10
‘Oh my!’ said the postie, staring at the shiny buttons and flashing lights. ‘That is some con-trap-tion you have there, man!’
‘It is a hair-cutting-and-styling machine,’ said Tallulah proudly. ‘We invented it to help Mrs Fudge here, who is in need of an extra pair of hands.’
‘And so she is, darlin’, and so she is,’ said Raphael, clapping the girl on the shoulder. ‘Oh! You must be de Foghorn girl!’ he added. ‘Am I right or am I right? I has been past your house a few times. Strange though, cos I has not had any post for you yet,’ he added, looking suddenly quite serious. ‘And I hasn’t seen your gran’father either. Is you all right in that big old hotchpotch of a house, young lady? Every time I pass by, all I hears is funny noises, a-whirrin’ and a-clickin’ away.’
Tallulah reeled somewhat under the weight of Raphael’s hand. ‘Yes, er, quite all right, thank you,’ she said.
Dash watched her closely and glanced at Smug too. He was certain he saw the little pug shake his head firmly as if warning Tallulah to say no more.
Everyone shuffled and waited for someone else to speak. An atmosphere of awkwardness had descended on the company like a chilly morning mist.
‘So,’ said the postie, finally breaking the silence, ‘has any o’ you had a go at this new machine yet?’
‘Mrs Fudge volunteered,’ said Dash, ‘but it seems that she is not the sort of model we are looking for.’ He shot a steely-eyed look at Smug, who made a big show of settling his spectacles back on to his tiny nose and washing his front paws.
‘Will you let me try it?’ asked Raphael, his eyes shining. ‘I has been tinkin’ that I is needin’ a new look, Mrs Fudge darlin’. Maybe now is de time!’ He rubbed his hands together.
‘I am sure we could come up with something suitable,’ said Smug smoothly.
Raphael whirled around. He peered at the two dogs. ‘Dash, is you teasin’ me? Pretendin’ to speak for this cute li’l fella here?’ he said, pointing at Smug.
‘Ah, thank you for the compliment,’ said Smug. He lowered his head in a modest manner.
‘Goodness to mercy, I is goin’ crazy!’ Raphael cried.
‘No, no, you’re not,’ said Pippa.
‘This is fascinating,’ murmured Tallulah. ‘Another human who can understand Smug. What an intriguing place this town is turning out to be . . .’
Pippa drew herself up tall, and putting on her most important-sounding tone of voice she said, ‘Tally says only special people can understand Smug. And we must be special because we can understand Dash,’ she said.
‘Humpf!’ said Dash. ‘Why can’t you understand all the other dogs around here then?’
Tallulah cleared her throat. ‘It may have something to do with the fact that the other canines have nothing interesting to say.’
Dash lowered his head in the doggy equivalent of a blush. ‘Oh, er. Yes, that is rather likely,’ he mumbled.
‘Well!’ said Raphael. He looked from pug to dachshund and then back to the machine. ‘What a day dis is turnin’ out to be!’
‘So it is,’ said Smug impatiently. ‘Now, shall we proceed with the demonstration?’
Raphael carefully lowered himself into the twirly-whirly chair. This was tricky because of his long legs and his rollerblades. The postie had to fold himself up like an umbrella to fit in under the machine as it hung low over the seat.
Smug waited until Raphael was comfortable. Then he said, ‘What will it be today, sir?’
‘Oh, I tink jus’ a trim,’ said Raphael, sounding distinctly more nervous now that he was in the chair.
The pug nodded to Tallulah, who turned a few wheels, flicked some levers and pressed a green button. Then Tallulah lowered the visor over Raphael’s face (‘To stop bits of hair flying into your mouth and eyes,’ she explained) and pressed a large red button. Immediately two white-gloved hands sprang out from little doors in the sides of the machine. One hand picked up a loop of Raphael’s black hair and the other whipped out some scissors from another small door. Then SNIP-SNIP-SNIPPETY-SNIP! The hands went into a whirlwind of activity, chopping and trimming and clipping away.
Pippa’s stomach did a backflip as she watched the scissors slice through Raphael’s hair. I do hope this machine knows what it is doing, she thought.
Raphael’s face meanwhile had gone from nervous to uneasy through to downright scared as he saw great long strands of his own hair flying through the air.
‘I – I tink that be enough for me today,’ he cried out, his eyes wide.
Tallulah stepped forward and pressed a yellow button and the hands froze in mid-air. The whizzing and whirring noises stopped as well. Then, quick as a bolt of lightning, the gloved hands zipped back into the doors in the side of the machine.
Raphael struggled out of the seat and glanced anxiously at himself in the mirror. He smoothed his hands over his scalp as he took in his reflection.
It was fair to say that a new look had been achieved. His hair was short and spiky and there was a magnificently inscribed letter ‘r’ shaved into the back of his scalp. Pippa held up a hand mirror so that Raphael could inspect himself from all angles.
The salon was deathly quiet. Even Muffles did not stir, purr or twitch a whisker.
Please let him be happy! Pippa prayed, her fingers crossed behind her back.
‘Well!’ said Raphael finally.
He stepped back, gave a slow twirl on his rollerblades, then stood looking at himself again. A smile crept into the corners of his mouth. Then he smacked his thigh and boomed, ‘I is lookin’ goooooood!’ His mouth stretched into the widest of smiles. ‘I is lookin’ handsome, man!’ he added.
Everyone let out the breath they had been holding and there was a scattering of anxious laughter.
‘Yeah!’ Raphael continued, with a little pirouette of joy. ‘You, Miss Tallulah and Mr Smug Pug, are de business, with your mar-vell-ous in-ven-tion! Mrs Fudge, they has read my mind! I would not have been able to describe exactly what I wanted for me new look, but the machine has got it right. Almost as though it has read me mind!’
‘How interesting . . .’ began Tallulah.
‘Ahem!’ Smug coughed loudly. ‘I am pleased.’
‘Not as pleased as me, man! I is very, very happy. I tink you has found your new pair o’ hands, Mrs F.’
Pippa cheered and gave Raphael a high-five while Mrs Fudge congratulated Smug and Tallulah. ‘Genius!’ she said. ‘Absolute genius!’
Only Dash could be heard to mutter in disgust, ‘But you don’t look like Raphael any more! And I would hardly call that “just a trim”. What would your lady customers say to such a drastic restyle, Mrs Fudge? Have you thought of that?’
No one was listening though.
Raphael was so thrilled with his new look that he declared he would help to advertise the incredible hairstyling machine.
‘I will speed off t’rough de town right away, me darlin’s!’ he cried, looking at himself this way and that in the mirror. ‘You know how the Crumblies like me to keep them posted! Well, that’s what I’ll do! You will have de whole town clamouring at the door to try out this ting, Mrs Fudge!’
‘Yes, well, I’m not sure I need even more customers, Raphael dear,’ said Mrs Fudge cautiously. ‘And don’t forget I have all the dogs to look after as well.’
‘But that’s just the point, madam,’ said Smug, ‘if you’ll pardon me for butting in. Now that you have the machine, you can take on as many customers as you like. And,’ he added, ‘you will be rich beyond your wildest dreams.’