The Queen's Curls

-1941- Secrets

This time, instead of the hinges announcing her next guest's arrival, it was the bell that she had previously installed above the door.

She looks up from where she had been attempting to organize the insanely cluttered drawers at the front counter to see not one, not two, but four people enter her shop.

The parlour woman furrows her brow slightly at the amount of people that had entered her store. "What can I do for you, my dears?"

The eldest — a woman with hair like the brightest of sun rays — speaks first. "Please let us stay here. Even if it's just for a day, please just let us stay here for a while."

The parlour woman smiles softly at the group in front of her. "Of course, loves. Follow me. Quickly now."

The woman then leads them to a panel on the wall and pushes it to reveal a dark room — dark enough where the people behind her could not make out any of the room's details.

"This room," the parlour woman says, taking a step inside, "was used by my great grandmother and her second husband in the war of 1812, and it is still just as safe. Trust me."

The eldest girl nods and ushers the rest of her group into the room before she herself enters. She then faces the parlour woman. "Are you going to stay with us? Because if they see your hair, they'll kill you."

The parlour woman smirks. "I guess I'll just have to switch that up."

Not even a moment later, the parlour woman waves her hand around her head, making her hair turn to a beautiful, dandelion blonde.

The girl in front of her gapes at her head, but seems to think better of questioning it and heads into the room before her. The parlour woman then closes the wall section behind her and heads to the front of her store.

Just as she reaches the counter, a pair of German soldiers walk into her shop.

"Hello dears," she says in their language with a smile as fake as her hair colour. "How can I help you?"

The left soldier's lip curls. "We're looking for a group of Jews. There's one older girl and three younger kids. We saw them go in this direction. Have you seen them?"

The parlour woman feigns innocence. "I don't think so, but maybe you should check behind this building. They might have hidden there."

The right soldier, seemingly the nicer of the two, provides a curt nod and says, "Thank you, miss. Have a good day. Heil Hitler."

The parlour woman nods. "Heil Hitler."

Just as the soldiers leave, the parlour woman stops the movement of time. She then heads over to her great wall of weapons and removes her switchblades. She moves to a mirror near a salon chair and watches as her hair turns from a blonde as yellow as the dandelions of the yards around her to her natural, non-German hair colour.

She had some Nazis to scare.

x x x

She had found it.

The one thing that she didn't have to share with her sister.

Tora had found another way to get into the room that the kind woman had let them hide in. It was just big enough for her to fit through and it lead into what looked to be a shed attached to the woman's shop.

Tora climbed through the passage as quietly as she could, and once she was out into the shed she takes in her surroundings and smiles.

Though Ema, her sister, may look older, Tora is actually the eldest of the group. She is exactly one year older, but is around three inches shorter than her sister, which makes things, such as attempting at intimidating her sister into letting her lead the group, very difficult.