‘Could you take my clients today, Zara?’ My colleague Amy asked me over the phone. I was in the kitchen, getting breakfast. I glanced outside to check the weather – low dark clouds had gathered.
‘I won’t be coming in. I’m ill – I’ve got a bad headache, a sore throat and I feel a bit feverish.’
‘It sounds like flu. Poor you. Of course I’ll take your clients.’ I knew that Amy would cover for me, if I was ill. Luckily, I’d had two cancellations via text.
‘I have Mrs Pickles at nine thirty and Julia Kemp at two,’ she went on.
I gulped. ‘Right. Well, you take care of yourself. Stick the telly on, drink plenty and rest up. See you soon. Bye!’ I ended the call with a sense of dread. Most of our clients at our hairdressing salon, A Cut Above were lovely, apart from super-fussy sixty-something Mrs Pickles an astute, sleek businesswoman Julia Kemp. They were both extremely awkward and – blast! I’d run out of milk. That meant no tea for me this morning. I’d grab a drink from the refreshments van instead. It was stationed near our salon.
There was an attractive, brown-eyed, trim, muscly, cheery guy around my own age (early forties) who worked there. He also had an unruly mop of dark brown hair that desperately needed the attention of a pair of scissors. His ID badge said James… I glanced at the clock. I needed to hurry, or I’d miss the bus!
That’s exactly what happened. To make matters worse, it began to rain and in my haste to leave, I’d forgotten my umbrella!
It didn’t look good for a hairdresser to arrive at work with locks like rat’s tails, but it couldn’t be helped! Panicking, I caught the next bus. As I was late, I swerved the tea from the van. Mrs Pickles, in a huge raincoat and big black wellies, was outside when I arrived.
‘Oh hello. I’ve been waiting ages, standing here in the rain. Where’s Amy?’ she demanded.
‘She’s ill, so I’m covering for her today,’ I explained.
‘Well, in that case, I’ll ring the salon later and make another appointment.’ She promptly stormed off, splashing through the puddles.
I sighed. It was going to be one of those days…
It was. Clients trailed water in, so I hauled the mop and bucket out, plus I put the yellow warning cones out. But naturally, one of our customers slipped… a glamorous young mum in high heels landed on her designer jean-clad bottom. I apologised but all she was bothered about was her hair, as she was going to an upmarket ‘ladies lunch’ event. Thank goodness our hairspray had excellent hold!
Then Mrs Nichols brought her little Yorkshire terrier, Foxy, with her. She let Foxy wander about, where he sniffed about in corners, hoping to hoover up any stray biscuit crumbs. Then, to my dismay, Foxy piddled all over the floor – as if our floor wasn’t wet enough already! I grabbed the mop and bucket again…
At one, I shut up shop and sped to the bakers. They’d run out of my favourite sarnie, so I had egg mayonnaise. I didn’t like egg mayo, but it would have to do. I was starving!
At least it had stopped raining, I thought. So, I joined the queue at the drinks van, yet James wasn’t working. Oh, never mind! I had tonight to look forward to. My mate Cassie was popping round for a girly chill-out evening. We’d planned to order a takeaway (it would probably be a pizza to share) and watch a rom- com DVD.
Then a text came in from Cassie: ‘Sorry Zara but I’m crying off tonight. Dan’s home.’
Right…my heart sank. Dan was her on/off partner who worked away. He often turned up at her home unannounced and when that happened, Cassie dropped everything. Unfortunately, that included me. I guess I’d be the same if I was blissfully loved- up, I reasoned.
‘I’ve an important meeting at three thirty, so do your best, please,’ Julia Kemp crisply instructed.
I didn’t warm to her sharp tone, yet I comforted myself that it was only a shampoo, trim and blow dry. When I’d finished, I whipped the cloak away and she admired herself in the mirror.
‘That’s lovely, Zara’, she said.
I beamed. When she paid, she gave me a very generous tip. That was a nice surprise! As I swept up, I glanced in the mirror. Oh no… I was aghast. There was a prominent egg mayo stain on my top…
Ten minutes later, I was taken aback when James strolled in. He made my pulse race!
‘Oh, hi. I didn’t know you were a hairdresser. Could you fit me in for a short back and sides?’
Mrs Pickles had hambled away, plus I’d had two cancellations – that had freed my slots up. So yes, I could. I led him to a chair and tucked a gown around him.
‘Would you like a tea or coffee?’
He grinned. ‘That’s usually my line, isn’t it er -?’
I smiled. ‘Zara.’
‘I’m James. Yes, I’d like a tea. Milk and two sugars, please.’
Good. That gave me an excuse to hasten away to the back. While I made his drink, I found a clean top. We keep extra clothes there in case any messy hair dye ends up on us.
‘You weren’t at the van today,’ I remarked.
‘It’s my day off.’
I got cracking and at the cash desk, he lingered.
‘You’ve done a great job… look, I’ve liked you for ages but there’s no time to chat with long queues at the van. Would you like to meet for a drink at the weekend, Zara?’
My spirit sang. A date! We swapped numbers on our mobiles.
James was my last client.
I locked up and caught the bus home, only to find Amy on my doorstep, with a gorgeous bouquet of flowers.
‘I feel so much better now. It must have been a touch of flu. These flowers are for you. Many thanks for covering for me.’
‘Lovely! Look, I’d planned a takeaway and a DVD tonight. Why not join me?’
‘Sounds fab. You can tell me all about your day.’
I smiled wryly. It had certainly been an eventful one!
