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let me know what you want us to bring.
    Love and snogs,
    Marina XXX

FIVE
    On Saturday mornings, Dave drove them across to Brixton. He would drop her off at the little theatre tucked away behind the
     town hall, then park the car. He would pick up fresh fruit and veg on Acre Lane, read the papers over coffee in a bar on Atlantic
     Road, then be back in time to pick her up when her class had finished. They would walk back to Brixton market together and
     mooch around for a bit if the weather was nice. Once in a while, they might buy cans of Red Stripe and takeaway jerk chicken
     from one of the market stalls, but more often than not they would have lunch in a little pizza place in one of the arches.
    That was what they did on a Saturday morning. What they had done for the best part of a year, since Marina had started the
     course. Both of them liked the routine.
    In the small dressing room they all shared, Marina took her time changing out of her tracksuit bottoms and trainers. She said
     goodbye to some of her classmates who were heading off for a drink together. They didn’t ask her to join them because they
     knew she had other plans, same as always. She said she’d see them next week. As it happened, she was hoping to grab a few
     minutes alone with Philip, theiracting teacher, before Dave came to collect her, so she was happy to let the others drift away.
    She leaned in close to the mirror, wondering why nobody ever did anything about the fact that two of the light bulbs around
     it had gone. She teased out a handful of hair and held it to the light. It was definitely time to get the tips dyed again.
    ‘You going to stick with red?’
    Marina saw Trish, one of her fellow students, move up behind her and lean down so that she could share the mirror.
    ‘Not sure.’
    ‘The red looks great,’ Trish said. ‘But you could always try something else. Purple, maybe?’
    ‘What about blonde?’
    ‘That would look amazing,’ Trish said. ‘You know, with your colouring and everything. Really original.’ She ran fingers through
     her own hair, then said that she needed to run. She kissed Marina on the cheek and left.
    Marina continued staring at herself. She wasn’t altogether sure about the idea and was even less convinced that Trish gave
     a stuff about whether her hair looked any good or not. They had done quite a few improvisations together in recent weeks and
     Marina was starting to think Trish was hogging things a bit on stage. That she was trying too hard to draw attention to herself,
     which was absolutely not what it was supposed to be about.
    She had toyed with saying something to Philip, then thought better of it. She did not want to seem whiney or competitive and
     besides, he would have seen exactly what was going on.
    Actually, blonde
might
be an interesting idea, she decided. Something different. She wondered if she could get an appointment for that afternoon,
     have it done in time for the big reunion dinner in the evening. She rooted in her bag for her mobile, flipped it open, then
     tossed it back in again. Even if the hairdresser could fit her in, a style and colour would cost the best part of a hundred
     pounds and that wasn’t fair, not when she and Dave were supposed to be saving up.
    Looking to get something better than two bedrooms in Forest Hill.
    Dave would tell her to go ahead and get it done, she knew that. He would tell her that it didn’t matter. He would say, ‘Actresses
     are supposed to get noticed, aren’t they, Maz?’ He would squeeze her hand and say, ‘Anything that makes you stand out is good,
     isn’t it?’
    In the mirror she saw herself smile, thinking about him. About
his
smile, and his voice; the faintest trace of a stammer when he was nervous or excited. Perhaps she would mention the hair
     thing casually, when they were walking to the market.
    ‘It might be fun for tonight, that’s all, but I know it’s ridiculously expensive …’
    See what he thought.
    Thinking