every move.
Betty was one of her regulars. She always came for the same thing – a wash and set – despite Annie’s angling to get her to try something new. She never did. Most of the women who came here were the same.
‘No,’ she replied, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. ‘Why must it be a fella? Why can’t we just be happy all on our own?’
Betty guffawed. ‘Sure, isn’t that the only reason God created Adam?’
Annie rolled her eyes as she chuckled. ‘Maybe you can’t be happy without a man, Betty Corcoran, but I certainly can.’ She looked at her client in the mirror as she began to run her fingers through her hair. ‘I make myself happy.’
Betty sniggered.
‘Don’t mind that one,’ her boss Rose put in. ‘She’s Not-So-Little Miss Sunshine these days,’ she said, taking a blatant aim at Annie’s muffin-top – another thing she’d been meaning to fix by taking long walks in the evening after work. But she was always too tired.
The salon owner teased the hair of the blonde in front of her. Rose was lost in a time warp, still back in the Eighties, where people liked their hair puffed up to the size of a football helmet. And the explanation for why all of the salon’s clients were in their forties or older, Annie knew; no one else would be interested in getting their hair done by her.
‘At least sun is better than rain,’ she quipped back at her boss. ‘So what colour do you want?’ she asked, turning her attention to Betty. ‘Same as last time?’
‘I’m thinking something spicy for a change,’ she answered with a wicked grin.
Annie raised an eyebrow. ‘Spicy?’
Betty smirked. ‘I’m meeting my fancy man tonight,’ she boasted. ‘I want to look my best.’
‘In that case,’ she answered, ‘I think you’d look amazing with a richer burgundy shade. I can darken your eyebrows a little too,’ Annie added as she turned towards her mixing station and began pulling colours from the cupboard.
People thought just a tube of solid hair dye could give you the right look, but that wasn’t true. You needed the right mix to give the highlights and low tones. She grabbed a fire-engine red, a dark blonde, and a chestnut, with the addition of a drop of dark brown to make a tone that would be uniquely Betty. That was what Annie did.
She didn’t ‘do’ cookie-cutter clients. She made sure everyone who stepped away from her station was spectacular in their own right. She picked up the dyes, mixing them quickly in a fluorescent pink bowl with her medium brush.
‘So where did you find this fancy man then?’ she asked as she began applying dye to Betty’s roots, starting at the back.
‘At Tesco,’ she replied. ‘He was trying to pick the right peppers and I helped him find the best one.’
Rose laughed. ‘Passion over peppers. Spicy indeed.’
‘I think we could all use a little of that,’ Annie said dreamily.
‘Even you with your Ridey Rabbit?’ Betty joked as she gave Annie a look in the mirror.
‘Hey, that’s not what I meant by making myself happy! And I never said I didn’t want a fella either. I’m just tired of the eejits you get around here. I want someone real. Someone who gets me,’ Annie explained.
‘Hear, hear,’ Felicity Finch piped up. She was one of Rose’s oldest regulars (and Annie’s favourite clients) and was sitting in the corner waiting area reading a magazine. She folded the periodical and rested it on her knee. ‘Good for you, Annie. It’s about time your generation realised there’s more to life than mindless craic. Eventually, you need to get serious.’
‘Listen to yer wan,’ Rose joked. ‘You sound like a school teacher, Felicity.’
‘No, I sound like wisdom,’ she replied. ‘I lived the wild life myself, Annie, but it gets boring after a while. I know what it’s like. And I know the repercussions.’
Annie’s gaze shifted towards her. While her personality was typically light-hearted, the older woman’s expression was now deadly serious. There was a look in her eyes that Annie could only describe as regret.
‘I ran around like there was no tomorrow,’ Felicity continued, and Annie was discomfited by the fact that she seemed to be looking her right in the eye. ‘I loved men, and boy did they love me. I was practically the town bike—’
‘Really, now …’ Rose interrupted, but Felicity smiled, continuing her story as if she hadn’t been interrupted.
‘I don’t mind. I had loads of men running after me, and I thought it was great. Mad craic altogether. Then I stopped being twenty and became thirty, and still I thought I could live the same life. Then thirty became forty,’ she explained. ‘And I started waking up with lads I didn’t remember, in places that weren’t my own. Then one day I was on the far side of forty-five and there was no one. All the men were settled and married. My friends had moved on and had families, whereas I had just me.’
A hollow feeling began to fill Annie’s stomach as she listened to a story that sounded way too familiar. It was as if the older woman could see right into her soul. She didn’t want to be Felicity. She wanted a family, preferably while she was young enough to enjoy it. But there was no sign of that anywhere on the horizon just now.
It took her a moment to realise that her hand had stopped its work and was hovering just above Betty’s head.
Everyone was looking at Felicity, surprised. No one had expected that story. She was a frequent customer but not one who routinely chit-chatted about personal stuff like some of the others. Today she’d revealed more than any of them ever had.
Now Felicity’s gaze met Annie’s full on and there was no mistaking the warning in them.
‘Decide what you want and go for it, Annie. Don’t think that tomorrow will always be there. You won’t always be thirty, or even forty. One day, the way you lived in your younger years will catch up with you.’
Annie got it. She understood. She already felt as if she’d lived as long as some of the women who came to the salon. She was tired.
Tired of meaninglessness, empty encounters, having no one she could call on to be there. She looked at Felicity, with her sad eyes, grey hair and wrinkled brow. Would she look like that in thirty years’ time? Would she be telling someone else a similar cautionary tale in years to come?
Not if she could help it.
‘Well, it just got very serious in here,’ Rose joked, breaking the stillness. Everyone laughed. Everyone but Annie.
Felicity’s story had hit home.
That night, as she walked home, Annie’s mind was racing while her body was weary. She’d seen a record number of clients that day, including several last-minute emergencies that she simply couldn’t refuse. Why did people try to do their own hair when they’d never done it before?
She flopped onto her bed and once again stared up at the ceiling as she kicked her shoes off. Annie worked hard; she always did. She had to.
