I am sat in this chic little hairdressing salon round the back of Carnaby Street, having a mild panic attack as George, my mum’s darling hairdresser, chops hunks of my hair off, all the while tutting in faux prima-donna fashion. I know for a fact George is straight as a die, but I guess this little act draws in the ladies, and I can see from the expressions on the other faces that they love it. My mum has her nose stuck in her e-book as she sits under some weird lamps, waiting for her colour to take, oblivious to everything going on around her. I, on the other hand, have started emitting rather alarming squeaks each time another of my locks is butchered. Trust them, George and my mum said as they babbled on in some sort of pseudo-fashionista speak that I tuned out politely after the first couple of minutes. Okay, deep breaths. Eventually, I simply close my eyes in the hope that if I keep them closed long enough, this might turn out to be a dream. I finally open my eyes when I feel m

I wake disorientated. My last memory is of falling asleep on the couch, yet I am in a bed, tucked up into Taylor’s arms. I wriggle a little, trying to free myself so that I can go to the bathroom, my morning sickness making itself known. Taylor rolls over, freeing me, so I bolt to the bathroom just in time. As I glance around, I see everything is still where I left it, so I grab my toothbrush, grateful that I can freshen up my mouth. I pad back into the bedroom softly, not wanting to wake Taylor. It is still dark, so we have a little while before I have to head back to Brighton to start work. I look around the room that I know so well and realise something is bugging me; something is different and I just can’t put my finger on it. “It’s the bed. It’s new.” Taylor’s voice startles me, and I glance across to see him holding open the duvet for me to get back into bed. As I snuggle into his chest, I listen as Taylor starts to talk. “After that night I just couldn’t bear to sleep in her

My head is pounding from the effects of the sedative when I finally manage to open my eyes. Taylor’s chocolate brown eyes stare intensely at me, a frown furrowing his brow. I smile weakly at him, but even that small movement sends pain shooting through my skull, forcing a grimace across my face. Taylor silently hands me some cool water and a couple of painkillers, which I take gratefully before flopping onto my back with my eyes closed. “These should kick in soon and then hopefully you will feel a bit better. David said you would probably wake up with a killer headache…” Taylor trails off and I can tell he wants to discuss last night, but I know I am just not ready to confront today’s big issue. I don’t reply, so he places a light kiss on my cheek before adding, “I need to go out for a bit, but I’ll be back for lunch with your parents later.” “Okay,” I answer in a hoarse whisper. “I’ll see you a bit later, then.” I know I should ask where he is going, but knowing Taylor, if he want

I wake to a delicious aroma filling my senses. My stomach growls in response, and I scramble to find my phone to see what the time is. Eight o’clock. The craziness of the day has taken its toll, and after my mother left, I put my head down for a short nap. Well, that was three hours ago. I enter the kitchen to find Taylor frying steaks. My mouth waters as I take in creamed spinach on the stove, pink-peppercorn sauce bubbling gently and the crispy fries baking in the oven. Mmm, I hadn’t realised how hungry I was until this moment. I could eat a horse, or given the menu, a cow. “Yum, that smells good,” I say to Taylor as I wrap my arms around his waist and lean my head on his back. Slowly he turns in my embrace and plants a soft kiss on my nose. “I wondered when you were going to wake up. You were snoring like a train,” Taylor says playfully. I swat his arm in defence and pout. “I don’t snore!” I protest. Just then I notice a huge bunch of white roses on the side, and I raise my eye

My morning can’t go fast enough. I made all my calls first thing, and now I am just waiting for news. There is nothing more frustrating than being at the mercy of other people’s decisions. Andreas and Bea can sense my unease and have pretty much left me to my own devices, so I have been taking my frustrations out on some dough instead. I really need to get back to doing my morning yoga routine and find some Zen. I am just bringing out a fresh batch of rolls to the counter when Bea grabs me. “There is a girl here about the shop role. Do you have time to speak to her?” “Sure, let me just get out of this apron and I’ll be right out.” I quickly dash to the toilets to wipe away the flour dust that always seems to get everywhere. Walking out through to the front, I immediately spot the girl. Tall, blonde and very pretty. From the looks of her, she is older than me, so it makes me wonder why she wants a shop job. But hey, everyone has a reason and who am I to judge? I step forward and hold