Aside from that initial outburst, you wouldn’t have a clue of the pain Rita’s been going through since her niece died. It reminds me how far I still have to go if I truly want to become a positive person.
Was Iris like her aunt when she was at work? Probably not to quite the same degree, bearing in mind she was a doctor rather than a hairdresser. And yet I bet she always had a huge smile for whoever walked into her surgery and a lovely way of putting her patients at ease.
I wonder if she’s looking down on us now from wherever she is, a big smile on her lips and eyes twinkling. I’d like to think so. I really hope she’d be delighted to see this happening in her honour.
I make sure Tommy ends up in my chair and the first thing I do is thank him for his earlier intervention.
‘Oh, you’re welcome, pal,’ he says. ‘I think I recognise you, by the way. Have we met before?’
I assumed he’d come tonight because he remembered chatting to me, but apparently not. Mind you, he must have spoken to loads of people since we met. Why would I have stood out?
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘A little while back. You were reading Ian Rankin.’
‘Okay,’ he replies, narrowing his eyes like he’s trying but can’t quite remember.
‘Funnily enough, I dug out another Rebus novel that I wanted to pass on to you, but you seemed to move spots.’
‘Really? That was kind of you. Yeah, I went for a wander, but I’m back now, like the proverbial bad penny.’
‘Hang on,’ I say, remembering I left the paperback in a drawer here at the shop. I dig it out and hand it to him. ‘Here you go. Hope you’ve not read it.’
‘Brilliant,’ he replies, grinning. ‘No, I’ve not read it. Not for years, anyway. That’s amazing. Thanks so much.’ He pauses before adding, in a more solemn tone: ‘I can’t believe you thought of me like that. I … really appreciate the gesture. People don’t often do such things for you when you’re on the streets. Most passers-by barely notice you’re there, never mind see you as a fellow human being. It’s, um, really kind of you, really thoughtful.’
‘No problem. There are more if you want them. Let me know. I’m afraid I don’t have any of the most recent ones, though, as it was my mum who collected them and she passed away before they came out. I should buy the new ones myself, I suppose, but I struggle to find time to read these days. Too many other distractions.’
What I don’t say is that it wouldn’t feel right not being able to chat to Mum after finishing one of these books, like I always used to. Those mother-and-son talks, chewing over the highlights and so on, were always half the fun.
‘Sorry about your mother,’ Tommy says, which I acknowledge with an appreciative nod. ‘Are you sure it’s okay for me to have this, if it was hers? Would you like it back after I’ve finished?’
‘Of course it’s all right,’ I say. ‘Books are meant to be read – not to gather dust on a shelf. And no, there’s no need to return it. Maybe you can find someone else to pass it on to instead. Mum would be happy to know it was being enjoyed.’
I look his long, shaggy hair up and down. ‘So what are we doing today? Would you like me to take off a little bit or a lot?’
‘It’s been a long time since I visited a barber,’ he replies.
‘I guessed as much.’
‘No, but really a long time.’ He clears his throat. ‘To put it into context, my last haircut was a number four with the clippers on top and a two on the back and sides.’
I look at the length of his hair now, which is well past his shoulders, and give a low whistle of surprise. ‘Seriously? That’s, um … wow. And no scissors to it at all in the meantime?’
He shakes his head and strokes his bushy beard with his right hand. ‘This thing’s been growing for a while too, although I have trimmed it once or twice when it was getting annoying.’
He eyes himself in the mirror. ‘I look like a proper hippy, don’t I? Oh, let’s cut it all off.’
I raise an eyebrow. ‘Are you sure? You might find it cold outside without all that hair to insulate you.’
‘Stuff it. I’ve got a woolly hat I can wear if necessary. Give me a four and a two, for old times’ sake – and maybe a quick beard trim too, if that’s possible.’
‘Really? That’s pretty short, especially compared to now.’
‘No, I’m definite. Let’s go for it.’
So I do – and the man who leaves the barbershop after I’ve finished is almost unrecognisable from the one who walked in. Waving goodbye, I joke: ‘How will I know you next time I see you, Tommy?’
He holds up the paperback and grins. ‘I’ll be the one reading this. Thanks for everything, Luke. You have a great night.’
CHAPTER 18
We finish about an hour later than planned, once we’ve finally got through everyone.
The amount of hair swept up is truly impressive – way more than a normal day’s worth. That’s not a huge surprise, though, considering how long it’s been since most of these guys last had a proper cut. Plus there were three of us cutting for much of this evening, whereas normally there’s only me.
To her credit, Nora’s still here and she’s even been getting her hands dirty, helping with the clean-up operation.
‘Pleased?’ she asks me, leaning on the broom she’s been using on the floor.
‘Definitely,’ I say, ‘and totally knackered. I can’t believe how much your articles helped get the word out there on the street. Do you think it’ll be this busy at every session we do from now on?’
‘Only time will tell,’ Nora says. ‘I suspect it will ease off to a more comfortable level once the initial buzz dies down. It was pretty manic this evening, wasn’t it?’
I mime staggering backwards in exhaustion. ‘Whatever do you mean?’
As happy as I am about how today has turned out, especially compared to the previous occasion, I do hope Nora’s right. Going forward, I can’t expect to rely on the good will of others, particularly Rita and Sharon, to be able to cope. What I’d really like is to be able to get things to a level where I can manage alone, like I do with paying customers during the day.
‘Are you still planning to do this fortnightly?’ Nora asks.
‘Yeah, I think so, for now. In the long term, we’ll have to see how it pans out. Thanks for helping tonight, by the way. I didn’t expect that.’
‘You’re welcome. I’ve enjoyed myself. Plus I’ve got a fair bit of extra material from chatting to people today and taking photos, so hopefully I’ll have something good to tout elsewhere. I’ll let you know how I get on.’
Lowering her voice, she asks: ‘Everything all right between you and Rita? She looked pretty angry earlier.’
‘Yeah, yeah. Bit of a misunderstanding, that’s all.’ I say no more for fear of rocking the boat. So far Rita’s been fine with Nora – and I’d like to keep it that way.
‘Quite a character, isn’t she?’ Nora adds. ‘It’s great that she got involved.’
‘I know. And I’d never have managed without her and Sharon. They really saved my bacon.’
I pull Rita for a chat later, after Nora has gone. ‘I can’t thank you and Sharon enough for tonight,’ I say, ‘especially considering your initial feelings. I couldn’t believe my eyes when you came back to help. I now see where Iris got some of her charitable nature from.’
She shakes her red curls out of her face. ‘It’s not what I expected to happen either, but it looks like I misjudged you again, Luke. Sorry for biting your head off. I’ve been so up and down since Iris died. I saw red after reading the article in the paper – that picture of you on the front page and Iris being tied into it all. I mistook it as a publicity stunt. I wanted to stop you before it even began, but thanks to my car breaking down, I didn’t arrive until it was well underway. I’m glad, with hindsight; if I hadn’t seen everyone waiting in line, I’m not sure I’d have understood.’
‘It was wrong of me not to talk to you first,’ I reply. ‘I can only apol
ogise again for that.’
‘Let’s put it behind us, Luke. Do you know what? As shattered as I am now, I’ve really enjoyed myself. It felt great to be able to put my skills to good use. Despite everything I said earlier, I think Iris would be as pleased as punch to know that she inspired you to do this. They were such nice blokes. My heart goes out to them. Anyone could end up homeless. All it takes sometimes, by the sound of things, is a bit of rotten luck or some bad decisions.’
When they leave, I reiterate my huge thanks to her and Sharon for their help. Surprising me yet again, Rita says she’ll happily get involved next time and will smooth things over with the rest of Iris’s family regarding the press coverage. However, a shattered-looking Sharon stays quiet, looking like she bit off more than she could chew tonight.
I offer to take them both out for a drink to show my appreciation, but they decline, saying they have to get home to bed.
Meg, on the other hand, does agree to come for one with me so, after locking up, we head to a bar a few doors along. It’s lively, but we manage to find a small corner table to grab a seat and rest our weary limbs.
My cousin takes a long sip of the G&T I bought for her. ‘Mmm, that’s nice. I feel like I’ve earned it tonight. Went well, didn’t it? Thank goodness for the two extra cutters. It would have been chaos if they hadn’t shown up when they did. Great job turning things around with Rita.’
I shrug. ‘Thanks.’
‘What about Nora?’ she asks, swirling her drink around in the glass.
‘What about her?’
‘Nice, isn’t she?’
‘Yeah, definitely. Nowhere near as many people would have turned up without her writing those two articles. Hats off: it was a great idea of yours to involve her, Meg. I’ll admit to being a bit sceptical originally, but you were right on this one.’
She nods thoughtfully before adding: ‘She’s single at the moment.’
‘Okay … any particular reason for telling me that?’
I’m grinning, assuming this means Meg’s about to announce her intention to pursue Nora romantically.
Instead, she replies: ‘Don’t take this the wrong way. I’m not pushing anything here – just saying it as I see it – but I’m pretty sure she likes you.’
This totally throws me. ‘Hang on, what? I thought you were into her. Isn’t she—’
‘Oh, seriously? You thought …’ Meg roars with laughter. ‘No, no. You’ve got the wrong end of the stick there. Nora doesn’t bat for my team.’
‘Really? I assumed—’
She rolls her eyes. ‘You should know better than to assume, Luke. I’m disappointed in you. I don’t only socialise with—’
‘Sorry,’ I cut in. ‘Listen, I’m shattered. I really didn’t mean it that way.’
She calmly places a cold hand on mine, which is resting on the table. ‘It’s fine, Luke. I’m not offended. I’m messing with you.’
‘Messing how?’
She shakes her head. ‘You really are tired, aren’t you? I’m messing with you about being offended – not about Nora. I genuinely think she has a soft spot for you.’
‘Based on what?’
She winks. ‘Women’s intuition. And before you ask: no, I definitely didn’t plan this when I introduced the pair of you. It didn’t even occur to me until I saw you together.’
‘I don’t see it at all.’
‘Well, you wouldn’t, would you? Listen, I definitely don’t want to spark another row with you, Luke. But know this, you’re quite a catch: tall and handsome, in good shape, with those piercing eyes that run in our family. Plus you’re a successful business owner with no personal ties – and you’re not half as grumpy as you used to be, which is a huge bonus.’
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes.
Later that night, nursing a beer at home in front of the TV news, my mind wanders into the past. I find myself thinking about Helen, my ex-wife. She’s not a topic I often dwell on nowadays, but after what Meg said about Nora and the lack of romance in my life, it’s no surprise I’ve ended up here. It’s an obvious mental journey, since Helen leaving me was what brought me to my current situation.
She broke me at a time when I was already in bits, grinding down what was left of me into specks of dust. And there’s been zero romance since. It’s not something I’ve wanted to open myself up to again, knowing the terrible pain it can lead to. So, other than a few meaningless, functional one-night stands, I’ve steered clear.
If Helen ever truly loved me, I don’t understand how she could have left me when she did, when the death of my parents was still so raw. She claimed she’d already waited longer to break the news than she wanted to, because of that. But where’s the comfort in knowing she was longing for another man while I was sinking in a pit of grief? Was she thinking of him every time she consoled me? I can only assume the affection she gave me then was born out of guilt.
There was no hint of any such tenderness when, a fortnight before Christmas that fateful year, she picked her moment to break the bombshell news.
‘Grub’s up,’ I called, entering the kitchen with the fish and chips I’d picked up from the chippy around the corner on my way home from work. I placed the white plastic bag on the table and, after quickly digging out placemats, cutlery, plates and ketchup, I removed the hot, paper-wrapped contents. ‘Are you coming or what?’ I called. ‘It’s getting cold.’
When Helen finally appeared, a minute or so later, I remember she looked pale. ‘Everything all right?’ I asked. ‘You’re not coming down with something, are you? You look a bit peaky.’
‘I’m fine,’ she replied, monotone.
‘How was your day?’
‘Fine. Yours?’
‘Not too bad,’ I replied, blissfully unaware that this was about to change.
I must have been about halfway through my meal when, noticing that Helen had barely touched hers, I asked again if she was okay.
‘I need to talk to you,’ she said, voice wavering.
I ought to have guessed that something bad was about to happen, but I was oblivious. Naively, up until that moment, I hadn’t considered my marriage a matter I had to worry about.
‘Go for it,’ I said, in between mouthfuls of my takeaway.
She took a slow, deep breath before speaking. And then came the words that hit me like poisoned arrows puncturing my chest. ‘I’ve met someone else.’
‘What?’ I replied after almost choking on a chunk of battered cod. ‘Is this some kind of joke?’
I’m not sure why I said that. It was a kneejerk response, I suppose. Why on earth would she have made a joke about something so serious?
‘No,’ she said. ‘I’ve been trying to tell you about this for a while, Luke, but there’s never been a right time. After what you’ve been through, losing your parents, I didn’t want to—’
‘Have you slept with him?’
She looked down at the floor as she nodded that she had, permanently shattering a piece of my soul. ‘I, um, it’s not …’ She sighed. ‘I think I’m in love with him.’
A voice started screaming inside my head. I pushed away my unfinished plate of food, knowing on the spot that I’d never again enjoy fish and chips. I closed my eyes for a few seconds to try to calm myself down. It didn’t work, but my self-defence systems – employed so frequently since my parents’ deaths – were already in play, closing down any outward signs of my inner turmoil.
‘So you’re saying you don’t love me any more?’ I asked, my voice taking on a dispassionate, android-like quality as I feigned indifference.
‘I do love you, Luke,’ she said, a solitary tear rolling down her left cheek. ‘That’s why I waited as long as I could, so I could help you through your grief. But – this is really hard to say – I’m not in love with you any more.’
‘I see.’
With an audible gulp, she added: ‘I’m sorry, but I’m leaving you. My bags are packed. I’m moving out tonight.’
And
with that, my marriage was over, before I even knew it was in trouble, and I was hurtling down a deep, dark chute towards despair.
Looking back, right to the start, it’s hard not to believe Helen once loved me as much as I loved her. I remember the way she used to look at me in the early days, like I was all she ever wanted or needed. She sobbed happy tears on our wedding day. I honestly thought we’d grow old together. Clearly, I was wrong. I hadn’t factored in the possibility of her finding someone else – someone better than me. She didn’t say that last bit specifically, but it didn’t take a genius to work out she was thinking it. Otherwise why would she have chosen him over me?
An hour or so after breaking the news, she was gone. First to a local friend’s place for a couple of nights, and then to him – her new man, my surprise nemesis – leaving me to have the worst festive period ever. While she presumably enjoyed turkey and all the trimmings at his place, I spent it drinking myself into oblivion, sobbing, and smashing up the expensive crystal glasses I’d bought her as a Christmas present.
Meg was away on a long trip to visit her parents in New Zealand at the time, which was incredibly tough, because I could have really done with her support. I felt utterly bereft, so worthless, miserable and alone at that point, it was a struggle to keep on going. In my darkest moments, which were thankfully fleeting, some truly scary thoughts went through my mind.
Two things kept me going: Alfred and the memory of my parents. The latter was important, because although the pain of losing Mum and Dad was still red raw, I knew what they’d want more than anything would be for me to pull through this. They’d wish for me to move forward and make the most of my life, like they no longer could, having had their own lives so cruelly ripped from them ahead of time.
How to Save a Life Page 14