Hair by Charlie, Dublin, 2014
‘Good morning,’ Matt smiled at the receptionist as he stood behind Stella, helping her to remove her jacket.
‘Stella Greene, I have an appointment with Charlie,’ Stella said and the receptionist beamed at them both.
‘Of course, Mrs Greene. Take a seat. He will be right with you.’
‘You go on, Matt, have a coffee and read the paper,’ Stella said to him. ‘You’ll be bored silly waiting for me to finish.’
He looked around the beautiful salon, smiling and nodding as he caught the eyes of the customers and staff. He pointed to a woman who was having her hair set in rollers and said, ‘You know, I think you’re right. I better leave here pronto. Because a man’s head could be turned with pretty ladies like this one!’
Everyone laughed and the lady beamed at the compliment, ‘Go away out of that! I’m old enough to be your mother!’
‘Never! My older sister, at the very most.’ He turned to the receptionist then and said dramatically, ‘My wife will have me broke. I don’t know, you women and your need to beautify yourself all the time! Goodness knows, she’s perfect just as she is! Am I right?’
‘Most certainly! Your wife is a beautiful woman,’ the old lady piped in, eager to get in on the fun. ‘The perfect couple.’
‘Oh he’s lovely, your husband,’ the receptionist said to Stella, giggling.
Stella smiled brightly and said, ‘Oh, you have no idea. Now off you go, get your coffee and let me have a gossip with these lovely ladies.’
Matt kissed her forehead and disappeared out the door, but not before looking through the salon window one last time.
‘He can’t get enough of you! And he’s so romantic, the way he always helps you take your jacket off and on. Such a gentleman.’ The receptionist giggled again, ‘does he have a brother?’
‘Oh, I’m afraid Matt is a one-off,’ Stella replied, then smiled in relief when her stylist, Charlie, arrived over. Six feet four, tanned, tattooed, chiseled and wearing a tight white t-shirt, his custom skinny jeans and high heels. Today, his hair was blonde. She never knew what colour it would be. Mascara made his already impossibly long dark lashes stand out, resplendent on his tanned face.
‘Hello beautiful,’ Stella said.
He kissed her on her cheek, smiling warmly. ‘Good to see you. Come on, let’s get your colour started.’
‘Quite the charmer, your husband,’ Charlie remarked. ‘He works the room, doesn’t he?’
‘Sometimes the words said by the mouth are not the thoughts heard by the heart,’ Stella answered bluntly.
Charlie looked at her in the mirror, questions in his eyes. She closed her eyes, therefore closing the conversation. They had a great system. He knew that sometimes she didn’t want to talk. Once she closed her eyes, like now, he would leave her be. His hands were gentle and the rhythm of him placing strips of foil around strands of her hair, then applying the colour, were strangely hypnotic.
A menu of drinks was placed in front of her and she chose a glass of cranberry juice. She could have had wine, like the two ladies beside her, who giggled as they had their hair blow-dried and gossiped about their forthcoming night out. Stella wondered what it would be like to be someone like them. Didn’t matter though, because she had never been someone like that.
‘How are you?’ Charlie asked.
‘I’m very well. How are you?’
‘Grabbing the divil by the tail. You know me.’
‘Are you still seeing that guy, the bouncer from The Liquor Rooms?’
‘No, he and I didn’t work out. But I’ve met the most delicious man, a solicitor from Donegal. The things he pulls from his briefcase is nobody’s business!’
‘You’re a man-whore,’ Stella laughed.
‘And your point is?’ Charlie laughed in response.
Then he stopped, his eyes locked on the back of her neck. ‘What happened here? This looks nasty. It wasn’t here when you called in for your weekly blow-dry last Friday.’
Stella had no idea what he meant.
‘There’s a bruise on the back of your neck. It looks painful.’ Concern etched every chiseled line on his face.
‘I’m fine, I promise you. You know how clumsy I am. Always picking up new bruises.’
‘Clumsy is a word I’d never use to describe you, my lovely,’ he said, looking at her, with suspicion clouding his face. ‘But you certainly seem to bruise a lot.’
‘Oh, trust me, I am. Ask Matt what I did with a carton of milk this morning! One minute it was in my hand, the next it was all over our cream marfil tiles.’
‘If you say so.’
‘Yes. I do.’ And to reiterate this, she closed her eyes again. Subject closed, Charlie.
They kept their conversation to the minimum for the next hour. But it wasn’t lost on Stella that Charlie dismissed the services of the usual apprentice who washed hair and led her to the sinks himself. He folded a large, soft towel and placed it on the edge of the basin, where her neck would rest.
This kindness was nearly the undoing of Stella. She grabbed his hand and squeezed her thanks, unable to speak. He then went to work, gently shampooing her hair.
‘I’m going to give you a Charlie special.’
‘Steady,’ Stella joked, finding her voice. ‘I didn’t think you were that way inclined.’
‘If I was going to turn for anyone, it would be you, my lovely. You are going to have one of my scalp massages. Legendary these are. And only taken out in extreme cases. Now close your eyes and relax.’
He started to massage different pressure points on her head and neck, careful to avoid the bruised area. He seemed to be combining different techniques of massaging strokes. One minute he applied pressure with just the fingertips, then he varied the amount of pressure. He also changed the direction every few minutes from clockwise to anticlockwise. And for the first time in months, Stella began to feel relaxed.
‘Oh Charlie, that was amazing,’ she breathed.
‘Exactly what my fella said to me last night,’ he said, winking at her. ‘Seriously, you need to take better care of yourself. That neck of yours, aside from the bruise, is knotted with tension.’
‘I’ll be fine.’
‘Am I cutting your hair today?’ he asked.
‘Just a trim, Matt likes it this length,’ Stella replied.
‘Unlike our ditzy receptionist, I’m not interested in what your husband wants. What about you? What length do you like it?’ Charlie asked.
She smiled and replied, ‘I like it just fine. But you never know, one day I might surprise you and get it all chopped off.’
‘As long as I’m the one to do it, I’ll be happy.’
Stella looked at him in the mirror for a moment. ‘Do you ever do house calls?’
‘Only for special people. You need me?’
‘My next-door neighbour, Rea, is an absolute darling and has been doing me favours. She doesn’t go outside any more – she suffers from agoraphobia. I’d love to surprise her with a house call from you.’
‘Never goes outside!’ Charlie looked horrified at the prospect.
‘Never. She gets panic attacks. It would be a small way for me to repay her for all her kindnesses to me. And I’d pay you, of course, for your time.’
‘The fact that she’s doing something nice for you is enough payment for me. I worry about you.’
‘There’s no need,’ Stella replied.
‘Oh, I think there is. You might only have been coming here a year or so, but we’ve become friends, haven’t we?’
Stella nodded. She had become very fond of Charlie and one of the few pleasures she had now was coming to see him to get her hair done.
‘I’m off tomorrow, why don’t I call around 12-ish?’ he asked.
‘Oh that would be fantastic. I’ll be able to join you then too. Matt will never even know.’
Charlie looked at her sharply. ‘What do you mean by that? Why mustn’t Matt know you are over there?’
Stella sighed and didn’t know how to answer him. It was so complicated and she felt drained from it all.
‘It’s okay, little one. You hold onto your secrets for now. But know this, I’m a good listener, if you need one. Now, my lovely, look at you, just perfection.’
Stella flinched at the word.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I just don’t like that word. Nobody’s perfect, least of all me,’ Stella said.
Charlie leaned in and ruffled her hair slightly. ‘There, much better. Perfection is overrated anyhow.’
Stella hugged him close as she was leaving, whispering her thanks, just as Matt walked into the salon.
He walked over to them, his eyes narrowed as he took in the embrace.
‘What’s this? Turn my back for a moment and you’re in another man’s arms?’ His tone might have been light, but Stella knew that he was angry. She pulled away from Charlie and said, ‘I was just thanking him for taking such good care of me. He gave me the most wonderful head massage. You should try it, it’s so relaxing.’
Charlie’s eyes never left Matt’s, and then he went into full performance mode, over- the-top gay man. ‘Oh darling, the things I could do to unleash the tension in that neck of yours, oh my!’
Matt’s face relaxed and his smile returned. He walked over to the receptionist and handed her a box filled with macaroons.
‘A little something to say thank you for taking such good care of my wife.’
‘He’s quite something, your husband,’ Charlie said quietly to Stella.
She looked at him, then answered, using Rea’s phrase, ‘He’s a dickhead … of the highest order.’
When Charlie spluttered with laughter, Matt turned around sharply to see what was so funny. Stella walked serenely towards him, her face impassive. She reached into the box of confectionary that was sitting on the reception desk and said, ‘Don’t mind if I do. You are a treasure, Matt.’
And although Stella knew that he’d make her pay for her little display of defiance, she didn’t care. This was a small victory and she was going to enjoy it.