A chapter from my new upcoming young adult novel.
Then Saturday suddenly came. The hours up till then seemed to telescope away from Dante, in the wrong direction. So much so, he volunteered to clean his mum’s car and then all the neighbours’ cars for a small amount of cash, just to fill in the time. Once he’d done that he picked the French beans from his mother’s allotment and dug up her new potatoes. Looking at his watch, he fond it was still only 9.15 so he filled in the rest of the time topping and tailing and blanching those beans that he had not put aside for supper to put in the freezer. All of this eventually took him to 9.45 and he figured that if he walked extra slowly he could get to Rosie’s salon pretty much on time.
He found himself semi-skipping/running and then deliberately slowing down, so eager was he to get to his destination. He kind of marched on the spot every time he got to a pedestrian crossing and waited for the lights to change twice before sauntering over the road and still he got there with minutes to spare.
When he turned into the alley he found that there was a babble of noise coming from the other end of it and on reaching it he saw why. There was a gaggle of animated young mums with their babies in buggies, all sitting chatting at tables outside the shop. The mums all had delicious looking mugs of coffee, chocolate and tea, the babies all had juice in one form of cup or other – bottles, beakers, sippy cups.
He stepped onto the threshold and two glass doors slid open to reveal an interior that was all wood and chrome. Beautiful spalded oak seemed to snake across the floorboards to a coffee bar on the far side of the room, with bar stools along its length. Any handrails and chairs were made to match the floor, with huge, enveloping cushions on them. The chrome just finished off every edge of furniture or piece of hairdressing tool. Looking up at the ceiling, it was as if Dante were looking at an upturned boat – all exposed beams and ribs, intricately interwoven to create a skeletal wooden frame. And holding up this miracle of a ceiling was the most wondrous feature of all: the central, main supporting column was a gigantic aquarium. From top to bottom there were beautiful jewel-like fishes swimming through coral and sunken wreckage that sat on tiny glass shelves that formed part of the walls of the pillar’s interior. It was an exquisitely wrought piece of furniture that gave the whole room a quality of light and movement normally lacking from such a place and the effect was stunning. Every chair in the salon had a view of the pillar and he noticed that most clients just seemed to sit there in silence, gazing at the aquarium’s reflection in the mirrors infront of them, mesmerised. Consequently, there was no babble of senseless conversation, instead a girl at the end of the coffee bar was playing some beautiful classical guitar music – Rodrigo or Villa Lobos, he thought.
He threw himself into the nearest chair and breathed in. He instantly noticed that the other feature of salons that he loathed with a passion was absent. There were none of the pungent smells he normally associated with these places, the lingering and to him overpowering smell of soap and perfume. Looking closer at the ceiling he noticed that there were huge extraction fans at either side of the roof and wooden fans that beat clean air around the room. The only wonderful smell that was persistent and powerful was the aroma of freshly brewed coffee from the bar at the end of the salon.
The baristas at the coffee bar, two of them, identical twins, by the look of it, created a seemingly endless production line of the amazing concoctions he had seen the mums drinking outside. You could smell the cinnamon and ginger at thirty paces. And beyond them, squeezed into a small circle of space, a young man in a jester’s costume was teaching the 7-16s to juggle. It was utter magic! He could see why Rosie had said it would weave its spell on him.
He leaned back in a chair, watching the clown fish wriggling through the sea anemone and the angel fish delicately bobbing in and out of the sea grass in the tank, when a voice from somewhere behind his right shoulder said, “Hi Dante, cool, huh?”
Rosie had come out of a small internal room, which Dante had previously overlooked, clutching a large box of curlers under one arm. “I’ll be with you in a mo, I just have to put these in Mrs McElderry’s hair and pop her under a dryer….if you fancy a coffee or something, just ask Claire or Charlie to make you one. Doesn’t matter which one you ask, they’ll both answer to either name since few of us can tell them apart!” she said grinning.
Dante found himself grinning back “I think I’ll do that, thanks.” He walked over to the coffee bar and the twin nearest to him said, I think I peg you for a hot chocolate guy, yes?” He nodded and before he could say anything further, she went on, “And all the added extras?” And when he nodded a second time, she smiled and said, “For what it’s worth, I’d just go with the flow and let her do her thing. She knows what she’s doing as you can tell from this place!”, and she waved her arm around to indicate the décor of the salon.
A few minutes later he found himself sipping the most delicious hot chocolate he’d ever tasted. It was clearly made with 75% cocoa solids that had been melted and added to a heady mix of cream and warm milk. There was a swirl of whipped cream with the faintest frosting of ginger, cinnamon and cocoa, a large milk flake, six maltesers and a handful of red and green M and Ms. He went at it with gusto and when he got to the bottom of the mug, he found little knobs of chocolate, that hadn’t quite melted, which he scooped up with his index finger.
Dante was seated at a high stool at the coffee bar and was lost in reverie and savouring the flavour of his mug of chocolate when he felt a tap on his shoulder and a familiar voice in his ear, ”I’m ready for you now.”
He swung round and found Rosie grinning at him, with a towel wrapped around her neck and a scissor belt round her waist. “You ready for me?” she asked.
He nodded and followed her obediently to a chair that she led him to, with a commanding view of the whole salon. “Now, I have a theory, Dante,” Rosie said, “It’s such a long time since you last had your hair cut, that it’s going to come as a bit of a shock to you to see it all go… so I intend to blindfold you whilst I am cutting.”
He looked at her in astonishment. “What?!” he exclaimed.
“Well, kind of,” she responded. “We are going to put these sunglasses on you, which I’ve tinkered with, so you can’t see anything through them, and you are going to give me carte blanche to do what’s necessary….”
Dante gulped. “You can do anything?” he said.
“Pretty much” she smiled at him. “But there’s no pressure. If you don’t want me to cut your hair today, then come back when you are ready to take the plunge!”
“But what if I don’t like it?” he asked.
“Trust me, you will! But if you don’t, judging by how much you have got of it now, it won’t take long to grow out any way!”
Dante thought about this and about how he had somehow trusted this woman implicitly since their very first meeting, closed his eyes, took a deep breath and mumbled, ”OK, do your worst!”
“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that!” Rosie chuckled, “Was that a carte blanche do what you’ve gotta?”
“Yes!” Dante hissed. ”But don’t push your luck!”
”OK,” Rosie said, now businesslike, ”Put these on.” And she handed him a pair of large aviator sunglasses that had pieces of black duct tape stuck over the lenses. “Now sit back, relax, as much as you can, listen to Amelia playing her guitar, and let me work my magic.”
Nervous at first, he sat slightly forward, on the edge of his seat, but soon found himself lounging back into the squidgy pillow and losing himself in the beautifully cadenced guitar music. It was the lovely lyrical slow movement and he found himself almost drifting off to sleep…
He realised with a start that the click of the scissors was rhythmical and soothing and the faint tug of the razor reassuring. Straightening up he berated himself. What was he thinking? How could he have allowed himself to be talked into this? He was beginning to feel a cold breeze on his neck – not a good sign, because that meant she had chopped all his hide-in hair off! “Aren’t you going a little far?” he ventured.
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained!” Rosie responded jauntily. And then, as if sensing his unease, she said quietly, ”I’m nearly done. Just hold still for a second whilst I put the finishing touches to my masterpiece!” As if the air had been quietly let out of him, Dante found himself relaxing back into the cushion again. Rosie made a few last adjustments then said with satisfaction, “You’re done! Want to take a peek?”
He gulped hard, and then nodded very slowly. “I think so,” he said.
“OK,” Rosie said. “Now, this will come as quite a shock to you. It is radically different. It is much shorter, it’s a much cleaner cut and fashionable, but it looks seriously cool!” And then she breathed in and took his glasses off, blocking the mirror beyond, “And I’ve coaxed a stunner out from under all that hair –you really are a lady killer!”
Stepping to one side, she revealed her handiwork with a flourish. He stared at himself, utterly fascinated. Someone he did not recognise stared back at him from the mirror. His reflection revealed a young man with quite an oval face but with a square, determined jaw. The dimple in his right cheek was very pronounced and he had a slight indentation in his chin too that he suspected might become more prominent when he got angry or stressed.
Dante had always thought his eyes were his best feature but actually, they were remarkable. The blue of the brightest sapphire or the bluest volcanic pool, they were wide and slightly almond shaped and big, and anyone observing them felt as if they could easily lose themselves in them. He smiled broadly at his reflection and immediately noticed his chipped tooth. He smiled again because it gave him a slightly piratical air…
It was then that he really noticed what Rosie had done with his hair. I mean, yes, he’d noticed there was a fraction on his head compared to what he’d been used to but it was how she’d achieved this shorn Dante… She had cut the hair on a slight bias so it was really contemporary and yet classic at the same time. No flouncy fringe a la Hugh Grant, and yet he did have a fringe and despite his misgivings, it really suited him. He looked sharp, slick, complete…
“So what’s the verdict?” Rosie ventured.
“Bloody marvellous.”
Caro Field Author 