The Art Guy (18+) COMPLETE, FREE to READ

Bad Highlights and Contrary Feelings

London, December 1992/93

Much as she loved Daisy and wanted the very best for her, what had happened at the party dismayed Katrina. She didn't like herself for feeling so...narked about it, but there you go. She feigned enthusiasm whenever Daisy talked about it—or him.

While she had spoken to Mick outside, Daisy had been having a conversation with Kippy.

"He was so lovely to me, Kit-Kat!" Daisy said. What seemed like aeons ago, Katrina told Daisy that her good friends called her Kit-Kat. It wasn't true, but Daisy sometimes used the name now, and it felt as sweet and comforting as the biscuit she'd named herself after.

"He told me that if I found someone, that guy better be nice to me or he'd kill them! And then..."

Then, in a moment of pure serendipity, Daisy had ducked under the arm of the guy who stopped Kippy on the stairs. She had moved, half sad, half comforted by kind words towards the kitchen when someone stopped her.

"Daisy? Daisy Walker?"

Lillian, it turned out, knew everyone.

"It's me, Graham? We used to be neighbours years ago?"

Graham and his family had lived next to the Walkers when they'd stayed in another part of London. He was a couple of years older than Daisy, though they had played together as small children. She remembered him as an adventurous, bossy kind of child—always trying to persuade Daisy to join his games about Pirates or Cowboys and Indians.

The grown-up Graham looked nothing like the boy she remembered. Presumably, she still resembled the little girl.

"He's so sexy," she cooed, as she filled Katrina in on what had happened for what felt like the tenth time. "Really tall with this auburn hair."

"A ging-er," Katrina asked scornfully, the word pronounced hard 'g' ging, and the ultimate insult to red-heads.

"No! It's this gorgeous dark-red colour. Like a fox. And he's got dark eyes. No freckles either!"

That could mean one of two things. Either Daisy was saying he didn't have freckles (and red-heads often did) or she was marking his difference from Kippy.

"And when he smiles, he's got this cute little dimple on his left cheek..."

And he's at university, too. I was thinking of applying to that one, what a coincidence, right?

As if! Daisy talked all the time about which university she should go to, weighing up the merits of each. This was the first time she'd mentioned Bristol. Katrina hated the thought of it, too. Daisy should choose somewhere in London. The city offered huge choice when it came to higher education and where you spent the next three years. Bristol was miles away.

And now her best friend was about to be loved up. Already, she was insufferable. Graham this, Graham that—everything in her life was seen through the prism of Graham. Goodness, Graham had mentioned that he liked this band, so Daisy rushed out to buy their CDs, boring Katrina to tears by playing them repeatedly.

Then, every outfit she pulled out of her wardrobe and put on, every make-up look she experimented with was meant to appeal to Graham. Graham preferred the more 'natural' look apparently, so Daisy toned her foundation, powder and lipstick down.

Katrina had always been aware of her own charms. She knew she was attractive and she turned heads, but she had also dressed for herself all her life. Mick had taken the piss out of many of her outfit combinations and hairstyles over the years, and she hadn't changed anything. This sycophantic Daisy didn't please her at all.

It nagged at her, the lack of enthusiasm she felt for Daisy's new-found pleasure. Was it also pique because she thought that if either of them were going to get a boyfriend first, it would be her—Katrina, queen of cool, sophisticated hairdresser/about to be stylist to the stars?

She could list all Graham's merits just as well as Daisy, seeing as she'd heard them so often. They had been together just as the bells sounded out and marking 00.01 of 1993. He had turned to her and pulled her to him.

"God, Kit-Kat! It was just the best—the best, the best, the best! He said he couldn't believe I'd turned out so beautiful. And he made me copy his phone number out three times, just in case I lost the other two! Here it is!"

She held out three grubby pieces of paper, fanning them out like a hand of cards. "So amazing! We're going to meet up before he goes back to uni, but he doesn't go back there until the middle of January. I wonder what we'll do for our first date, or do you think we've already had it, the party, I mean..."

Urgh. The Daisy stream of consciousness, out loud thinking. Ten times as bad when it related to a guy.

"Did you kiss anyone?" she asked, the question seemingly artless. The bitch knew the answer fine. Mick had vanished off with Callie. She'd deliberately not looked for him, afraid of what she might see. Callie might claim she liked food better than sex, but Katrina was willing to bet her tongue would find its way inside Mick's mouth when it got to midnight.

A few party-goers had leered at her and tried to lurch forwards as the bells struck, but Katrina would have none of it. She had never experienced the so-called beer goggles, partly because she never let herself drink too much and partly because she'd had years of living with the Mick crush. Beer goggles never made anyone look remotely like him, no matter how strong the drink.

Even Alfie...bloody Alfie had been snogging the face off some girl. "Bad highlights," Katrina noted grumpily. "he's a hairdresser too, you'd have thought he had standards!"

"This is Cheryl," he said, insistent he introduce her to Katrina. Katrina could quite happily have lived without ever having said 'hello' to Cheryl Bad Highlights.

"Hi."

Cheryl looked taken aback. Maybe she needed to dial down the hostility.

"Nice highlights."

Unbelievably, Cheryl took that at face value, smiling in appreciation, though Alfie flashed her a suspicious look. The girl had two-inch dark roots, and the blonde was a brassy colour.

She had drifted back to Lillian who had tried quizzing her about Kippy again, probing her about what it had been like for him growing up gay in Kirkcudbright. Katrina decided honesty was the policy. She had no idea, she told Lillian, as she'd only recently realised he was gay. He'd managed to keep it very quiet. If he'd ever managed a relationship with another guy there, she would have known about it.

Heck, the whole town would have known it. You couldn't keep that kind of thing quiet in a place the size of Kirkcudbright.

A memory surfaced—a charcoal picture of a long-dead guy, and she blinked away a tear. Lillian noticed straight away.

"Hey! Don't be sad. This year is going to be amazing. I can feel it in my bones. I'm so glad to have met you."

She hugged Katrina again. "If I ever visit Kirkcudbright, can I stay with you?"

It was safe enough to say yes. Katrina was willing to bet Lillian would never visit.

"Shall I find you a boyfriend?"

Katrina hadn't been listening properly, but the word 'boyfriend' grabbed her attention.

"NO!"

She and Lillian weren't that different, really. They both fancied themselves with the ability to sort out others' lives. It resulted in extreme bossiness, and it felt wrong when it was applied to you in turn.

"I'm asexual."

Start the New Year with a big lie. Why not? The magazines kept telling her that in the 90s, openness about your sexuality was THE thing. They meant you to be open about lustful feelings. The modern woman was as likely to get the horn as a man. Now, she was expected to talk about it too. That kind of thing always made Katrina feel contrary.

Declare yourself different.

Lillian had turned to look at her, her eyes focused and unblinking. "Cool. You might just have started a trend."

Aw, crap. She meant it, too.