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

Just. Good. Friends

London, January 1993

Katrina couldn't help herself. Although she'd promised Dee she'd keep her appointment as The Rock 'n' Roll Chef's hair and make-up artist a secret as Dee wanted the programme kept firmly under wraps for the moment, she had to tell Alfie about it.

They were back in Chevelure Chic on January 2nd. That time of year was almost always lean in the hairdressing business. Everyone had spent their money in the lead-up to Christmas and New Year, and parties or events didn't happen again until Valentine's Day.

The rich were different, however. Not for them the trivial worries of how you were going to pay off the credit card bill, or spare enough money for the 'leccy. No. Chevelure Chic's clients didn't have to vex themselves on that account. If there were no parties, then there was still the opportunity to pamper yourself and ensure appearances were kept. The New Year was only a few weeks old, but the pace was yet to let up.

She told Alfie about her new freelancing gig as they wandered the streets one lunchtime. Rick only allowed his staff a half-hour break once a day (not counting unscheduled fag breaks) and she and Alfie had both wanted to escape the stuffy, over-scented salon. So far, they'd both done five clients each, and Katrina's shoulders and upper back ached.

"If Rick finds out, you're dead," Alfie said, taking a large bite of the cheese and ham sandwich Katrina had given him. Debbie always made her a packed lunch and seemed to feel that the bigger it was, the better.

The January sales were tailing off, and they skirted around a queue outside a designer boutique that had slashed its prices in half again. There was a beautiful patch leather skirt in the window, and Katrina watched regretfully as a shop assistant took it off the mannequin. Not that she'd have been able to buy it anyway. Half-price or not, the boutique favoured prices only the clients, and not the staff, of Chevelure Chic could afford.

"I know," she said. "Which is why he isnae going to know about it. Is he?"

Alfie swallowed his bit of sandwich and eyed her beadily. "I'm not going to tell on you, doll. I just fink it's too risky. You 'aven't even finished your apprenticeship yet. If Rick sacks you, it won't be easy to get another job."

Alfie wasn't telling her anything she didn't already know. Debbie had said the same, raising an eyebrow when Katrina told her and Daisy she was going to work for a TV production company. Chevelure Chic was the salon Debbie had used for many years before Tony's prison sentence put an end to such luxuries. And she'd got herself a live-in hairdresser in the form of Katrina.

A good job and a steady income were important, she told Katrina. And she should know.

But this was an opportunity and a half, wasn't it? Working in TV AND seeing plenty of Mick. The programme might only be a lowly cookery show, but where might it lead? In her wilder flights of fancy, she imagined some star, dressed in a fur coat and wearing sunglasses, despite it being Hollywood and hot and sunny outside.

"I'm only signing up for this film if you promise me Katrina Burnett is the hair and make-up artist?" The woman tapped the piece of paper in front of her with a long scarlet nail. "She's the only one I trust to make me look good."

Then, she was flown across the Atlantic in a private jet, the said star meeting her at the airport and throwing her arms around her. "Thank GOD, you're here! Make me look beautiful, darling!"

Katrina had always taken risks, hadn't she? Most of the time, they paid off. She risked making friends with the English holiday-maker who landed up in her old hometown and look where that had led. She'd risked leaving her former life behind, and going to London with the Walkers when they fled Kirkcudbright in disgrace, Tony's thieving uncovered, and now her life was 100 percent better than it had ever been in Nowheresville...