Serving Surprises – Coralie’s Court of Defiance

Prologue

The air hung thick and heavy, a suffocating blanket woven from uncharacteristically high humidity caused by summer storms and the relentless blaze of the sun. It was one of the grandest tennis tournaments of the year, and I, Coralie Chevaline, was wilting faster than a rose left out in the midday heat.

My hair, a cascade of thick, dark waves that stretched past my waist, felt like a leaden cloak. When I crammed it into a bun, it became a precarious tower threatening to topple with every serve. Ponytails and braids were marginally better, but the sheer weight of them pulled at my scalp, and damp tendrils relentlessly slapped against my face, an irritating distraction that chipped away at my focus.

Damn the patriarchy, damn the sponsors, and damn the archaic beauty standards that dictated a woman’s worth based on the length of her hair! Male players were buzzing their heads left and right in a desperate attempt to stay cool, while I, and countless other female athletes, were forced to suffer in silence, lest we be deemed “unfeminine” and risk losing our lucrative endorsements.

Respite

This morning, I managed a brief respite from the on-court inferno. I had arranged to meet Daniel Blakeston, the heartthrob with the surfer-boy charm and perpetually sun-kissed hair, for a walk through the town. It was not a “date”, not really, but I could not deny a tiny thrill at the prospect of spending time with him. I had even braved my shortest, most daring tennis dress normally reserved for the court, carefully applied my makeup, and left my hair loose, despite the heat, hoping he might notice my, admittedly desperate, effort.

As we strolled along the main streets, indulging in a little aimless window shopping, I frequently flicked my hair to grab Daniel’s attention. ‘You must be hot with all that hair down your back,’ he glibly remarked at one point. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t put it up, or something on a day like this.’

Oh well, I thought, at least I tried. I shrugged, then smiled coolly.

‘Talking of which,’ he continued, ‘have you seen Phil lately?’ Phil Anstey was Daniel’s doubles partner. Unfortunately, I had, but did not wish to talk about other people during our precious time together so I simply shrugged again. ‘He’s just had his head shaved and gone completely bald. ‘He said it’s the only way to survive out on court in this weather,’ Daniel chuckled. ‘Looks like a cue ball, but he swears he feels like a dynamo on court.’

I shrugged again, maintaining my indifference to Phil’s appearance. Personally, I thought he looked like he had just joined the army or escaped from prison. ‘Good for him,’ I mumbled, forcing a smile.

‘I’m thinking about doing the same,’ Daniel announced, his eyes gleaming with a sudden spark of rebellion. ‘Phil said there is a place around here that he went to. Said they are quick and efficient. We could go along together and then grab a coffee afterwards.’

A wave of disappointment washed over me. I had been hoping for a longer, more intimate outing and certainly had no interest in hanging around in a hair salon. ‘Right, Daniel, I’ll just go ahead to the café, then,’ I sighed, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice. ‘I’ll meet you there.’

‘Don’t be silly, Coralie. It’s just around the corner and it won’t take long,’ Daniel insisted, his hand gently guiding me down a narrow alleyway off the high street. ‘Besides, I could do with some moral support when I get scalped!’

Reluctance

It was Daniel’s hair, I reasoned, so it seemed churlish to lay any claim to it by discouraging him from getting it cut. However, if I did go along but not give him the support that he expected, then he might change his mind. So, I reluctantly followed him down the winding backstreets, my heels clicking against the cobblestones. The air grew heavier, thicker, infused with all manner of unpleasant and unidentifiable odours that I did my best to ignore. Why on earth had Phil come to this seedy part of town, and why was Daniel following his lead?

Finally, we stopped in front of a tiny, dilapidated barbershop. The paint was peeling, the signage faded, and the overall impression was one of utter disrepair.

‘This is it? A barbershop?’ I asked, my voice laced with barely concealed disdain. ‘I mean, seriously?’

‘Yes, Coralie, this is where Phil went … er, I think,’ his confident tone dipping slightly as he studied the shopfront.

‘Daniel, look, you could book an appointment in one of those fancy salons in the high street if you must,’ I franticly suggested as a diversionary tactic, ‘or, if you’re really desperate, go to the tournament’s own hair salon.’

Daniel just laughed, ignoring my protests, and practically dragged me inside.

Recognition

The shop was tiny, cramped and dimly lit. A single, worn barber’s chair sat in the centre of the room, facing a cracked mirror. The air was thick with a musky odour of masculine hair products and a hint of stale cigarette smoke ingrained in the woodwork. The walls held faded black-and-white photos of men’s hairstyles that may have been fashionable in the dim and distant past.

Behind the chair stood a striking woman of a similar age to me, with a towering fauxhawk dyed an electric shade of purple. She wore a black leather miniskirt teamed with a white lace top. Not a typical barber, I reflected, but what did I know as I had never entered a barbershop before that day. And I had already decided that I never wanted to enter one again. She was tall and muscular, with a commanding presence that filled the small space.

‘Wow, Daniel Blakeston!’ she exclaimed, her eyes widening in recognition. ‘And Coralie Chevaline! What an honour!’ she added, almost contemptuously. Her gaze lingered on Daniel a little too long for my comfort.

‘Phil Ansty sent me along here,’ Daniel said, running a hand through his tousled locks. ‘He told me Donna is the best!’

‘He’s not wrong,’ Donna replied, a predatory glint in her eyes. She ushered Daniel into the barber’s chair. ‘Donna is the best, so have a seat, honey,’ she purred, raking her manicured fingers through his locks once he had settled.

I hovered just inside the shop, feeling like a spare part. ‘I’ll see you in the café, Daniel,’ I ventured anxiously, edging back towards the door.

‘No, Coralie, I won’t be long,’ he pleaded, although it felt more like a command.

The annoyance obvious showing on Donna’s face – presumably because she would not have Daniel to herself – did not escape me.

‘Coralie, I suppose you can wait over there,’ she instructed dismissively, with attitude, pointing to a rickety wooden chair by the window.

Consultation

‘So, down to the wood, just like Phil?’ Donna asked, her commanding voice a low growl.

Daniel looked slightly apprehensive. ‘Well, I’m open to suggestions,’ he stammered. ‘Perhaps, something not quite so extreme?’

Donna let out a throaty laugh as she draped Daniel with a large white cape. ‘Don’t worry, darling. Donna says you will look best with it all off. Down to the wood. Trust me.’

I perched on the uncomfortable chair, a knot of apprehension tightening in my stomach. I had grown tired of Donna referring to herself in the third person all the time, although the whole atmosphere of the place felt off. The air was filled with an indefinable mix of anticipation and unease.

‘Coralie, what do you think?’ Daniel whimpered from the chair as the barber prepared her equipment.

I thought, once again, that I should leave as quickly as possible, even looking back through the grubby window to check my escape route. I strongly believed it would be best for Daniel if he joined me. He could see my reflection in the mirror, poised for a getaway as I was, and I saw him shake his head slightly. So, reluctantly, I settled back down. His expression suggested he still wanted my suggestions. ‘I think that -’

A loud roar cut off my advice as Donna switched on a massive set of fearsome-looking red hairclippers. She caught my surprised look in the mirror, and she looked pleased to have kept me out of the consultation.

Then, the barber attacked.

Destruction

Donna expertly wielded the hairclippers, buzzing through Daniel’s golden locks with ruthless efficiency. Within minutes, his head was completely bare, glowing under the harsh fluorescent light. She followed up with an electric foil shaver, ensuring not a single strand remained. The transformation was shocking, almost brutal.

Despite his initial nervousness and anxious glances throughout his shearing, Daniel seemed thrilled with the result. ‘Wow, this feels so amazing!’ he exclaimed, running his hand over his smooth scalp. ‘Like a weight’s been lifted.’

Donna grinned. ‘Donna says that handsome Daniel is now ready to conquer everyone and win the championship!’

Daniel turned in the chair to face me. ‘Coralie, you’ve got to come over and feel this!’ he urged.

I hesitantly reached out and touched his head. It was surprisingly smooth and cool, a stark contrast to the clammy humidity of the day. ‘I can see how it would be an advantage on court,’ I admitted.

The gleam in his eye suddenly matched the shine of his scalp. ‘Coralie, you should try it,’

Foolishness

‘What?’ I squeaked, having edged towards the door and mentally prepared myself to finally get out of that awful place. ‘You cannot be serious!’

‘Imagine how much lighter you’d feel,’ Daniel pressed, getting to his feet and fingering my long hair ‘No more sweating, no more distractions. Just pure focus.’

‘Easy for you to say,’ I scoffed, even if he had planted a faint but ridiculous seed of temptation. ‘You don’t have lucrative hair care endorsement deals hanging in the balance.’

Donna, who had been listening intently, sidled up to me. ‘Donna may have a compromise that will work for Coralie,’ she purred, as she joined Daniel in lightly fingering my hair. A sly smile playing on her lips, as she gestured to the now vacant barber’s chair.

Any advice to counter the heat and humidity was welcome, so I was intrigued by what she had to say. But, at the same time, I was very apprehensive. However, I found myself perched nervously on the edge of the barber’s chair, the worn leather cool against my bare thighs.

‘Don’t worry, Coralie, the scissors and clippers are safely out of reach …’ Donna joked, her eyes twinkling, ‘well, for now.’

I had no idea what to expect but she had reassured me by her claim that her cutting equipment was not close by. Without explanation, she expertly sectioned off my hair, creating five distinct ponytails. One large one pluming from crown and four smaller ones lower down, around my head. I contemplated that she must be proposing a clever form of braiding and, momentarily, I relaxed a little.

‘So, here’s the plan,’ Donna explained. ‘Donna chops off these four lower ponytails close to the scalp, then shaves the back and sides right down to the skin, just like I did with Daniel,’ she said excitedly.

‘Uh?’ I grunted, not sure I had heard her correctly.

‘Then, Donna trims this top one,’ she explained, giving it a vigorous tug, ‘leaving a sweet little ponytail. When you are playing, it will look cute, but it will also be practical and out of the way. And when you are off the court, you can release it to cover the shaved areas. It will look like a chic, long bob with a cheeky concealed undercut.’

The idea of shaving any part of my head sent a jolt of panic through me. I scrambled to my feet, ready to bolt for the door. ‘No way!’ I exclaimed. ‘I can’t do that!’

‘But that would be so cool,’ Daniel chimed in, insistently tugging the larger ponytail that Donna had threatened to “trim”, leaving me no choice but to fall back into the chair.

I was surprised by his enthusiasm for such a ludicrous idea. ‘But Daniel -’

He altered his grip on my hair, scooping up the four ponytails from lower down, and flattening them against the side of my head. ‘Think of all that hair just gone, replaced by smooth skin on the back and sides … just like mine.’

Donna stood back a little, smirking, clearly amused by Daniel’s spurt of enthusiasm. I tried again to challenge their ridiculous suggestions, but they ignored me. They were relentless in the pursuit of their desire to rid me of nearly all my hair. Daniel and Donna plied me with arguments about practicality, performance, and the allure of a daring fresh look. They painted a picture of freedom, of liberation from the tyranny of expectation.

Together, the pair of them were wearing me down. I stared at my reflection in the cracked mirror, my heart pounding in my chest. Could I really do this? Could I sacrifice my image, my sponsors, for the sake of comfort and a competitive edge?

A wave of exhaustion washed over me. The constant pressure, the relentless heat, the suffocating weight of my own hair … it was all too much.

‘Fine!’ I squeaked, my voice barely a whisper. ‘Fine, just do it.’

Progression

The barber’s smile widened, a flash of white teeth in the dimly lit room. ‘Donna will be delighted.’

She grabbed her hairclippers, turned them on, and with a practiced flick of the wrist, she severed the first ponytail. The roar around my ears and the vibration against my skull was deafening, alien to anything I had previously experienced. It was a violent, almost savage, severing of my past, my identity.

Donna passed my hair to Daniel who loomed over me, without getting in the barber’s way, and seemed transfixed by what she was doing. She drove the clippers into the next ponytail, then another, and finally the last apart from the one pluming from my crown. Daniel gathered all the hair together that Donna had cut and laid it out, almost reverentially, on the dusty shelf below the mirror.

The barber then used the hairclippers to shave all the hair left behind after shearing off my ponytails. She then used the electric shaver on the newly exposed areas of my head, the cold metal gliding over my skin. A strange tingling sensation spread through my scalp, a mix of fear and exhilaration.

A silence fell as Donna lifted the thicker ponytail that remained, moving it around and examining it. ‘Donna says here will be best,’ indicating a point along my ponytail to Daniel. It was a short but reasonable distance from where she had secured it on my crown.

‘No, no, no!’ Daniel disagreed, as if the barber were being ridiculous. ‘Shorter!’ he insisted, giggling. ‘We want her to be smoother and more aerodynamic!’

Daniel and Donna continued debating the length of the remaining ponytail, seemingly oblivious to my growing unease.

‘Excuse me, I am still here, you know,’ I piped up indignantly, wishing to reclaim control over my own appearance. Momentarily, they stopped and looked at me, taken aback by my needless outburst. Then they continued with their dispute as if I had said nothing. I felt like a puppet, my fate determined by the whims of others.

Suddenly, without warning, Donna waved Daniel away and snipped off my remaining long ponytail, adding it to the pile on the shelf in front of me. Left behind was a short stump of hair that could barely justify calling itself a ponytail.

‘Ooh, what a cute stubby little thing,’ Daniel claimed, giggling, playfully batting it back and forth. ‘It’s all bouncy.’

The lightness and springiness of my hair felt so bizarre on my crown. The cool air from the overhead fan felt so weird as it caressed the bare back and sides of my head. A wave of nausea washed over me. What had I done?

Conclusion

For a fleeting moment, we all stopped moving and stared into the mirror. It was like a frozen tableau, with no one quite sure what to do or say next.

Finally, Donna released the short stump of hair. It flowed down over my neck behind me and neatly framed my face at the sides, levelling out just below my chin. As promised, it was a chic bob, sleek and stylish, fully concealing the shaved back and sides.

I breathed a sigh of relief. It was not as bad as I had feared. In fact, it was graceful and elegant. There was nothing more to be said.

I thanked Donna effusively and posed for the photo of us hugging each other that she demanded. I paid her the ridiculously small amount the barber asked, leaving her a sizable tip.

And then I left. On my own. Daniel had unsettled me in that grimy little shop, although I was struggling to pinpoint exactly why. So, I decided I needed to be on my own for a while. As I walked out, he seemed unperturbed by my rapid departure.

As I walked past the grimy window of the shop, I saw the two of them conversing while examining my former hair, still laid out on the shelf below the mirror. I wondered, when I next saw Daniel, if he would tell me what became of it.

Epilogue

As I strolled back to the stadium, the doubt began creeping back in. What would the other players think? Would they want to copy me if it proved effective? What would the commentators say? And the sponsors? And the public? It was exhausting.

Later that day, I showed up on the court for a doubles match that the tournament referee had unexpectedly rescheduled for the evening session. Catherine, my doubles partner, was practically my twin in terms of appearance, a similarity that commentators had frequently remarked upon. We had always worn the same designer tennis dresses and styled our long hair in the same way.

‘Coralie! What have you done!’ Catherine exclaimed, stunned and disbelieving.

The light reflected off my shaved skin as I faced her, my fingers playfully twirling the short stump of my ponytail. ‘You need to get used to it,’ I told her excitedly, as the senior player of the pairing, ‘as there’s a lovely lady called Donna waiting to do the same for you so we can remain a unified team.’

The End