I couldn't help but glance down, seeing the small brown tips grow tight. "You think?" I know I was being rude but for the life of me, I couldn't find ...t in me to care. "Can we just get on with this?" Yeah, sure," the man said, pulling down on his white jacket.That's when I saw his name. Pierre Lefute. If he was French, then I was a guy."Turn your head," he ordered, and I did as he said, feeling his fingers in my hair. He pulled out the rubber band I'd used to keep my thick, sable colored hair. This was the fourth time I'd dreamt the dream. The first occasion hadbeen a week after the Happiest Day Spring Wedding Fair in Sunderland,back in May. Up until then I had never taken any interest in my wife'swedding dress business, Bridie's Bridal Boutique. But the Sunderlandshow had changed all that, in the most bizarre way imaginable.The next time I'd had the dream was a month later, just after the twoday wedding fair in Kingston-upon-Hull. The third time had been a fewdays after the show in. More

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