Swinging London was the first headline she noticed on a news stand as she walked along, together with a picture of the Beatles. She definitely had to make some sort of effort to be stylish. Dragging her gaze away, she saw a hairdressing salon and decided to make that her first stop.
A stylish young man with floppy hair and tight, flared trousers arranged Magenta’s long hair so that it hung loose down her back and was dressed fairly high at the top. Taking it up at the sides, he gave her a fringe so long it caught on her eyelashes.
Realising she could buy make-up at the salon, she chose some smoky eye-shadow, passing on the pale foundation with the option of white lips. She had to contend with the lady behind the counter giving her some strange looks as she battled with the unfamiliar pre-decimal currency. She finally managed to get it right and handed over what seemed to her like a very small amount of money before leaving the shop.
Now she had to hunt for an outfit to wear that evening. She had fun trying on all the vintage clothes and realising they were new. There was nothing subtle about sexiness in the sixties; she already knew that. Though she didn’t want Quinn to think her a frump, a couple of inches above the knee was as far as she was prepared to go. Rejecting a cobwebby, crotcheted dress, she chose a high-necked, soft turquoise silk with trumpet sleeves that flattered her figure without exposing too much of it.
‘You could go bra-less,’ the shop assistant informed her. ‘You’ve got the figure for it.’
What and show off her nipples? Give Quinn a handy barometer to go by? He hardly needed that sort of encouragement. ‘I’d prefer to wear a bra.’
‘What about this no-bra bra?’ the assistant suggested. ‘It’s almost sheer, but it does offer some protection…’ She weighed Magenta up. ‘If that’s what you want.’
‘It is pretty,’ Magenta agreed and she definitely wanted all the protection she could get.
‘You could try these hip-huggers to go with it. Or some matching bikini-pants in the same flesh-coloured lace?’
‘They’re very flimsy.’
‘That’s the idea.’
‘I’ll take them.’ She just wanted to get out of the shop now. The girl’s close scrutiny was beginning to make her feel uncomfortable.
‘Which one?’ The girl was holding up a pair of knickers in each hand.
‘Both.’
‘You’re sure they’re not too flimsy for you? I do have some heavy-gauge serge in the back.’
Was it so obvious that Magenta’s twenty-first-century lifestyle meant her choice of underwear depended on what washed well on a short cycle and lasted longest?
CHAPTER TEN
MAGENTA braved her freezing bathroom to take a bath and then dressed carefully. When the doorbell rang, her heart went crazy. If this was a dream she was certainly taking her time waking up, she thought as she hurried downstairs.
And now she didn’t want to wake up. Quinn looked amazing. Standing on her doorstep wearing a heavy overcoat over his suit, and with a long, silk scarf slung casually around his neck, he was unreasonably handsome—like a hero stepping out of a dream. In full sixties hero-about-town rig, he really was something else.
‘Ready to go?’
‘I am,’ she confirmed, trying not to notice the silver-grey Aston Martin DB5 parked behind Quinn on the road. She’d half expected to see a motorbike parked at the kerb.
It didn’t do to mix up dreams with reality, Magenta resolved, still gazing at Quinn’s fabulous car. ‘I can’t believe it’s in such immaculate condition,’ she murmured, hardly realising she was speaking out loud.
Quinn looked at her curiously. ‘Do you mean the car? Why wouldn’t it be?’
Of course, it must be brand new; she had almost betrayed herself. ‘I love it. You’re a very lucky man.’
‘And the harder I work the luckier I get,’ Quinn said dryly. ‘Have you forgotten something, Magenta?’ he added. ‘Your earrings?’
It wasn’t as if she felt naked without earrings, but as she touched her earlobes Magenta remembered that no self-respecting sixties woman would be seen without them—whether they were colossal hoops or feathers trimmed with bells, not to mention the all-important chandelier for the woman who considered herself a cut above the rest. ‘I’ll be right back,’ she said. ‘Come in out of the cold while you wait. Close the door.’ She flung this over her shoulder as she raced upstairs.
Neat pearl-drops in place, she returned to the hallway.
‘Perfect,’ Quinn approved, looking her up and down.
His assessment was a bit intrusive for a business meeting, Magenta thought, but she’d let it pass. Quinn escorted her to the car and, opening the door for her, saw her settled inside.