Chapter 2

Marion lay back in the clinic chair, her head supported by the back-rest with a band around her head keeping her hair out of the way. Sylvie had cleansed Marion's face with an astringent lotion and was gently massaging moisturiser into her skin.

"You have really good bone structure." She told Marion who smiled.

"Thank you. I have to thank my mother for that."

"You're lucky. My mother died when I was two years old, so I really never knew her."

"My mother is still alive," replied Marion, "but I rarely see her. Even when growing up I didn't see her that often."

"Why was that?"

"She was a very busy lady. Lots of committee meetings and functions to attend, taking tea with other ladies in the same circles and then more functions with my father. I saw her fleetingly as she swept out of the house in glamorous evening or Cocktail dresses. She would stay in bed until noon, so I wouldn't see her until the evening the next day as she swept out of the house again in another glamorous evening dress, I don't think I ever saw her in ordinary clothes. Then when I was sixteen I was sent away to Finishing School."

"Not one of those terrible places in Switzerland?"

"No. It was in Esher. It was only ten miles from home but Mummy insisted I boarded. They taught me how to address any of the nobility, how to curtsey, how to walk properly, the right way for a lady to get into and out of a car and lots of other things even down to the right way to chastise the House Parlour Maid." Marion was laughing as she told Sylvie this. "As if anyone has a House Parlour Maid these days!" Sylvie was giggling as well.

"So how did you meet your husband?"

"My parents invited him for Dinner one evening; this was after I had been finished. I was dressed up for the occasion and Mummy introduced me to Charles. I was under no illusions that they had decided that I should marry him. He needed a wife who was 'right' and Mummy and Daddy thought it a good match."

"What does he do?"

"He's a Civil Servant. A sort of Mandarin in waiting. He's got the right qualifications, Harrow, Oxford. One of those marked out for higher things." Marion told her dryly.

"Oh! A Knighthood in the pocket and a gold-plated pension?"

"That's it. And I shall be Lady Urquhart one day."

"You don't sound too enthusiastic about that."

"It's the prize for putting up with an unadventurous life."

Sylvie was preparing for the make-up. She showed Marion various colours of lipstick, who predictably wanted a pale rose, the colour she normally wore. Sylvie disagreed.

"No, I think this deeper red would do well. It's more dramatic and invites a kiss." Marion was about to argue when Sylvie interrupted. "Trust me on this."

"Oh alright." Marion subsided. The base was smoothed in, then blusher for the cheeks fading it down from the cheekbones. Sylvie then applied Mascara and brushed Marion's lashes with a curved brush darkening them as she did so. Finally the lips. She outlined them first, creating a fuller profile then painted in with the deep red lipstick. Finally she glossed them. She turned the chair away from the mirror and took off the band allowing Marion to fluff out her hair.

"Right." She announced. "Are you ready for this?" Marion nodded.

Sylvie turned the chair back. There was silence as Marion stared at her reflection. Staring back was the face from a glossy fashion magazine.

"That's not me." She spluttered. Sylvie agreed.

"No, it's not you. I think that person is ... Marianne, yes Marianne. A beautiful lady of a certain age. Confident in herself, willing to take on the world and to take pleasure when she chooses as she chooses." Marion looked askance at her new friend.

"Are you sure about that? I doubt that I could take on the world." Sylvie leaned in and encouraged her.

"It's the confidence you need." She stood up. "Shall we go for some lunch?"

"That would be nice. Where?"

"There's a little Bistro just round the corner. They have a nice menu." She took a step back and surveyed Marion. "Hmm. I think we need to find you a pretty frock. That skirt, blouse and jacket are very Marion but not quite Marianne. Come with me."

Marion's clothes were of the best quality and could be described as timeless insomuch that they wouldn't be out of place in the nineteen-thirties, or forties, or even the fifties. Without waiting for an answer Sylvie strode off towards the front of the premises. Marion followed at a run, protesting as she did so that she didn't need a new frock. She arrived in the showroom to see Sylvie holding a very pretty frock. If it wasn't actually made of Silk it looked very close.

"This is a ten; you look about a ten in size. Try it on."

"Sylvie, I can't."

"Don't be silly. It's not as if you have to buy it." She carried it through to the changing room followed by Marion. "Come on. Slip out of those things." Marion took off her jacket and slowly started to unbutton her blouse expecting Sylvie to leave. Sylvie didn't. Shrugging her shoulders Marion took off her blouse and skirt, suddenly ashamed of her utilitarian underwear and pantyhose. Sylvie held out the dress and Marion stepped into it. She looked into the floor length mirror and turned this way and that. It was without doubt a very nice frock; it had a camouflage type of pattern in black, cream and orange. The material clung lovingly to her body.

She turned to Sylvie, who had a worried look.

"It's lovely."

"Yes." replied Sylvie. "But we're not quite there." She thought for a moment then her face lightened. "The bra! The bra's got to go." Now Marion was really worried.

"I can't go without a bra."

"No. Marion wouldn't, but Marianne would. Come on just slip the top down and we'll get rid of it." The top of the dress was unzipped before Marion could protest, the fabric slipped down and Sylvie unclasped the catch of the bra. Marion held the cups in place as she tried to find the words to argue. Sylvie gave her no option, she gently but firmly pried Marion's hands away and the bra followed. Marion's blushes did not show through her newly made up face. "Nice!" Said Sylvie. "Very pretty." She pulled the dress back into place and zipped it. The strange sensation of her breasts unfettered against the soft material brought another blush to her face as her nipples reacted to the teasing of the silk. Blood flowed in and they burgeoned.