• Vol. 02
  • Chapter 04
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The gold and silver cylinders stood proud on the shelf, reflected mistily against the net on the damp window.
My cousin Fiona said dramatically,
'Our mothers will kill us!'
She had made the same remark before, during our Lenten Phase, as we denied ourselves many of our treats. Celebrity magazines once longingly viewed whilst chewing gum or downing copious cans of cola were out of bounds.
The Fair Was In Town and we had saved and planned for weeks to enjoy ourselves. Fiona had purloined the Cherry Charm lipstick from her mother's make-up drawer whilst I sneaked Pink Promise from mother's handbag. As we walked through the entrance the music pulsed and we heard one of the Fair boys call, 'Come on girls, have a spin on the Waltzer!' After this first ride we spent the evening twirling, whirling, screaming, laughing, spending and tasting the various stall foods. As I looked at the traces of Fiona's lipstick I remembered a line from the Thomas Hardy book we were reading in school.
'If Fancy's lips had been real cherries probably Dick's would have appeared deeply stained' We caught the 'bus home with the last of our pooled cash, jumped off and giggled like we were high on happiness. My cousin handed my empty purse and the lipstick to me,which she had carried in her bag and I crept indoors in the dark, whilst she went to her home next-door-but-one. I slipped quietly into the parental bedroom and slipped the tube into the handbag.

In the morning the explanations, recriminations and apologies to our parents resulted in us being grounded, of course. How could we have been so careless and mixed up the colours?