The 9 by Madalyn Morgan (tools of titans ebook .txt) 📕

one pink. Ena whistled. ‘Richard Hudnut? These look expensive.’ She took the top off the yellow bottle and sniffed. ‘Mm, smells lovely. Enriched Crème Shampoo with egg? With egg?’ she repeated. ‘I can’t imagine why they’d put egg in it.’ She read the label on the pink bottle. ‘Crème Rinse, hair conditioner. These will do. Where on earth did you get them?’

‘I didn’t. A Yank who was sweet on Bertie had his sister send them over from the States.’

‘Won’t she mind if I use them on Dibbs’ hair?’

‘No, they’re for everyone.’ Binkie looked down at Dibbs’s hair and grimaced. ‘Use as much as you like, Ena.’ Binkie bent down and spoke into her friend’s ear. ‘I think you left the peroxide on a little too long, Dibbs old girl.’

‘Don’t start, Binkie,’ Dibbs mumbled, with her head in the basin.

Dibbs was sitting with the cream conditioner on her hair when Bertie and Woody arrived. ‘I’ll wash Woody’s hair,’ Bertie said, ‘while you set Dibbs’ hair, Ena.’

‘And I’ll wash your hair, Bertie, while Ena sets Woody’s. What fun. It’s like a hairdressing production line.’

Fun it might be for Binkie, but for Ena it was hard work. Dibbs’s hair was dry first. She had put her under the big dome hairdryer, on a low to medium heat. Ena daren’t use the metal curlers that Dibbs had brought for fear that when she took them out, Dibbs’ hair would stay round them. Instead she made barrel curls round her fingers, which were kept in place with Kirby grips and a hair net. At the front, she’d risked using metal wave grippers that had fairly big teeth, which, to Ena’s relief, released Dibbs’s hair from their grasp immediately without pulling out a single hair.

Woody and Bertie had simpler styles. Both had waves at the front, Woody’s hair was longer and thicker with a natural curl that was easy to set in deep waves. At the bottom, however, it took real effort and patience for Ena to comb it around her fingers into a roll. Bertie’s hair, although it had some natural curl, was shorter and finer. Sweeping it over to the right, Ena brushed it into soft waves turning the length at the neck into a small neat bun. After securing the bun, Ena placed a small diamante slide above her ear to hold a loose wave in place.

A quick comb through Binkie’s hair to tidy it up, and the four friends were ready to go to the dance.

When the last of Binkie’s pals had left, Binkie told Ena to take anything she wanted from the clothes rail, the shoe rack too. Ena had brought her own dress, but thanked Binkie. Ena looked again through the dresses hanging on the portable clothes rail. She would have given anything to wear the green satin. It reminded her of the dress her sister Bess had worn on her twenty-first birthday. She took it from the rail, admired it, and put it back. The thought of spilling something on such an expensive dress petrified her.

Ena took her own dress from the case, ran the iron over it, and put it on. She stared in the mirror. She looked fine. Her own dress, royal blue flowers on a white background, fitted snugly over her small bust and hips. And the skirt, cut on the cross, was perfect for dancing.

She put on rouge and lipstick, and dabbed power on her cheeks to calm down the rouge. Giggling, Ena went over to the shelf where the perfumes were and picked up a bottle of L’Aimant by Coty. Dabbing it first on her wrists, she put a spot behind each ear and a little on her chest above the ‘V’ of the sweetheart neckline on her dress.

Going back to the mirror, Ena turned to the left and the right. She was happy with the way the dress looked on her. She liked the shape and the swing of the skirt, but it was more than that, she felt comfortable in it.

Ena met Henry as arranged, outside the dance hall at seven o’clock. She had never seen Henry dressed in anything other than corduroy trousers and a cable knit jumper, or slacks and a tweed jacket. Even when he and Bess had been walking out together, he always dressed casually. Tonight, in a dark suit and white shirt, with his hair slicked back with brilliantine, he looked very smart, and very handsome.

‘What are you staring at?’ he laughed.

‘You. I haven’t seen you dressed up before. You look…’

‘Ridiculous?’

‘No! Handsome.’

Red faced, Henry hooked his index and middle fingers behind the collar of his shirt and ran them around the inside. He loosened the knot of his tie. ‘Not much call for clothes like this at the Park.’

‘There should be.’ Ena put her small case and handbag on the ground, and stretching up, straightened his tie. ‘That better? Not too tight?’ He shook his head and Ena looked to the sky. ‘Come on, we don’t want to miss the first dance,’ she said, picking up her case and bag.

‘I don’t mind escorting you, Ena, but I’m no dancer.’

‘So I’ve heard. Binkie thinks you’d be a catch if you weren’t such a boffin. She calls you Highbrow Henry.’ Henry clicked his tongue and threw back his head. ‘She said she has never seen you dance, because you’ve never been to a dance. But we’ll show her.’ Ena linked her arm though Henry’s and strode along to keep in step with him.

The band was warming up when they arrived. Ena checked her coat and small suitcase into the cloakroom. After scanning the room for Freda and not seeing her, Ena joined Henry who was queuing at the bar. ‘What does young Ena drink these days?’

Ena grimaced. ‘I’m warning you, if you treat me like a child, I shall behave like one and spill my