by Hayley Long
Dilys said, ‘Oooh, Jean’s Mick can make a mean Yorkshire pud, can’t he?’
‘Hmm,’ I said and then, to change the subject, I asked, ‘Do anything interesting last night, Neil?’
Neil said, ‘Went to a club. Had a few women throw themselves at me. The usual.’
I quite like Neil but it’s no wonder that things never worked out between him and Goose. She might think she’s as tasty as a bar of chocolate but Neil thinks he’s an entire Cadbury’s factory.
Dilys said, ‘Oooh, fighting off the ladies again then, Neily?’
Neil said, ‘None of them floated my boat, Dil.’ And then he winked at me and made my face go hot again.
Jean had switched the CD player on and was now turning the sign on the door to Open. As she walked back to the reception desk, the speakers crackled into life and she began humming along to the song which was playing. It was the same song which is almost always playing.
Before I could stop myself, I said, ‘Jean, can’t we listen to something else today? Not this same drippy love song over and over again?’
Jean gave a little laugh but she actually looked a bit shocked. With her hands on her hips and her head tilted sharply to one side, she said, ‘You do exaggerate, Lottie! It’s not one song. It’s a whole album of wonderful songs.’
I sighed. Yeah, I appreciate that,’ I said, trying really hard not to cause any more offence, ‘. . . but it’s a bit . . . well . . . boring.’
Jean raised her eyebrows. ‘Boring? It’s NOT BORING. Carole King’s Tapestry is the thirty-sixth greatest album EVER made. That’s a fact, Lottie! Ask anyone.’
‘Is it?’ I asked Neil.
Neil shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘I’d never actually heard of it before I came to work here. But to be fair, I only really listen to George Michael.’
Jean shook her head and looked exasperated. ‘You kids! Honestly! You can’t recognize a lovely tune even when it’s right inside your lugholes. But even my Gazzy loves this album.’
‘Does he?’ I asked in surprise.
‘Absolutely adores it,’ said Jean. ‘Bless his little heart.’
I sighed. I was starting to feel a bit colossally confused. I’m still a bit colossally confused by that fact even now. Me and Gareth Stingecombe are usually on exactly the same wavelength. What can he possibly hear in this stupid boring middle-aged music that I can’t? Not wanting to give up the fight, I argued, ‘But it doesn’t even make any sense. What on earth does she mean when she whines on about feeling like an actual woman? What other kind of woman is there?’
Jean laughed. You’ve misheard it, Lottie, sweetheart. It’s not actual she’s saying – it’s NATURAL. I suppose she’s telling her man that he makes her feel strong — strong enough to own up to the fact that she’s a normal natural human being who sometimes makes mistakes and needs his understanding and support from time to time. I, personally, think it’s a very beautiful song.’ And then she added, ‘And Dilys loves it and the clients love it, so I’m afraid, Lottie, you’re just going to have to lump it.’ She stuck her tongue out at me and got up to greet Mrs Lewis who comes in every Saturday just to have a wash and blow-dry. I sighed and picked up the broom. Jean can be a bit childish sometimes. She’s still got the power to beat me in every argument though.
A few minutes before my lunch hour, just as I was out the back loading wet towels into the washing machine, Neil popped his head through the doorway and said, ‘There’s a great big hunk of chunk to see you.’
‘You’re starting to sound like Dilys,’ I warned him.
‘Oooh, do you think so?’ he said. And then he winked at me and started laughing like a donkey.
Gareth was waiting on the pavement outside the salon. When he saw me, he smiled and said, ‘I’m treating you to whatever you fancy from Pat’s Plaice. I reckon it must be hard work being in there all day with that scatty womanizer, Mad Alien.’
‘Neil’s all right,’ I said and linked my arm through Gareth’s. ‘I just don’t think he’s found what he’s looking for yet.’
Gareth scowled. ‘Yeah, well, so long as he doesn’t try to find it by making any moves on you.’
I laughed. You just don’t get it, do you, Gaz?’
‘Get what?’ said Gareth.
We’d come to a halt outside the chip shop. I took hold of his hand and right in the middle of Whitchurch village, I said, ‘Why would I keep going on about wanting to do it with you if there was any possibility that I might be interested in Neil Adam?’
Gareth smiled a bit and said, ‘Oh!’
‘Honestly, Gaz,’ I said, ‘you don’t have to worry about anyone else flirting with me because you’re the only person I fancy in the whole of Whitchurch.’
Gareth looked up and down the crappy high street. A slight look of confusion clouded his face. ‘Oh?’
‘I mean in the whole of Cardiff,’ I added quickly. And then, just to make sure I was really getting my point across, I said, ‘Well, in the whole of anywhere, really.’
Gareth beamed and said, ‘Oh!’
For a moment, we stood outside Pat’s Plaice, just looking into each other’s eyes and holding hands. I could smell the delicious smell of the chip shop wafting up my nostrils and it was like a giant Lottie magnet trying to pull me in through its doors. But right then, there wasn’t one single thing on the planet which could have enticed me to move. If I had a pause button which could freeze me forever at one specific moment in time, I’d have pressed it right then.
But then Lee Fogel came out of the chip shop stuffing a pickled egg into his big mouth and the moment evaporated.
Gareth pulled me into the chippy and we bought our food. As it wasn’t raining, we took it outside so that we could sit on the ledge under the window and eat it. For a few minutes we sat there side by side, munching chips and saying nothing. Across the street, Goose and Spud appeared from the doorway of the Dragon Coffee House. They were holding hands and Goose had Spud’s rugby shirt draped across her shoulders. It looked rubbish. They stood outside the cafe and had a great big smoochy pashy and then Spud looked up and waved at Gareth. Goose looked down at the ground. I watched as they walked further up the street and stopped by the traffic island to chat to a group of sixth- formers I didn’t know. Goose obviously knew them though. I could see that they were all having a right old laugh about something.
I tapped my heels up and down against the pavement so that they made a really fast CLICK CLICK CLICK sound and said, ‘Have you thought about it any more?’
Gareth frowned and licked his chippy fingers. Then he said, ‘Yeah. Course I have. I keep on thinking about what you said in the Ponty-Carlo. I can’t actually think about anything else.’
‘Me neither,’ I said. And then I took a deep breath and added, ‘My mum is going out for a meal with her friends tonight. I’m gonna have the place all to myself My heels were still going CLICK CLICK CLICK.
Gareth picked up a chip and said, ‘Oh.’
‘We’ll need to be properly prepared though,’ I said. ‘You know, do it responsibly.’
Gareth put down his chip and stared at the pavement between his feet. Then, after several million light years had passed, he lifted his head and said, ‘The thing is, see, it’s a bit difficult.’
‘Difficult?’ I said. My heels stopped clicking.
‘Yeah,’ nodded Gareth. ‘Difficult. Coach Jenkins reckons that unnecessary expenditure of energy could be detrimental to my overall performance on the field of play.’
‘Huh?’ I said.
Gareth looked round to see that there was nobody within earshot and then, in a low voice, he said, ‘Basically, I reckon that he must mean no shagging before a big game.’
‘But you haven’t got any big games coming up, have you?’ I asked.
Gareth, who was already quite pink, flushed ultra-pink. ‘But I might have, Lottie. You never know when you’re going to get that call to play for the Wales youth team, you really don’t. It could come at any time.
’ He ate another chip and then added, ‘Besides, I said I’d go night fishing with Spud this evening.’
You’d rather go fishing with Spud than come round to my mumless house?’ I said.
Gareth frowned again. ‘He’s my best mate. I haven’t done anything with him for ages.’
I sighed and felt a bit stroppy. And then I remembered what Blake said about my haywire nervous system and tried to chill out a bit.
Gareth said, ‘Next week would be better for me, it really would.’
Before I could stop myself, I said, Yeah, but when next week? I thought you might have a big rugby match.’
Gareth bit his lip. I think he was feeling harassed. And I think it was me who was doing the harassing. I can be a real witch sometimes, I really can. I was just on the very brink of apologizing, when Gareth looked me right in the eye and said in a firm voice, ‘ You are more important to me than rugby. I wish you’d understand that.’ He bit his lip again, before adding, ‘Why don’t you come round Tuesday night? My mum and dad are going line dancing. They won’t be back before ten.’ And then he looked down at his food and went quiet. I suppose I hadn’t actually expected him to say all this because I was suddenly completely lost for words. But then, Gareth broke the awful pause anyway and said, ‘You know what? I don’t really fancy all of this now.’ He nodded downward. ‘My eyes have been bigger than my belly again.’ He speared his untouched jumbo sausage with his white plastic fork and then, with the faintest hint of a grin, he waved it under my nose and said, ‘Fancy my sausage, do you, babe?’
several shOCkING reveLatIONs
I know it’s not for me to say but I think I’ve always been fairly clever. Apart from in maths, science, geography, French, Welsh, business studies and RE, I’ve mostly managed to do quite well in tests, and when it comes to English and history, I’m usually near the top of the class. Once, when I was ten, I won third prize in a short story competition organized by my bank25 and then, when I was twelve, I came second in my school spelling competition. And let’s not forget that my last piece of English coursework was a perfect A* – whereas Goose only managed to get an A. Anyone with this list of achievements under their belt can’t be entirely stupid.
And yet sometimes I can’t see the truth even when it’s standing right in front of me and staring me straight in the face. Sometimes, the truth has to bash me over the head with a sledgehammer before I can see things as they actually and truly are. When this happens, it’s a very freaky and discombobulating experience. There’s no time to get to grips with a new idea – it’s just there. Instantly. Like an email. Mr Wood, my English teacher, would describe this experience as a shocking revelation. Shocking revelations can really knock you sideways.
This afternoon, in The Jean Genie, I scored a hat-trick. I had three of them.
The first shocking revelation came at the end of my lunch break. I’d already said goodbye to Gareth and was making my way back to the salon when I saw Lee Fogel and Samantha Morgan hanging around by the bus shelter. Lee was eating another pickled egg, or at least, I assume he was. Perhaps he’s actually the slowest pickled egg-eater in the world and it was the same one. When he saw me, he took his egg out of his gob and said, ‘Hello, Potty. Temperamental weather we’re having today, don’t you think?’
Lee Fogel is such an idiot.
I carried on walking.
Lee called out after me, ‘Oi, Potty! Me and Sam were just discussing a few environmental issues.
I carried on walking.
Lee Fogel called out even louder, ‘Stingecombe likes a bit of fun with a mental, does he?’
I stopped. And then, almost like I was being operated by a remote control somewhere, I turned around and walked back to the bus shelter. ‘What did you say?’ I said.
Lee Fogel sneered at me and shrugged his shoulders. ‘I just said that Stingecombe is fundamentally a nice guy. ‘What’s wrong with that?’
‘Nothing’s wrong with that,’ I said. ‘But you know what, Lee? I think you’re just a mindless little dickybird who needs to look up the word mental in the dicktionary before you start dicktating your stupid ideas to me. Because, guess what? I don’t give a Dickens what you think!’
It wasn’t brilliant but I think I made my feelings about him clear. I was upset though. My heart was thumping so hard that I’m surprised I didn’t break a rib.
Lee Fogel stopped sneering and turned downright nasty. ‘You don’t give a Dickens? What’s that supposed to mean, Nut-Nut?’
My eyes had suddenly gone all watery and my whole body was trembling. I bit my lip and tried to stop myself from crying but it was really difficult. A few tears leaked out anyway and my jaw was wobbling dangerously. I said, ‘I just think … I just think …’ And then I stopped because I didn’t want Lee Fogel to hear my voice go all squeaky and pathetic.
Samantha Morgan, who’d been studying the bus timetable, turned round and said, ‘She thinks you’re a dickhead, Lee, and, do you know what? So do I.’
Me and Lee both looked at Samantha in surprise. In fact, I was so surprised I forgot to be upset. It was as if I’d just woken up after being bashed painlessly on the head and was now seeing the world from a completely new perspective. Samantha shrugged and said, ‘I can’t help it, Lee. I say what I see and from where I’m standing I can see a total and utter arse.’
Lee gawped at Samantha and said, ‘What?’ And then he said, ‘Whose side are you on anyway, you dopey woman?’
Samantha scratched her chin and pretended to think about it. After a couple of nanoseconds, she said, ‘Right now, Lee, I’m on Lottie’s side.’
Lee continued to gawp at her.
I was gawping at her too. ‘I thought you didn’t like me,’ I said. My jaw had stopped wobbling and I was miraculously able to speak again.
Samantha rolled her eyes. ‘Get over it, Lottie! That was ages ago. I’m sorry about that time I called your mum a rozzer—’
‘I thought you said lezzer,’ I said really quickly.
‘Whatever,’ said Samantha Morgan. ‘Rozzer? Lezzer? Does it actually matter any more? It was stupid anyway.’ She jerked her head at Lee Fogel and added, ‘But one thing I do know is that I’ve had enough of standing around watching you being vile to people. So consider yourself dumped.’
And then she crossed over the road and disappeared in the direction of the flyover, leaving me and Lee Fogel just standing there.
I stood up as tall and straight as I could. I wasn’t shaking any more. Lee Fogel had gone very red and his mouth was hanging open. In my very best sarcastic voice, I said, ‘Oh dear – what a pity – never mind!’ And then I walked back to the salon feeling extremely pleased.
Which just leaves me to summarise my Shocking Revelation Number One: Samantha Morgan is actually a very decent person. The sad truth is that once upon a time we used to hang out together but now we don’t. And I’m extremely concerned that my friendship with Goose could end up going the same way.
Shocking Revelation Number Two came shortly afterwards when Neil and I were sitting together behind the reception desk and looking at the latest issue of Hair Necessities. The salon was quieter than usual and, to give him something to do, Jean had told Neil to help me with the appointments book and the telephone enquiries. To be honest, I didn’t actually need any help with either. No one was coming in from the street to book an appointment and the telephone wasn’t ringing at all. So, instead, we just sat and looked through all the hair magazines. In the background, Jean’s favourite Carole King CD was playing just like it always is. Neil was searching the pages of Hair Necessities for a good example of a Caesar haircut and crooning along softly to the natural woman song.
I tapped my finger on a picture of a male model with his hair all brushed upward into a Mohawk fin and said, ‘How about something like that next time, Neil? That would look really good on you.’
Neil studied the picture and, after a pause, said, ‘I’m not sure. I think my face is too square to be able to carry that
particular style. If you look at the model, he’s got a cherub-like face – rather like an upside-down teardrop – whereas my face is much more angular. No, I don’t think I could wear that style.’
I shrugged my shoulders and said, ‘Well, I think it would suit you.’
Neil pushed the magazine away from him and looked at me. I noticed he had that same dirty twinkle in his eye that he has every time he’s about to say something inappropriate to Dilys. He said, ‘Do you think it would make me sexually irresistible though, Lottie?’
I felt myself blush. Neil was staring straight at me and he was smirking a little bit. Jean, who was carefully trimming the massive eyebrows of Mr Ahmed, the school lollipop man, called over, ‘Are you two OK, over there?’
‘YEP,’ we said.
‘Good-oh,’ she replied. ‘Would you mind turning up the music a touch? It’s so quiet in here that we’re all in danger of falling asleep.’
I reached behind me and gladly turned up the volume control. Carole King’s plonky piano playing filled the shop. There was now no possibility that my future mother-in-law Jean Stingecombe would be able to hear Neil’s shameless sexual advances.
Neil raised his eyebrows at me and said, ‘Well? What do you think?’ He tapped the photo again and said, ‘Would your Gareth be excited by something like this?’
I tried to picture Gareth with a Mohawk fin on his head. It was difficult though because Gareth’s hair is quite fluffy and a bit awkward and tends to do its own thing. I shrugged my shoulders again and said, ‘He might do.’
Neil said, ‘Maybe I should then. If that’s the look that the modern man is going for.’ And then he winked at me. Neil is always winking at me.
Jean looked across at us and waved. Dilys had switched a hairdryer on and was giving Mrs John her weekly blow-dry. There was no possibility of being overheard. I decided that it was time to put Neil straight. In a low voice, I said, ‘Look, Neil, you’ve gotta stop flirting like this because it’s not appropriate in the workplace and, anyway, I’m just not interested. And if Jean hears you and tells Gareth, he’ll go berserk.’
