheap as she’s trying to re-establish herself.  Couldn’t happen to a nicer girl, she always was a little madam that one.  I was so pleased you didn’t turn out like her.  She’s a brunette now, Molly said, apparently it’s aged her terribly.  Strange though, isn’t it? Her name being Jackie, like the scammer, although it’s such a common name, there are Jackies everywhere, but not many Hilarys.  I might just mention it to PC Osmond.  See you love – remind me how to knock this blessed thing off.”  In a flash, she was gone.

Hilary Jackson looked up at the ceiling again, and spotted a tiny spider going about its business, spinning cobwebs for her to tut-tut about.  She thought about what a totally bonkers day it had been, and although she felt very, very foolish, and was fifty quid lighter, she had learned some valuable lessons.  She knew it was time to wave ‘adios’ to Jacki with no E, even though she had never worn her killer heels.  Hilary Jackson was doing OK, thank you.  She blew a kiss in the air to her lovely mum, hoping she would sense it was in the clouds for her to catch.  She also reminded herself to delete the ‘Spineless’ moniker from Evelyn Jackson’s contact details in her phone.  She might replace it with ‘Miss Marple’ instead, or maybe simply Mum.  A tiny part of Hilary was hoping and praying that Jackie McCool really was the scammer, but knew deep down she wasn’t.  She was just like the rest of us, muddling through as best she can.  However, once she had rinsed the dye off her now white-hot burning scalp, Hilary thought she might try and return to her hedgehog assassin dream; there was unfinished business there.   Or, she might seek out the details for Jackie’s new salon and get an appointment to have her hair redyed as a strawberry blonde once and for all.