Danielle 1 – Seeking the Sweet Smell of Revenge

Prologue

Following the Scent

‘Here comes Miss Allie Titsanhair,’ I murmured to my good friend, Victoria, at half past eight one Monday morning, masking my words from those around us by taking a long puff on my vape.

Victoria – or Tori as I referred to her – on hearing my highly discriminatory nickname for the approaching woman, spluttered on the coffee she was sipping. ‘Why do you call her that, Dani?’

‘It is simple, Tori, I explained. ‘Just look at her. Nose in the air, prancing along like she owns the town … when all she is, is just tits and hair.’

‘Well, Miss Alison Tattershare is our mayor,’ Tori countered, ‘so, even if she does not own the town, she does run it, and with an iron fist too.’

‘And she has stolen my boyfriend too,’ I added sourly. ‘Look at her, not a care in the world,’ I remarked scornfully as she swept past us, making her way to her office in the council buildings.

Her tailored red suit hugged her figure, emphasising her perky breasts. And her artfully styled honey-blonde hair, gently gathered at the crown in a ponytail, tumbled down her back in gentle waves. And the neatly trimmed ends of her tresses bounced from side to side against her pert bottom as she glided along.

‘Good morning, ladies,’ she called out politely, but she barely spared us a glance as her disappearing figure strutted up the lane.

‘And what’s more, she has no idea who I am,’ I grimaced, ‘or that I was with Ethan for over two years before she took him from me!’

‘I know, Dani,’ Tori consoled. ‘You’ve mentioned it before,’ she sighed, trying to make a point, ‘nearly every morning when she passes.’

‘Do you know, Ethan had the cheek to say one of the main reasons he was attracted to her was her long hair,’ I whined. ‘When we were together, I had offered to grow mine longer. But he said short hair suited me and that he preferred it on women anyway. He said he liked me just as I am,’ I recalled wistfully. ‘Liar!’ I spat.

‘I know all that, Danielle,’ Tori said, an edge to her voice. ‘You’ve told me before … frequently …’

‘Sorry,’ I huffed.

‘Look, Dani, Ethan left you months ago,’ Tori calmly reminded me, placing a comforting hand on my arm. ‘Just forget him, Dani. Move on.’

‘What if I can’t?’ I whined.

A look of gleeful menace took over Tori’s features. ‘Then, my dear friend, it’s high time you gained your revenge on the pair of them.’

Cosmic Fusion

Victoria and I had been sitting at the bistro table outside my friend’s shop at the start of a new week as we watched Miss Titsanhair prancing down the lane. When Tori was not busy inside her store, she sat there vaping, sipping coffee, and watching the world go by. When I could, I joined her and first thing in the morning was always the best time for us to catch up, before the arrival of our first customers of the day.

Tori had run Cosmic Fusion for as long as I could remember. I had always thought of her as the definitive “new age girl”, although that epithet was generous regarding her age as she may have been old enough to be my mother. Her shop had aligned itself to every spiritual trend that had come and gone, sometimes successfully, sometimes less so.

Victoria’s strategy ensured longevity for her business even if it evoked “Complete Confusion” for any prospective customer who dared to pop inside for the first time. I had heard prospective customers leaving the shop harshly criticising the goods and services on offer as a spiritual lucky dip. Despite that, often with bemused expressions, they proudly wandered off with a “bag for life” stuffed full of assorted tat that Tori insisted they needed to successfully fuse with the cosmos.

For an older woman, Tori’s fashion choices were frequently bizarre and often debatable. Recently she had readopted her beloved goth-like persona, favouring blacks and purples with her outlandish outfits, and similar choices with her abundant hair.

For the start of the week, she wore a short black dress of lace and satin combined with a red leather corset, fishnet stockings, and thigh-length leather boots. She had arranged her long black hair, freshly infused with red and purple streaks, in a messy updo of sorts, with a long braid trailing over one shoulder and loose tendrils framing her boldly made-up face. On most woman, of any age, the outfit would never have worked, but Tori looked perfectly coordinated and she represented an archetypal “new age girl”.

By contrast, my black jeans and designer top, coupled with a chin-length blonde bob, looked youthful and stylish but, I had to admit, woefully understated.

The Lanes Barbershop

The unlikely friendship between Tori and I had developed from owning adjacent shops. The establishments were in one of the quaint lanes leading from the town’s market square. I had inherited the premises from my father when my parents had taken early retirement and moved away to the seaside. I had spent time with Dad in his shop when I was younger and, even then, Tori had been running Cosmic Fusion.

People had remarked that it seemed a strange juxtaposition to have a new age emporium situated next to a barbershop. However, that said, I could think of no variety of store that would sit comfortably next to Tori’s flamboyant premises. Situated on the other side of Cosmic Fusion was a store selling chocolates and greeting cards, and that seemed even more of an uncomfortable match.

The Lanes Barbershop was the unimaginatively titled establishment that I owned and where I worked. Dad had run it as a traditional gentlemen’s barbershop, as did his dad before him. It was small, with only two chairs, and for a great deal of the time I worked in the shop alone. However, I could call on part-time help at busy times or on the rare occasions when I wanted to take a short vacation. The shop was basic, but it was clean and functional, and there was always a steady stream of customers for my modestly priced services.

Dad had always made it clear that he would continue to run the establishment in the traditional way, keeping all the old customs alive. More than anything else, that included a policy of discouraging women from entering the shop who believed they had the right to expect a cheap haircut. As time passed, when females became more combative – demanding the right to the same haircuts as men and insisting they pay the same prices – he accepted it was time for him to retire. That, and the fact he was unable to create the fashionable styles that young women asked for!

I had brightened the place up when I took it over and made it appear less male-centric. In addition to the training Dad had given me, I had pursued further qualifications. So, I was happy for women to request my services, and I did make it a policy of charging them the same price as the men. Despite that, most women disliked the idea of entering a barbershop, so my clientele were still predominantly male.

Despite my efforts to create an inclusive atmosphere, whenever Tori passed over my threshold, she humorously concealed her long hair as best she could. She would also dramatically cross herself to show she was keeping me at bay as if I were the devil incarnate. Often, she quipped that I had to lock away all the cutting implements before she would enter. It was all good-natured banter but there was no doubt that her remarks were to conceal a distrust of the hairdressing profession.

Friendship

Our business, our appearance, and our age were in complete contrast, but we were always the best of friends. She was my rock when Ethan left me for the mayor, and I would never forget that.

When, earlier that morning, I reminded Tori of my unwillingness to forget him, I was surprised and intrigued when she suggested I should gain my revenge on the pair of them. However, I had no idea on how to go about it.

Monday – Brainstorming

‘So, Tori, how do you suggest I get my revenge on Allie Titsanhair,’ I asked my best friend, contemplatively drawing on my vape.

‘Well,’ she giggled meaningfully, preparing to regale me with her best ideas. However, without any warning, alarm darkened her features as she glowered intently down the lane. ‘It’s Mr Nice-But-Dim!’ she blurted out, jumping to her feet in a panic. ‘So, I’m just popping indoors for a moment until he’s gone past.’

And, just like that, Tori bolted for the door of her emporium, and she disappeared in a flash.

Swiftly approaching the bistro table was the cause of her hurried departure. A gangling chap in his mid-thirties had appeared. He wore an ill-fitting suit made from a cheap grey material with shiny patches in places. A similar description could apply to his hair. It crept unstylishly over his collar in straggly layers, while he employed the sparser strands towards his crown to conceal his shiny bald patch. As he was taller than most people, his strategy for disguising his thinning hair worked surprisingly well unless, that is, he leaned over. With me lazing at the table, his head dipped before addressing me so, unfortunately, his barely obscured shining dome was dazzling me in the sunlight.

‘Hello, er … you,’ he greeted me anonymously, having never bothered to remember my name despite him passing by most mornings. ‘I thought I saw Victoria sitting here as I walked up the lane.’

‘Phone call,’ I remarked brusquely, jerking my head in the direction of the shop interior.

‘Oh, bother, how long will she be?’ he asked, peering down anxiously at his wristwatch. ‘I have an important meeting to attend concerning waste management.’

‘Oh, you’re a binman, are you?’ I acknowledged, knowing full well that he was not. ‘Or should that be a refuse collector? Or operative?’

‘No!’ he snapped indignantly. ‘I am the town council’s waste management coordinator,’ he declared pompously.

‘Oh, I see. So, you tell the binmen where to go and what to do,’ I clarified innocently, doing my best not to laugh.

‘No, no, no!’ he huffed. ‘Well, sort of … anyway … er, you, this all very tiresome. How much longer will Victoria be?’

How did he expect me to know, I wondered.

Tori had received a considerable number of “phone calls” whenever her potential suitor had approached. Indeed, every morning that she was quick enough to spot him coming! So, it was astonishing that Mr Nice-but-Dim had not taken her polite, but unsubtle, hint that she had no interest in him. Besides, she was so different in appearance and outlook to him that any suggestion of mutual attraction was absurd. Despite Tori’s respectful, but persistent, knockbacks, on the rare occasions when they had spoken, he still endeavoured to impress her and convince her to join him on a date.

As I was not Tori’s social secretary, I shrugged in response to his questioning, drawing enthusiastically on my vape. Whisked away by a gust of wind that swept along the lane, a cloud of fruit-flavoured vapour enveloped the annoying man.

He gave an irritated little cough. ‘Well, really!’ he complained, vigorously waving away the smoke. ‘Look, just tell Victoria that Colin Jones was passing, and he is keen to catch up, will you … er … will you?’

Rudely, the slimy little toad did not bother with a “please”, and he was still unable to remember my name. Noting that along with his dreadful appearance, it was unsurprising that I disliked him so much, despite not really knowing him at all.

‘Sure, Nice – … er, Colin,’ I shrugged, releasing another cloud of vapour, managing to avoid using his nickname. Watching him clumsily scampering away from the smoke, using his briefcase to shield the side of his face, provided me with an amusing reward for having put up with his inane chatter for a whole minute.

‘Thanks, Dani,’ my friend said when she carefully peered up the lane from her doorway, ensuring he was unlikely to turn around for one last look. ‘He is rather nice, and the attention of someone younger is rather flattering, but I really do wish he would leave me alone … especially as he must appreciate that we would be completely incompatible.’

I begged to differ about his niceness, but I kept my thoughts to myself. So, I simply acknowledged Tori’s assessment with a respectful nod. And, following my friend’s lead, I decided to try harder to avoid the obnoxious man in the future.

Monday – Planning

‘Now, back to business,’ Tori grinned. ‘From all you have said, I have decided the most appropriate way for you to get revenge on them both is for the mayor to lose her hair,’ she announced bluntly.

‘Right,’ I guffawed, nearly choking on the vapour I had been inhaling.

Tori scowled at me until I stopped coughing. ‘You do want my help, do you?’ she asked indignantly. I nodded apologetically and adopted a more engaged pose. ‘Well, there’s no doubt she would miss her hair as it a major constituent of her image.’

‘Agreed, along with her tits,’ I quipped.

‘Quite so, Dani,’ my patient friend accepted, ‘but I don’t propose doing anything about those,’ she tittered. ‘Obviously, she will be devastated by the loss of her hair. Equally, I am confident your ex will also be distraught when he sees the change in his partner’s appearance, given that Ethan left you because of his attraction to his new love’s long hair.’

‘It’s a great plan, Tori,’ I mocked. ‘So, next time she’s passing I simply drag her into my shop, tie her down, and give her a short-back-and-sides, do I?’

‘Well, Dani, sort of …’ my friend said, slowly nodding and smiling enigmatically. ‘So, just leave it with me for now …’

Tuesday – Discussing

The following day, as I strolled up the lane with two takeaway lattes, I saw Tori examining a small box at the bistro table outside her shop. It was the day after we had discussed my desire for revenge on my ex-partner and his new girlfriend. While Tori had told me that she had an idea in mind, I expected she would soon forget it despite the notion having so much to commend it.

I sat down at the bistro table and handed Tori her coffee. Before Tori could speak, Miss Allie Titsanhair came strutting up the lane, nose in the air and long ponytail flowing behind, as always.

‘Good morning, ladies,’ she called out in greeting without even looking in our direction. Her thick and wavy blonde ponytail, swung from side to side as she moved, the ends swishing against the tight black skirt that stretched over her pert bottom.

‘After what we discussed yesterday, I really do wish I could drag her in my shop and chop all of that off,’ I murmured discretely from behind my raised coffee cup. I was referring to my friend’s recent proposal that it would be a superb way of exacting revenge on the town’s new “golden couple”, as my ex-boyfriend would be equally devastated by her transformation.

Tori pushed the small box on the table towards me. ‘Do not worry, my friend, I had not forgotten our chat. All you need to do is use this,’ she giggled.

Glancing inside the open box, all I saw was vape pen like the device I used regularly. I looked back at her questioningly. ‘What do you mean?’

‘It’s filled with a … well, er, a special liquid … one that I obtained from a friend … of a friend …’ she winked.

I nodded. Experience had shown me that Tori had a considerable number of dubious acquaintances, and it was best not to press her for details.

‘You hold it like a normal vape, then press the trigger with it pointing away from you, towards a person,’ she explained. ‘Then you wait until your target breathes it in but, whatever you do, don’t inhale it yourself.’

‘Oh – kayyyyyy,’ I drawled, already concerned about the worrying pursuit that I might be getting myself into.

‘The targeted person will become, let us say, suggestible – or more malleable – to your ideas, allowing you to take revenge in whatever way you choose. The effect differs between people, and it is not like putting them in a nonconsensual hypnotic trance or anything -’

‘Ah, that alright then,’ I remarked sarcastically.

Tori scowled at me until I motioned with a finger that I had zipped my lips and adopted a more serious expression.

‘The full effect gradually wears off after a couple of hours or so and, once it does, the target won’t remember anything that happened during that period,’ Tori stated proudly. ‘Well, minor details might stick but they will not remember where they were, what they were doing, or who they were with. Their mind may try to make sense of what has happened by concocting a story to satisfy them – a bit like joining the dots in a kid’s puzzle game – but they will not recall lost details.’

I looked at my friend sceptically, turning the device over in my hand. ‘So, it’s like those pills that unscrupulous dates might drop in our drinks when we’re out on the town to let them have their wicked way with us?’

‘Yes,’ Tori nodded. ‘Well, sort of …’

‘I find it hard to believe those claims your friend makes for it,’ I scoffed. ‘Where did this friend … of a friend … get it from and, more importantly, ‘did you keep the receipt?’ I joked.

‘The friend of a friend knows someone who has an acquaintance somewhere in south America, and it is made from some rare plant … or was it the slime of an undiscovered frog … or both … but something like that,’ Tori explained. ‘And, unsurprisingly, it was a cash deal and no receipt,’ she added primly. ‘Anyway, don’t you worry, Dani, it’ll work, I guarantee.’

I gave a long sigh, avoiding the unanswerable question of how an undiscovered frog could have contributed to the mix. I had grown familiar with a profusion of Tori’s strange notions but, knowing she had even stranger friends, a tiny part of me wanted to believe her.

As I contemplated the dubious claims and potential consequences of using the “frog juice”, I looked up and glanced down the lane. Straight away, what I saw was enough to quell my musings.

‘Oh no, Tori, Mr Nice-but-Dim has seen you,’ I snapped in alarm. ‘Get inside, now, so I can tell him you’re answering today’s important phone call!’

Tuesday – Preparing

But my entreaties to my friend had come too late!

Mr Nice-but-Dim had lolloped towards us and was looming over our bistro table. On this occasion, Tori had simply smiled at my announcement, and she had shown no inclination to move. Given her effort to always avoid him in the past, I found her relaxed behaviour astonishing.

‘Hello, Victoria,’ Colin uttered, greeting my friend with a flamboyant wave of his hand that, absurdly, made him appear to be bowing to royalty.

Although I was not surprised, he snubbed me completely.

‘Hello, Nice-but … er, Colin,’ Tori replied, catching herself before fully revealing our private nickname for the bad-mannered oaf.

‘We appear to keep missing each other, don’t we?’ he chuckled senselessly, sounding like a donkey with a bad throat. ‘Did she,’ jabbing a finger in my direction, without even looking at me, ‘pass on my good wishes yesterday?’

‘Yes, she did, Colin,’ Tori said amiably, rolling her new vaping device between her fingers.

‘You were on the phone, yesterday …’ he pressed, barely managing to keep all the pent-up irritation from his voice. ‘Again!’ he emphasised, accompanied by his strident wheezing laugh.

‘Yes, Colin, I was,’ my friend calmly fibbed.

At that moment, a strong gust of wind blew down the lane. Comically, like a clown at the circus, it lifted the longer strands of his hair that he had plastered across his crown. The very strands that he had contrived to disguise his shiny bald patch. ‘Oh, bother,’ he grumbled, under his breath, unsuccessfully attempting to smooth down his wayward locks with the hand that was not gripping his precious briefcase.

We studied his predicament carefully, both just managing not to laugh. ‘Colin, you should pop in to see Danielle and ask her to give your hair a little trim,’ Tori suggested casually. ‘It does seem to have grown rather long.’

‘I much prefer to keep my hair long, thank you very much,’ Colin said pompously. ‘I like to stay fashionable,’ he added, with gravitas, even though the outcome was completely the opposite. ‘Besides, who’s Danielle?’

Tori pointed at my shop next door, and Colin followed the direction she was pointing. He stared, then burst into braying laughter. ‘A barbershop!’ he scoffed. ‘I go to a proper salon. Hairlines, in the high street, not down a back alley. At Hairlines they know how to style and trim long hair,’ he added haughtily. ‘No, never a barber!’ he sneered.

My anger was bubbling up inside. Occasionally I had slightly awkward customers whose concerns I could easily resolve, but rarely did I meet anyone quite so rude. I instantly decided that if he ever tried to venture inside my shop then I would evict him and give him a lifetime ban.

‘You do know that this is Danielle, the owner?’ Tori enlightened him, nodding towards me.

‘No,’ he shrugged disinterestedly, barely giving me a glance. ‘So, Victoria, when -’

I had judged that the boorish lout might be about to ask my friend out on a date, but he stopped speaking when a violent fit of coughing suddenly struck him. I had initiated his discomfort by purposely firing up my vape with the aim, like the day before, of interrupting his dull monologue. Satisfyingly, a cloud of fruit-flavoured vapour rode the breeze and completely encircled him.

Although I had not inhaled deeply, I sensed the aroma was different from my usual vape liquid. I suddenly realised that, in my haste to save Tori from the oaf’s attention, I had seized her doctored device. However, his sudden reaction to the vapour had been identical to breathing in the untreated smoke the day before. It gave my friend a reprieve from his unwanted attention.

‘Well, really!’ he complained, waving away the smoke with exaggerated flapping of his hand. His rapid movement also resulted in his hair falling into further disarray, flicking into his eyes.

Tori and I were trying to suppress our laughter as we casually observed his predicament. Then Tori’s eyes lit up when she saw that it was her vaping device that I held in my hand. She urged me on with a nod in Colin’s direction, suggesting she still believed that her friend’s claims for the juice were correct. I mentally shrugged, reasoning that I had I had nothing to lose by experimenting with it.

‘Colin, why not follow Victoria’s suggestion,’ I ventured. Mentioning my friend’s name proved sufficient to pause his theatrical antics and stare at me intently. ‘You should allow me to examine your hair and offer you some recommendations?’

Tuesday – Tempting

Colin’s perpetually agitated expression had eased. He looked more relaxed than usual, but far more gormless.

‘Victoria’s suggestion?’ he mused. ‘Thank you,’ he said politely, his mark of appreciation leaving me to realise that there was a first time for everything! ‘But I usually go to Hairlines in the high street where they know what to do with my longer, more fashionable hair,’ he repeated from earlier, dashing my hopes of the vape liquid having had any effect.

‘Danielle is very experienced,’ Tori chimed in. ‘She will know exactly what to do with your longer hair, especially in these windy conditions.’

Colin cranked his head around to face the object of his affection. ‘Experienced, you say, Victoria?’ Tori nodded. ‘And it is remarkably windy today, so a little change couldn’t hurt, could it?’

‘No, Colin, not at all,’ Tori smiled. ‘Go for it!’

‘Thank you, Victoria,’ Colin smiled. ‘Yes, please, Danielle,’ Colin said, after returning his soppy gaze towards me.

Then, before I realised what was happening, Mr Nice-but-Dim had marched to the threshold of my door and was waiting patiently for me to join him.

Tuesday – Consulting

Had Mr Nice-but-Dim reformed, I mused? Or had the aroma of a rare leaf – or the slime of an undiscovered frog – turned Colin’s mind upside down, I wondered? Despite my earlier thoughts of banning the inconsiderate oaf from my shop, I eased past him and invited him inside.

Tori followed us in and perched herself on the waiting bench in the window, looking at me expectantly.

‘Please take a seat, Colin,’ I encouraged, as he stood inside the shop looking lost.

He looked around him, his expression flitting between vague interest in his unfashionable surroundings and puzzlement at how he got there. He screwed up his eyes as if trying hard to remember something. ‘Er, but I have a meeting to go to work at work,’ he remarked vaguely, pointing at the clock on my wall.

‘Delayed by a few moments won’t be a problem, I’m sure, Colin,’ Tori called out.

‘No, of course, it won’t,’ he agreed determinedly. ‘After all, I am the waste management coordinator,’ he added pompously, puffing out his chest.

‘Indeed, you are, Colin,’ I agreed, trying not laugh at his snobbish declaration. ‘Now, please take seat.’

‘Thank you.’ His neutral expression returned, and he slipped past me before perching on my barber’s chair.

‘Given the windy conditions at this time of year, and the length of your hair, I suggest you consider something much shorter,’ I said, noting his greasy hair but feeling a reluctance to touch it.

‘Oh, but I like, er …’ he began, the confused and distressed look returning to cloud his features. ‘Yes, well, Vic … er, my girlfriend … no, I don’t have a girlfriend … but someone else suggested that too,’ he blurted out, his mind clearly in turmoil, despite being able to clearly see the object his affection reflected in the mirror.

‘So?’ I prompted, an edge to my voice.

‘Okay,’ he chirped happily, looking gormless once more. ‘Go for it,’ he laughed, completely out of character, unconsciously paraphrasing Tori’s suggestion from earlier. It was in total contradiction to his frequently expressed view concerning his attractiveness.

‘I will be happy to “go for it”, Colin, although I wonder,’ I said, pausing momentarily, ‘if you may also wish to consider addressing another pressing matter that your previous hairdresser has not managed as well as they might.’

‘Huh?’ he grunted, a look of confusion once again taking over his bland features as he tried to decipher my deliberately cryptic assertion.

‘The matter of your thinning hair on -’

‘Excuse me!’ he interjected indignantly. ‘My hair is not thinning … it is just, er, less thick in places … and, er, my hairdresser has it under control … disguised … and … um …’

‘But Colin, Danielle is your hairdresser now,’ Tori chimed in, pointing at me for Colin’s benefit. ‘So, shouldn’t you to listen to her?’

‘Er …’ he grunted, screwing up his eyes, concentrating hard, elusively searching for the ability to understand our rationale. Finally, he sighed, let out a braying laugh. ‘Of course she is, Vic- … er, so she must do what’s necessary,’ he said confidently. ‘Er, which is?’ he added with far less assurance, as his mind faltered once more.

‘To avoid you displaying a thinning patch then we must shave off all your hair, Colin,’ I stated matter-of-factly. ‘Down to the wood, as we say in the trade.’

‘Yes, of course. Silly me,’ he brayed again, with no evidence of any conflict in his mind. ‘Go for it, Danielle. Down to the wood, please.’

Colin’s passive, gormless expression returned as he stared straight ahead into the mirror. I draped a cape over him and tied it securely around his neck. I took my sharpest and most powerful hairclippers from the hook by the mirror, and I removed the guard. An insistent buzzing sound filled the shop.

Tuesday – Buzzing

‘Bees!’ Colin unexpectedly blurted out, with no alteration to his passive features.

‘No, Colin, it is my hairclippers. They make a similar noise,’ I explained. ‘I will use these to buzz all your hair off.’

‘Of course. Silly me,’ he whinnied. ‘Buzz, buzz, buzz … down to the wood.’

‘Exactly,’ I confirmed, placing the shining blade of the Osters against the hairline above his forehead. Without pausing to hear more of his inane comments, I thrust the clippers through his straggly hair, over his crown, and not stopping until I reached his neck. A neat furrow of pure white skin remained in the wake of the clippers’ blade.

‘Oh, did I want, er … that’s, um … that is …’ he murmured, screwing up his eyes in puzzlement at what he was seeing.

‘Down to the wood, Colin,’ Tori piped up from behind us. ‘That’s what it is.’

‘Of course it is, Vi- … but … yes, white wood,’ he nodded, looking pleased with himself at providing himself with an adequate explanation. As I prepared for another pass, he peered closely at Tori in the mirror. ‘Thanks for putting my mind to rest, um, you … er, you are very pretty,’ he extolled smoothly, despite looking puzzled, ‘and I am sure I would have remembered your name if I had been fortunate to have met you before?’

Not only had the vapour caused him to lose his memory and his reasoning but also, it seemed, his inhibitions!

‘It doesn’t matter about my name,’ Tori explained, forcing herself not to burst out laughing.

‘Oh, doesn’t it?’ he questioned thoughtfully, as the clippers widened the furrow across the top of his head ‘No, I suppose not,’ he brayed. ‘Oh, look, more shiny white wood.’

Although I had brought it upon myself – or, rather, my friend had – Colin’s mindless commentary was becoming increasingly wearing. With a speed that came from all my years of experience, I swiftly removed the rest of the smiling oaf’s straggly hair leaving a remarkably large pile of his straggly locks surrounding the chair.

I had been contemplating lathering up his head to give him the smoothest finish and, more importantly, the whitest head that would function as a beacon to his freshly bald status. However, in the interests of expediency, I decided against it. So, without comment, I exchanged the Osters for a foil shaver that would give a similar result but far more quickly.

‘More bees,’ Colin remarked, his expression staying neutral, as I turned the device on,

‘Yes, Colin,’ I lied, having found it was easier – and quieter – to go along with his absurd flow of consciousness.

He smiled inanely, looking smug, having explained the noise to his own satisfaction.

I enjoyed removing every scrap of the pale shadow covering Colin’s scalp after the clippers had done their work, revealing the dazzlingly white scalp below. I massaged a healthy dollop of oil into his skin, then polished it vigorously until his head shone brightly.

‘There we are, Colin. All done,’ I announced, flicking away the cape and then holding up a mirror so he could view his transformed appearance from all angles. ‘As smooth as a billiard ball.’

Tuesday – Polishing

‘I’m, er … bald,’ Colin murmured quizzically, a tentative hand gliding over his silky head as he sought confirmation. ‘It’s all, sort of, slick … um, smooth … er, white,’ he mumbled, describing his head accurately. ‘How, er … I mean … bald?’

‘As bald as a baby’s bottom,’ Tori piped up, causing us both to snigger.

‘It’s no laughing, er … not a matter for, um …’ Colin burbled, the smile pasted on his face slipping as he took in the magnitude of his transformed appearance. I began to feel anxious at how he was going to react. ‘Where is my hair? You should not …’

‘Were you trying to say it doesn’t matter, Colin?’ Tori prompted.

He screwed up his eyes, concentrating hard. ‘Yes, exactly,’ he agreed, relief flooding his features having resolved the worry he was experiencing over his predicament. ‘I’m as bald as a baby’s bottom,’ he nodded sagely.

I put down the hand mirror and invited him to stand. ‘You certainly are, Colin,’ I confirmed before I took a deep breath and told him the cost of his haircut. I thought I was pushing it, but Tori winked at me in approval.

Colin lifted his briefcase and produced his wallet. He counted out cash that comfortably exceeded the amount that I had asked for. ‘Thank you, that’s very reasonable, er … of you … please keep the change.’

‘Thanks, and now that your brain is unencumbered by all that hair, then perhaps you will remember my name in the future,’ I suggested sarcastically.

He screwed up his eyes as he tried to understand my confusing proposition.

‘I’m sure he will, Danielle,’ Tori piped up, suppressing her laughter.

‘Of course I will,’ he snapped indignantly, ‘er, Dan … um …’

‘Never mind, Colin,’ I said, putting him out of his misery. ‘And do not forget to purchase a foil shaver if you do not have one at home. Or even a specialised head shaving kit, to keep yourself bald.’

‘As bald as a baby’s bottom,’ he agreed, looking curiously pleased with himself. ‘Right you are.’

Unfortunately, he showed no inclination to leave, just standing in the middle of the shop while dumbly staring at himself in the mirror.

‘Cheerio, Colin,’ I prompted breezily.

‘Cheerio, er … you,’ he echoed, marching to the door. ‘And you, er … er, pretty one.’

With that, he pushed the door and was gone. Or, rather, he stood in the narrow lane outside our shops, looking first one way and then the other, appearing confused as to where he should go next.

Down the lane was where Mr Nice-but-Dim had come from, and up the lane was where he could find the council offices where he worked. He took three steps in the wrong direction then, mercifully, spun around and slowly made his way up the lane.

I remember thinking how I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall when he arrived at work, and his colleagues noted his transformed appearance.

Tuesday – Assessing

‘Well, Tori, I do not feel you need to ask for your money back on the “frog juice”,’ I chuckled.

Tori giggled. ‘Yes, it does seem to work rather well.’

‘But I do feel guilty about the unsuspecting oaf ending up bald, especially as he wasn’t the prime target,’ I said regretfully.

‘Why, Dani? He looks a hundred times nicer without the comb-over,’ Tori asserted, ‘and he would even be able to tempt me on a date … well, if he had a better taste in clothes. Anyway, he has always been exceedingly rude to you, forgetting your name, and insulting your shop.’

‘True enough, Tori,’ I nodded my head sagely, in agreement.

‘And now, after a trial run, you know exactly what to do when you next see Miss Titsanhair,’ Tori pointed out, rubbing her hands together with glee, ‘so you can finally get your revenge on her and your ex.’

‘I suppose so,’ I hedged, secretly wondering if I had the confidence to repeat the exercise with the town’s mayor who was much more assertive. ‘Let’s go outside, finish our coffee, and we can have a chat about that.’

We settled back down at our bistro table in the lane, and I was careful to put Tori’s customised vaping device back in its protective box, before taking a long drag on my own.

‘I don’t believe it,’ Tori blurted out. I followed her gaze up the lane, and I did not believe it either. Staggering slowly away from the council offices was a familiar-looking man whose smooth bald head was brightly reflecting the morning sun.

Tuesday – Reassessing

Expecting Colin to accost us as he got closer, Tori and I exchanged astonished looks when he meandered right past us, looking vague with no sign of recognition.

Worried about him, Tori jumped to her feet and approached him. ‘Excuse me, are feeling alright?’

Colin looked at my friend blankly. ‘No, not too good. I was on my way to work … and, er, then I was not … but now … well, truthfully, I am feeling a bit lightheaded …’

‘I’m not surprised without all that hair on top,’ I giggled quietly, still seated at the bistro table, dazzled by his white scalp. Despite Tori subtly admonishing me, I struggled to suppress my laughter at his accidental double meaning.

‘Look, why don’t you continue down the lane and get yourself a coffee,’ Tori said, pointing out the café where we always bought our beverages, ‘and then rest for a while … until you’re feeling more yourself … then you can go into work.’

‘Thanks, I will,’ Colin murmured, setting off in the direction Tori had shown. Then he turned around. ‘Er, excuse me, you look familiar. Do I know you?’

‘Probably not,’ Tori said, laughing off his remark.

‘Oh, right, I thought I did,’ screwing up his eyes, looking confused. ‘You are a very kind lady … and, er, a very pretty one,’ he added bashfully, before swiftly turning around and meandering down the lane towards the café.

Tuesday – Reviewing

‘Are you sure this stuff is safe to use, Tori,’ I questioned nervously, tapping the box containing the customised vape device. Although Colin’s behaviour had been amusing and I could easily convince myself he deserved it, I was concerned that we may have gone too far.

‘Of course,’ she declared confidently, although her slight frown betrayed her. ‘You could see the effect was already wearing off. He could not even remember going into your shop and -’

‘But he didn’t even know who you were,’ I pointed out, ‘or even seem to be aware that I had just shaved his head.’

‘True,’ Tori agreed pensively. ‘But he did remember I was pretty,’ she chirped conceitedly.

I could not help but laugh at my friend’s unwavering confidence and cheerful outlook on life.

With no customers having appeared, we settled back down at our bistro table to check our phones and drain the dregs of our cold coffees.

After occupying ourselves for ten minutes a strident voice interrupted us. ‘Hello, Victoria!’

A long shadow passed over the table. I looked up to see Colin looming over us, looking much more his old self … well, apart from the lack of hair.

‘Hello, Colin,’ we chorused, both startled by his reappearance.

He smiled at Tori and, as before, he completely ignored me. I was relieved that the old Mr Nice-but-Dim was back. Well, apart from his absence of hair.

‘Feeling better?’ Tori asked timidly, although his behaviour and attitude suggested he was back to his usual self.

‘I’ve not been unwell,’ he muttered indignantly, despite looking momentarily confused. Shaking his head, as if clearing unwelcome thoughts, he continued breezily. ‘It is nice to see you again, Victoria. It has been quite a while.’

It was ten minutes earlier, I mused. Not only had he forgotten coming into my barbershop, but also, he did not recall having seen us at all that morning. Tori and I exchanged curious glances, but we chose to remain silent.

‘Yes, it has been ages,’ Colin droned on. ‘We appear to keep missing each other, don’t we?’ he chuckled senselessly, reprising the sound of a donkey with a bad throat. ‘Did she,’ jabbing a finger in my direction, without even looking at me, ‘pass on my good wishes from yesterday?’

‘Yes, she did, Colin,’ Tori said amiably, choosing not to remind him that all three of us had just spent an interesting half an hour together in my barbershop.

‘You must be very popular, to receive so many phone calls,’ he pressed.

‘Yes, I am,’ my friend agreed, straight-faced, but I was biting my knuckles to prevent myself laughing.

A gust of wind blew down the lane. ‘Oh, bother!’ he exclaimed. He quickly put down the coffee cup he was holding. His hand automatically shot upwards, out of habit, to tame the clown-like wayward strands on his head … except they were no longer there! He screwed up his eyes, and he looked incredibly confused. Both Tori and I looked at him blankly.

He shrugged, shaking head, then picked up his coffee. ‘So, Victoria, when -’

Spotting that he might he was about to ask my friend out on a date, I needed to do something. I was unwilling to interrupt his amorous advances by enveloping him in a further cloud of vapour, doctored or otherwise. So, I tapped the clock showing on my phone’s screen. ‘My, is that the time! I have so much work to do today,’ I remarked impatiently, jumping to my feet.

Colin, startled, reacted by peering down at his watch. ‘Oh bother, I have an important meeting to attend, and I am late. I will be seeing you, Victoria and, er … and you,’ he said, before turning away from us and facing up the lane towards the council offices.

Tuesday – Concluding

‘Well, Mr Nice-but-Dim seems to be back to his old self,’ I chuckled. ‘Just as dim but looking rather nicer without all that scruffy hair.’

‘True enough,’ Tori contemplated, ‘But I wonder how he’ll get on explaining his fresh new appearance to his colleagues?’

‘And to himself,’ I added. Then I had a wicked thought, recollecting an occurrence from when he was in the barbershop. ‘Don’t forget to be bald and masterful in that meeting, Colin,’ I yelled as he slowly meandered along the lane.

‘Did you mean bold?’ Tori asked, quick to clarify. I shook my head, then waited.

He paused, looking around him, but not back at us. ‘As bald as a baby’s bottom,’ Colin announced to the great amusement of those people walking past him but giving no sign that he knew what he had said.

We both sniggered as he shrugged, then continued his journey.

‘Well,’ I said, rubbing my hands together eagerly, ‘let us hope the “frog juice” will be just as effective on Miss Allie Titsanhair when we see her tomorrow!’

To be continued