Page 5

‘What’s all the commotion?’ my father asks as he strolls into the kitchen. ‘Oh, hello, Athena. Were we expecting you?’

Troy, Hebe and I owe our unusual names to Dad. A classics professor at Kent University with a hatred of any form of truncation, he deliberately chose names from ancient Greece that he felt nobody would be able to shorten. Even if you didn’t know he was an academic, the way he dresses would give him away. During the week, he wears a moth-eaten tweed jacket over his tan cords and shirt, with his only nod to casual dress at the weekends being that he loses the jacket.

‘Look at her, Martin,’ Mum commands fiercely, causing Dad to peer at me over the gold half-moon glasses that are almost permanently perched on the end of his nose.

‘What am I looking for, exactly?’ he asks after a moment or two. ‘Have you had your ears pierced? Is that it?’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ Mum scolds. ‘She had her ears pierced years ago. I’m talking about her hair!’

‘Umm,’ Dad says, sounding nonplussed. ‘Is it a different style? I’m afraid I don’t tend to notice these things. It looks very nice, Athena.’

‘It’s not the bloody style.’ Mum now sounds almost as cross with him as she is with me. ‘It’s the colour.’

‘Oh, yes,’ Dad agrees after studying me some more. ‘Silver hair is seen by some as a sign of wisdom and, of course, your namesake was the goddess of wisdom, among other things. Is that why you chose it?’

‘Of course she didn’t,’ Mum practically explodes. ‘She dyed it for some ridiculous fancy-dress competition, and now she’s stuck with it.’

‘Is that such a bad thing?’ Dad sounds genuinely confused. ‘It’s an unusual look, I admit, but by no means unpleasant.’ I notice that his hazel eyes are twinkling now. He’s generally a very mild-mannered man, but he does take perverse pleasure in winding Mum up from time to time, and this is clearly what he’s doing now. I’m not at all sure this is a good point to be poking the bear of my mother’s wrath, but on his head be it.

‘Have you forgotten,’ Mum says, practically grinding her teeth in frustration, ‘that our youngest daughter is getting married precisely one week from today?’

‘How could I?’ he replies, seemingly totally unperturbed by her rage. ‘There’s been talk of little else in this house for months.’

‘And Athena is her chief bridesmaid?’ Mum continues.

‘A job which I’m sure she will carry out most splendidly,’ Dad agrees calmly. Mum, on the other hand, looks like she might be about to have a seizure.

‘How can she, looking like that?’

‘I’m sorry, Jennifer,’ Dad says, injecting a surprisingly steely tone into his voice all of a sudden, ‘but I really don’t see the issue here. She’s dyed her hair, not turned into Medusa. Snakes instead of hair would be problematic, but the silver isn’t that different from her natural colour, is it? Actually, I think you look rather distinguished, Athena.’

This is obviously the final straw for Mum as she draws herself up to her full height and takes in a deep breath, ready to give us both barrels. Thankfully, before she has a chance to speak, we’re all distracted by the sound of the front door opening.

‘Only me!’ Hebe’s voice calls. ‘Is that Athena’s car in the driveway? I thought she was meeting us there.’

The tension in the room as we wait for Hebe to join us is extraordinary. Mum is breathing hard, Dad evidently feels that he’s delivered the final verdict and is unfurling the newspaper as he sits down at the kitchen table, and I’m aware that I’ve almost stopped breathing altogether. Everything hangs on Hebe’s reaction.

‘Hi, everyone,’ she says happily as she breezes into the room, planting a kiss on Mum’s cheek before bending down to do the same to Dad. ‘Sorry I’m late. I got a bit waylaid talking to John at the homeless shelter. He was asking after you, Athena, and wondering when you were coming in next. I think you’ve got a bit of a fan there.’ She leans in to kiss me, and I can feel myself tensing as I brace for the moment when she notices my hair. Typically, Mum jumps in before Hebe has a chance to speak.

‘Try not to overreact, darling,’ she says. Her tone makes it sound as if I’ve murdered someone and am sitting at the table with their severed head. ‘Athena has been very silly and selfish, but the floral headdress will cover the worst of it, and who knows? There’s still a week for it to hopefully wash out.’

Hebe is staring at me, tilting her head from side to side as she assesses me from different angles. Her face is giving nothing away, but she holds up her hand to stop Mum before she can say any more.

‘You look amazing, Athena,’ she breathes eventually. ‘I totally love it. Why have you never done this before?’

‘Really?’ I ask. ‘You don’t mind?’

‘Mind? Why should I mind? It makes you look really sophisticated and it’ll go brilliantly with your dress.’

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Mum visibly deflating. ‘Maybe you’re right, Hebe,’ she says hastily. ‘I’ll admit it was a bit of a shock when I first saw it, but now that you come to mention it, it does suit her, I suppose.’

‘Right,’ Dad announces, folding the newspaper again before tucking it under his arm and getting to his feet. ‘Crisis averted. I think my work here is done. I’ll leave you ladies to it. Are you planning to be back for lunch, or shall I grab something at the pub?’

‘We might want to make a bit of a day of it,’ Hebe tells him. ‘Is that all right?’

‘Fine with me. Have a lovely time.’ He disappears into the hallway, undoubtedly heading for his study.

‘Honestly, girls,’ Mum says softly once he’s gone, ‘I sometimes wonder how I’m still married to that man after all these years. I’m pretty sure he was deliberately goading me earlier.’