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To some people it's no big deal; to me it was.

It was a simple enough scenario: my hairdresser suggested that I coloured my hair to take advantage of a summer promotion that they were having. I had never previously given any thought to changing my hair colour. My instinct was to say no, but she was very persuasive and I walked out of the salon with rich red hair brushing my shoulders instead of my natural dark blonde shade. Afterwards, I walked down the street, pausing to look at my reflection in various shop windows, trying to convince myself that I had done the right thing. It wasn't me, I determined. I walked on, wishing that I had parked my car closer.

By the time I had reached my car I had decided that I would ring the salon tomorrow to make an appointment to get it changed back to my natural colour as soon as possible. I was kicking myself for having given in to the sales pitch and even started to think about going to another salon to have the remedial work done. After all, why should the usual salon benefit after what they had done to me.

The drive home was a blur and it was only after sitting down for a while with a glass of white wine that I started to calm down. I heard keys in the door. Rustling in the hall. The living room door opened.

'I'm sorry, I was looking for Kerry' Paul said after a brief pause.

'Very funny' I said, the tone of my voice instantly informing him that he had said the wrong thing. He looked bashful and came to give me a hug.

'Not what you expected?' he said eventually.

'A moment of weakness' I said.

'So you don't like it then?'

'You could say that' I replied tartly.

'And what if I say that I do?'

'Seriously?' I queried.

'Seriously' he confirmed.

I looked at him.

'Why?' was all that I could think to ask him.

'It suits you for a start' he said.

'And?'

'It's something different.'

'So you were bored with me as a blonde?' I asked, ready for a fight.

He had been around too long to fall for it and headed off the impending typhoon by offering to take me out for dinner. That always worked! The neutral territory also gave me a chance to get everything in perspective. I had changed my hair colour. My boyfriend appeared to genuinely like it. I needed to calm down a little.

Paul's sentiments were echoed at work the following day. The new me met with universal approval and it certainly seemed genuine. I still wasn't completely sure about the colour, but I was sure that I liked the attention

As my consternation at the change of colour diminished over the next few weeks, my irritation at the gradual re-appearance of my natural-coloured roots increased.

'What am I going to do?' I whined at Paul in a way that even I found annoying. I apologised straight away.

He smiled.

'Get it done again' was his simple solution. I raised my eyebrows at him.

'What else are you going to do?' he asked. He was right.

'I don't think that I like the red though' I countered, eager to raise some sort of objection.

'Go for something else' was his equally simple reply.

'What?'

'I don't know, black or something' he replied.

'Black or something?'

'Why not? It's no big deal' he asked.

'No big deal?' I mimicked, now conscious that I was parroting his remarks.

'You've got over the first hurdle by having it coloured last time. You survived that and no doubt you'll survive this time too' he said with an infuriating smile.

I nodded gently.

'It was a big deal to me' I said defiantly.

'I know it was, but I don't know why we're arguing about it now.'

'We're not arguing' I said.

'Yes we are' he said, his smile getting wider.

He had drawn me into that. 'I hate you' I said playfully and aimed a love slap at him. I sat down on the arm chair and looked out of the window for a moment.

'So "black or something", that's as constructive as you're going to be, is it?'

'I didn't realise that I had a say' he replied.

'Of course you have a say' I said.

It was his turn to be quiet for a moment.

'Such power!' he exclaimed.

'Well?' I asked, not sure why I was so irritable. He was only trying to be helpful after all.

'Let's just go into town and get it done somewhere' he said.

'It doesn't work like that, you have to make an appointment to get it coloured, you can't just walk in off the street and expect them to have time to do it there and then.'

'There's walk-in places surely' he said.

'That's for cuts, not for colours, dopey' I replied, a little harsher than I intended.

He paused.

'Get it cut then' he replied with that uncomplicated logic of his.

'I only want it coloured' I replied.

'You'd look good with shorter hair' he said.

'Wow, that must be the first positive observation you've made since I don't remember when' I chided.

'Well, excuse me' he said with that sarcastic tone that he adopted with his football mates in the pub.

He knew what was coming.

'So you don't like me with long hair?' I said.

He had anticipated the question and I felt stupid for lowering myself to it.

'Of course I like you with long hair. But what's wrong with short hair?'

'Nothing' I said, appreciating that he had manoeuvred me into that reply.

'That's settled then. We'll get it cut' he said.

This had gone on long enough.

'This is stupid. Do you want a cup of tea?' I asked.

He nodded, jubilantly.

I went into the kitchen, grateful for the chance to disrupt the rhythm of that exchange. When I went back into the lounge, he had gone. I sat with my tea and pondered. I hated arguing with him, although I wasn't entirely sure how serious he had really been just then.

I called upstairs to him that his tea was ready and a minute or so later he was back in the room. He tousled my hair as he walked past.

'Would you like me to cut my hair' I asked quietly.

'It's up to you' he replied.

'Let's say it's up to you' I countered.

'Well, it would be different' he replied.

'Be serious for a minute. Do you want me to cut my hair' I pressed. He looked at me.

'Yes' he replied.

I nodded.

'Since when?' I asked.

'Since a few minutes ago' he replied.

'Why?'

'I liked when you came home with red hair, so I just thought that I would like it if you came home looking completely different.'

'"Like" as in "turned on?' I asked.

He nodded.

'You're not getting off that easily. It turned you on?'

'Yes, it turned me on' he replied slowly.

'And it would turn you on if I cut my hair?'

'Yes' he replied. I looked intently at him, letting him know that he needed to be a bit more forthcoming than that.

'Yes, it would turn me on if you cut your hair' he said eventually.

'Well, well' I said, taking a long drink of my tea.

He looked at me a little sheepishly.

'So what are we going to do about it?' he asked.

'We're going shopping and you're going to buy me whatever I want, that's what we're going to do'.

We left the dishes and got in the car. We drove in silence, both of us thinking about our conversation. I was surprised about what Paul had said, about him wanting me to cut my hair, about him finding the prospect of me with short hair a turn on. I was thinking back to my reaction when I came out of the salon with dyed hair for the first time. That could have been rectified with a little money and time. Getting my hair cut was totally different. But it would be for Paul. Something that he wanted me to do. Or was it? He seemed to have stumbled on the idea during that conversation, it didn't appear to be something that he had given much thought to.

'So how long had you really been thinking about me with short hair?' I asked, breaking the silence as we got to the outskirts of town.

He looked at me briefly.

'I told you. When you came home looking different, that triggered something, but it was only talking to you this morning that I realised what it was' he replied.

'So you haven't been picturing me with short hair the past few weeks?'

'Not as such' he replied.

'And how do you picture me now?'

'I can't because I've got to get out of the car in a minute and I don't want to get arrested!' he said with a leer.

'Wow!' I said.

We drove into the car park in silence. Paul found a space and turned the engine off.

'So how are we going to do this?' I asked.

'You don't have to' he said.

'I want to' I said.

'No you don't' he replied.

'Look Paul. I'm offering. If you want me to go in somewhere, I will. I want to do it for you.'

He reached forward and pecked me on the cheek.

'You're going to have to do better than that when we get home' I said, smiling.

He took my hand as we walked out of the car park and into the street.

'Wouldn't you rather go to your usual place?' he asked.

'I'll have changed my mind by the time I can get an appointment' I replied.

'I don't know where to go, what you want to have done' he said.

'I'll go wherever you want. You can tell them what you want them to do. Simple as that' I said.

'But what if you don't like it?'

'For God's sake, Paul. If you want me to have my hair cut, you need to make a bit of an effort' I snapped nervously.

We walked in silence through the streets on the outskirts of town. The pressure of his hand on mine changed suddenly. He squeezed briefly.

I looked at him. He looked over my shoulder. I turned to follow his gaze. I looked up at the sign above the window.

"The Hair Company" it said. I moved my gaze down to the window. The name was repeated and the legend "No appointments necessary" was written underneath.

'Here?' I queried.

'As good a place as any' he replied.

I nodded my agreement and headed for the door.

We were greeted by a receptionist who had the loveliest smile I had seen in a while.

'What can we do for you?' she asked.

'Have you got someone free at the moment?' I asked.

'I can take you' she replied, looking at Paul briefly, before looking back at me.

'What are we doing today' she asked as she made an initial assessment of her new client.

'We're pandering to his whim' I replied, looking across to Paul. It was only then that I realised how much I had embarrassed him.

'I see, and what might that be?' she asked.

'Whatever he wants' I replied.

She nodded, a little bemused.

'Tell the lady what you want Paul' I urged.

He looked flustered.

'A flat top' he said eventually, the stress of the moment evident in his voice.

'I'll take your wife first, if that's ok' the receptionist cum stylist said.

'That's what I want her to have' he said quietly.

'A flat-top?' the girl queried.

He nodded. I looked sharply round at him.

'A flat-top?' I said, my surprise clear for everyone to see.

'You did say that it was my choice' he said defensively.

'Yes, I did, but I didn't think that that was what you had in mind' I replied.

'So you know what a flat-top is?' the stylist asked me.

I knew only too well. My brother used to have them when we were young. I nodded.

There was an awkward silence. We looked at each other. Images from my childhood flooded into my head.

'Would you two like me to leave you to talk it over for a moment?' The stylist asked. I looked at Paul. He looked at me; like a naughty schoolboy. The stylist took a couple of steps back.

'Are you sure this is what you want?' I asked him quietly, trying my best to keep my voice even.

'I'm sorry, forget it, let's go' he said with barely a pause between each comment.

I looked at him, actually feeling a little sorry for him. I had tempted something out of him, something that must have been lurking in there unseen and unknown and now here I was snapping the jaws of a trap shut around it. I think he was almost as surprised as me at what he had asked me to do and here he was wondering how he could force it back into the darkness and undo what had just happened.

'I'll see you back at the car in an hour' I said, reaching up to touch his cheek with the back of my fingers.

'But...' he said.

'I'll see you in an hour' I said a little more firmly.

He appeared grateful for my permission to leave the scene of the crime and turned without a word or acknowledgement to the stylist. He closed the door behind him and I watched through the window as he trudged away. I turned back towards the stylist who was probably more embarrassed than Paul.

'I'm sorry about that, it's a long story' I said.

'It's no problem. Have a think about what you want to do and give me a ring. I'll give you one of my cards' she said and started to move towards the counter.

'No time like the present' I said.

She stopped and looked at me intently.

'Are you sure?'

I nodded.

'How about a cup of coffee?' she asked.

'Something stronger would probably be better, but I'll take a coffee, black, no sugar, please' I said.

'If you'd like to come through' she said and walked through the ornamental arch into the main salon.

'I'm Alison, by the way' she said as she walked.

'Kerry' I uttered in reply.

I followed her, my mind buzzing with thoughts about Paul, about what he'd asked me to do, why he'd asked me to do it. Was there more behind it? Was he revealing a side that had always been there and was just waiting for an opportunity to come out into the open? How should I deal with it? Should I confront him or just go with the flow?

'Take a seat here' the stylist said, indicating a chair at the end of the salon. 'I'll just get the coffee.'

I sat down and looked at myself in the mirror. My dyed red hair was brushing my shoulders. My dark blonde roots were there for all to see. I reached behind my head and pulled my hair back into a pony tail, trying to assess how I would look without the hair framing my face. It had been ages since I had worn my hair up in public. It wasn't that it didn't suit me, I just never really thought about presenting myself to the world in a way that it didn't expect. So, I mused, is 35 too old for long hair? Should I have been thinking about a shorter cut anyway? I thought back to my reaction to getting my hair dyed. Just sitting in that chair told me that I had come a long way since then. It had pushed at a door and allowed me to peek in. Sitting here had opened it wide. It was too late to think about pulling it shut, that time had gone and I had crossed the threshold, with a shove in the back from Paul. The sound of coffee cups interrupted my search for more metaphors.

'There you go, Kerry' she said, putting a cup on the ledge in front of me.

'Thanks' I said.

'So, that was a bit of a surprise for you' she said.

'Just a bit' I replied and gave her a quick summary of what had led Paul and I to the salon.

'Wow' she said with a lovely smile when I had finished.

'You could say that' I replied.

'What are we going to do then?' she asked.

'I suppose I'm going to turn into my brother' I said with a nervous laugh.

'What do you want to do about the colour?' she asked, scrunching the hair at the crown of my head.

'I'm open to suggestions' I said. Considering what I was about to do, the colour was irrelevant.

'I can cut it first and you can have a think about the colour, if you like' she said.

'That sounds great' I said, surprised at how calm I was feeling now.

Alison wrapped a gown around me and combed my hair through. I was so used to having my hair washed as a prelude to a haircut that I wasn't prepared for Alison to launch into questions about style as soon as the gown was fastened.

'Okay, are you serious about a flat-top?' she asked. I nodded my reply.

'Just paying lip-service to the idea or serious?' she probed.

'If I'm going to do it, I may as well do it properly' I replied, images of my brother coming into my mind. I wondered what he would think if he could see me here now.

She reached forward and unhooked a set of electric clippers from their home underneath the counter. The point of no return was approaching.

'I'll take it in stages and that way you can stop when you want' she said kindly.

'I think I'd rather just go for it' I replied.

'Really?'

'How bad can it be?' I said a little nervously.

'How short do you want to go around the sides?' she asked.

I paused. It isn't me who wants to do this, I thought. I don't know what the picture in Paul's head looks like. I pictured my brother again.

'All the way' I said.

'All the way? Shaved?'

'I'll just have to hope that's what he wants' I replied.

'You could always call him' she said.

'That would spoil the surprise for him. Let's just do it' I said with more resolve than I would have given myself credit for.

There was a humming sound followed by a gasp. The humming came from the clippers; the gasp came from me as they touched my temple and a tress of hair fell away to reveal bare skin. Alison eased the clippers around the contour of my ear.

'Not what you expected?' she remarked.

'Not at all, it's just that talking about it and having it done are two different things!' I replied, searching desperately for my calm voice again. I actually admired her skill in shaving the hair at my scalp, but then in a continuation of the same movement, deftly severing the length of the hair above it that would ordinarily have fallen down to conceal the shorn area. It seemed to be a most efficient technique for roughing out the basic outline of her canvas. The hair on the right-hand side of my head was no longer brushing my shoulder. My ear was exposed, marooned in an expanse of bare skin. It seemed to be taunting me, revelling in its new-found prominence. The contrast with the as yet untouched left-hand side was dramatic, but short-lived as Alison made her first pass around the back and then around my left ear. I looked comical, a mushroom-ish cap of hair rising from nothing, ears sticking out. My curiosity was noticed and the clippers fell silent.

'I wouldn't normally do a flat-top like this. I just thought it might be best to go the "short, sharp, shock" route in the circumstances' Alison said.

'Or the "VERY short, sharp shock route" I corrected.

She smiled and turned the clippers on again. For the next few minutes I was too pre-occupied by her skill in wielding the clippers to dwell on what they were actually doing to me. From the raggedness that she had created at the outset emerged something that was sharp and sleek. Progressively longer stubble emerged from the baldness around my ears before becoming what could actually be described as hair nearer to the top of my head. There the hair was probably little more than an inch long, mostly blonde, but tipped with a reddish hue.

Alison stood to one side and fiddled with the clippers.

'As you've been so brave so far, I think we can deal with your re-growth problem the quick way, don't you think?' she said, holding up the clippers to make her thinking clear to me.

'You may as well' I said, by that point already aware that there was little that she could do that would heighten the surprise for those who knew me.

She swapped the attachment on the clippers for another from her armoury and then without a pause they were at my forehead. The hair in their wake was probably half an inch long. There was certainly no question of root re-growth now since what had been my roots was now the full extent of the hair on my head. Alison shaped, sculpted and blended what was left of my hair into a perfect flat-top.

The clippers fell silent and Alison swapped them for a brush to get the bulk of the strays off me. She trailed her hand behind the bristles, presumably checking that she hadn't missed anything. Looking at myself in the mirror, I considered that unlikely!

'Stunned silence, is that it?' Alison asked with a smile.

I nodded.

'Is that what you had in mind?'

I put my fingers to the side of my head and let them play over the bald skin, moving them up slowly to appreciate the changing texture. Smooth giving way to velvet with a progressively longer pile. The image of myself in the mirror would take some getting used to; the sensation under my fingertips wouldn't. I loved it.

'It's probably shorter on the top than my brother used to have, but I didn't give you a lot of guidance, did I?'

'So what do you think?'

'Considering that less than an hour ago I had no idea what Paul wanted me to do with my hair and now here I am practically bald, I actually quite like it. There's no way that I would ever have had my hair cut above my collar if left to my own devices.'

She led me over to the basin area and spent much longer shampooing me than I would have thought possible given the amount of hair that was actually left on my head. It was probably better classed as a scalp massage, although whatever you called it, it was a very pleasurable experience. She led me back to the styling station to dry me off and to make one last check of her work.

'You've got the face for short hair you know, lovely eyes. You might not want to go this short again, but you should think about keeping it pretty short. It really suits you' Alison said.

'Thank you' I said, quietly pleased and also very relieved.

'I just hope that man of yours appreciates what you've done for him' she said.

'He'll be okay, I'm sure. It's just that this probably didn't work out quite the way that he had thought' I replied.

'You can say that again!' Alison remarked.

I smiled.

'Are you going to stay natural or do you want me to colour it for you?' she asked.

In all the emotion of the morning so far, I had completely forgotten about the original purpose of this visit.

'I think that I had better be getting back to him really' I said, looking at my reflection once more.

'Next time, maybe?' she said.

'Sounds good' I confirmed, confident in my own mind that Alison had just got herself a new regular.

We made more small talk as I walked back out to reception with her and paid. She seemed pleased as I asked her to book me in again for two weeks later. It remained to be seen what that visit would be for, but for the meantime, the priority was to go and present myself to Paul. I left the salon with a final compliment and Alison's good wishes.

I walked up the street, wondering what Paul would say. Nervous and excited at the same time. My heels echoed up the steps in the car park and as I opened the door onto the fourth floor, I looked towards our car. I could see Paul's outline. The butterflies in my stomach became more active. I could see him move slowly in response to hearing someone approach the car. I opened the door.

'I thought you might have given up on me' I said as I got in. I leant over and kissed his cheek, giving his thigh a comforting squeeze as I did so.

He turned to look at me, drawing his head further back to better take in what he saw.

'I'm sorry, I didn't mean it to go like that' he said quietly.

'I know you didn't' I said. 'Now what do you think? Is it what you wanted?'

He was silent for a moment.

'You look beautiful' he said.

And that is as much of that day that I want to share for now. The rest is special and very, very private. The only thing that I can say is that it was very much a new beginning for both of us.

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