Angels With Green Faces

ANGELS WITH GREEN FACES Saturday evening, big night everywhere, Six teenage girls, hormones to spare, gather in the bedroom to prepare. Mirror, hairdryer, tongs for curling, giggles and squeals, music blaring, make-up, perfume, clothes for sharing. “Mum” came the call, upstairs I trot, enter the bedroom after a knock, step back in horror, what a shock, six green faces covered in face pack, half-dressed, excited, hair tied back, trying not to let the green mask crack. Red lipstick, have you got some there? and black tights, can we borrow a pair? Please could you blow-dry Sarah’s hair? I smile, comply with all their requests, observe the whole going-out process, masks removed, now dress to impress. Duties done, I return downstairs, shortly after, a sound in our ears, clumping of heels, in fact six pairs, enter for usual inspection format. Is this skirt too short? Do I look fat? Is this jacket okay with that? Of course, we never dared to state other than that they looked great. Teenage egos are easy to break. Front door slams, we sigh and smile, peace descends for a precious while, bottle opened, wine poured, chill. Ruth Mawdsley Nov 2019