Headstrong in Tuscany

by Fay Henson

  ‘OK, now it’s time,’ he said, ‘who will be the first?’

  No way should I make Joe go first, even though the thought was very appealing.

  ‘Me,’ I called out with my hand raised again.

  ‘You sure?’ Joe whispered.

  ‘Course.’

  The audience were being joined by onlookers who were passing by, and by that time there was a huge buzz of voices echoing off the tall ancient buildings. A pretty woman called Elisa with dyed blond hair was introduced, apparently from a Siena hairdressers who had agreed to shave off all our hair for nothing; of course, she got free publicity for her salon so she’d have been stupid not to have done it. Elisa draped a blue shoulder cape around me, her perfectly manicured and brightly painted red nails fastening it with the Velcro. Her tanned hands looked shiny like she’d just applied some hand cream, but it was easy to tell that she was over forty from the sticking out veins the same like my lovely mum has. What will you think, Mum? I wondered. Some Italian pop music started coming out from tinny sounding speakers somewhere. Here we go, I thought.

  A couple more drips of perspiration ran down my back. She plugged the cutters into the adapter attached to an electrical lead brought outside from a building and switched them on. Her hands tilted my head and I shut my eyes. The whirring noise got close until I felt the cutters make contact with my hair, her hands tilting my head one way then another as she stripped my hair away. I could tell that she smoked and I wished she didn’t because every time she got real close to me I could smell her stale and stinky breath. Who’d want to kiss her? I wondered, only another smoker I supposed.

  I felt hair fall onto my free hand which was resting on my lap. Joe was holding my other hand. Elisa’s hand guided my chin upwards where I finally opened my eyes to be reminded that all those people were staring right at me. I turned to Joe.

  ‘What’s it like, Joe?’

  ‘Beautiful.’

  I really hoped he was being honest.

  Apparently Elisa hadn’t quite finished; next she brushed some kind of nice-smelling foam all over my head and then we went through the phase of head tilting again, and I was reminded to keep perfectly still whilst she used a sharp razor to do a closer shave until my head was completely smooth. How strangely nude I felt when wisps of air skimmed my scalp. I wondered if she knew that my hair was originally red and not the dyed jet black that was strewn everywhere.

  Now and then when my head had been tilted, I was able to look downwards at the stage, where I’d caught a glimpse of Elisa’s legs and feet. At the end of her three-quarter length blue leggings were her tanned stick-like legs poking out finishing with a pair of very sparkly high-heeled sandals and pedicured toenails. It seemed like she hadn’t missed a thing. The whole scene was like a great big entertainment show and all the while, the journalist commentated in Italian to the audience and the camera.

  In a way I wished I’d known that it was going to be like this, at least I would’ve had a chance to make sure I had paid more attention to my makeup. But on the other hand, if I’d known, maybe I would’ve been too much of a chicken and bottled out all together.

  Her final thing was to use a soft brush all over my face and neck to rid all the remaining hair, and removed the shoulder cape away from my sticky and sweaty back. Still sitting, I turned towards Joe who gave me a lovely grin and leant over and hugged me, which seemed to encourage the audience to clap very enthusiastically again.

  That was one of the longest fifteen minutes I’d ever spent, but it was finally over for me, except I still had to wait for the moment until I was allowed to see myself in a mirror. I sat back on my chair and ran my hand all over my head giving myself excited giggles which I couldn’t hide from the audience.

  And so it was Joe’s turn and I held his hand for reassurance just as he did for me, only this time, I was able to see exactly how it was done. Elisa waited holding the cutters poised to start on Joe whilst her assistant hurriedly got up onto the stage and swept my hair away.

  His eyes were closed, maybe not as tightly shut as I’d had mine and I could see he had some beads of perspiration above his top lip. I watched mesmerised by Joe’s striking bone contours as Elisa tilted his head one way, then another, until all his blond locks had been destroyed. I wondered how she imagined Joe got his colourful bruising and luckily, nobody had asked. There was a slight pause between the cutting and the foam being smeared onto his bald head when he turned towards me.

  ‘Go on then,’ he said.

  ‘Drop-dead gorgeous.’

  ‘Yeah, right.’

  The journalist was really kidding around with the audience and getting them to clap their hands to the music’s rhythm when Elisa, obviously in the mood for jigging around had managed to snick Joe’s skin behind his ear. He flinched and put his hand to the place to discover he was bleeding. The assistant passed him some tissue to dab it, and I noticed from that moment, Elisa in her sparkly sandals didn’t dare gyrate around him anymore. She couldn’t run the risk of nobody wanting to book shaves with her if she happened to snick skin.

  Elisa had finally finished moving around Joe’s head with that extremely sharp blade when the moment came for the assistant to carry a tall mirror onto the stage for us to see ourselves bald for the very first time.

  The journalist had got the audience clapping in time together and as I was the first to be shaved, I had the pleasure of looking first in the mirror. Tre, due, uno, they all shouted, and the mirror was spun around in front of me. And all I could do was let out a hysterical scream and the audience responded with cheers. Joe managed to calm me down with a cuddle so that my scream was reduced to uncontrollable laughter; never, had I imagined seeing myself bald.

  When it was Joe’s turn, I could stand with him and on the count of tre, due, uno, the audience shouted for the last time before the mirror was turned round. Fortunately, his reaction was less frenetic than mine although he was laughing a lot. I didn’t know if he did it for the filming, but he picked me up off my feet and spun me round and round, his lips pressed firmly on mine.

  The journalist signalled for us to sit back down once more before he started speaking again over the microphone.

  ‘OK, money has been given from the kind people here and also from other people who hear about your help to the family.’

  He plunged the microphone in front of me as he translated what he’d said into Italian.

  ‘Er,’ I said, ‘grazie, we hope that it will help them with something or they can buy something they need for their daughter.’

  ‘Sure they will,’ he said, ‘because up to now, the total has reach three thousand two hundred euro, and there will be more from people who watch your event on TV later oggi, sorry, today.’

  ‘Wow,’ I said, ‘grazie very much.’ I couldn’t think of anything else to say. Then out of the blue, Joe amazed me with his courage in taking hold of the microphone and pulled me to stand up with him in front of all those people.

  ‘What I want to say to you all, is that I have only known Caylin for a short time, and during that time, I’ve learnt that she is a unique person and she has a heart of gold,’ he said. I gave him a friendly thump for that. And then he went and repeated it in Italian which I could see he had totally knocked the pants off everyone.

  ‘Bravi,’ they shouted to us, ‘Bravi.’

  19

  Butterflies

  That was a lunchtime experience I shan’t forget for a long time. The cameraman, journalist and hairdresser and most of the people left quite quickly, no doubt hungry the same as I was.

  Stefania said that they should have all the money raised in time for tomorrow morning, which was truly lucky as the day after, we had to leave Siena to return to the hotel and I didn’t want to miss seeing the family’s surprise. I really hoped that they’d be home when we knocked on their door.

  I guessed it must’v
e looked strange passing by a couple of people with their heads shaved, because the number of people or children I caught looking at us were many, and if I’d turned to look behind, there was always someone looking back at us. But it didn’t really bother me; I felt a sense of satisfaction that I, I was speaking for myself, had finally done something to help someone even though the amount might not come to very much or might not help them a great deal.

  I’d seen different fundraising events going on in Bristol, but I’d never had the opportunity to take part, either because I was too young or because I wasn’t able to for reasons like, a fun run which was actually a marathon run and too far for normal people.

  ‘The only channel I can find is this one,’ Joe said.

  He was flicking through all the channels on his TV, whilst I was trying to find the right pose to do a selfie to send to Zoe and Em.

  ‘It has to be this one which she said, Siena TV.’

  ‘Sound’s familiar, let’s leave it switched on, and see if they show local news on that one,’ I replied.

  It was four forty-five in the afternoon and I didn’t want to go anywhere until we’d seen the news; I didn’t want to miss us on TV and I was feeling super nervous.

  ‘Wait a minute,’ he said, ‘the TV menu says there should be news at five o’clock.’

  He adjusted the shutters so that the light didn’t interfere with the screen, before cuddling up next to me on the edge of the bed where we stared at the screen together in anticipation. I felt a bit conscious that the volume was high enough that anyone passing below could have heard it and I knew that Dad would have told me to turn it down long ago. I just didn’t want to miss anything.

  We both sat really quiet, just waiting whilst my poor stomach did summersaults. And then it came on the screen, Siena TV Notizie.

  ‘Oh my god,’ I said, ‘it’s coming.’

  And there we were on the stage, from the start to the finish, me laughing hysterically, Joe speaking in Italian, and us two baldies in front of all those people and all the others who were watching the news. Was that really us? I wondered.

  ‘Can’t be,’ Joe said, ‘I don’t know if I just heard the presenter say how much has been raised so far, I think he said just over four thousand euros.’

  ‘Cor,’ I said.

  ‘Like, triple wow,’ Joe said.

  The news programme ended, and using the remote, Joe found a music channel to put on.

  ‘Do you think we should rub some sort of oil on our heads?’ he asked peering into the mirror.

  ‘I think so, and also, we have to be careful with the sun you know.’

  ‘Look, I found this moisturising lotion in the drawer when I first booked into this room,’ he said flipping the lid up to take a smell. I took a sniff of it.

  ‘Umm, smells nice,’ I said, ‘come here you lovely bald person.’ I pulled him over to the bed, sitting him down where I knelt up behind him.

  I squeezed a little of the lotion in the palm of my left hand and proceeded to massage Joe’s soft head very gently, round and round. I could just about spy his reflection in the TV screen; I was sure he had his eyes closed.

  ‘Right, that’s it,’ he said, ‘let’s swap.’

  I was a bit shocked at his sudden change.

  ‘Didn’t you like it?’ I thought I’d done something wrong.

  ‘Too much.’

  ‘Oh.’

  It was his turn to be kneeling behind me, so I shut my eyes enjoying my head massage when after a few moments, his warm moisturised hands slipped down my shoulders and continued down inside my top. How wonderful that felt, and how exciting it was to feel his bulge that he was pressing into my back.

  ‘Fancy making sure you’re no longer a virgin?’

  ‘That’s for me to know and you to find out,’ I replied in a naughty tone.

  This afternoon we did lots of different things to each other, things I guessed all couples did behind closed doors in private, once we’d finished kissing that was. I’d never felt so aroused, and today was the very first time that someone had given me an orgasm. Joe took me to paradise and back and Joe was a very happy cat again.

  I was trying to get over the fact of how mega weird my skin felt against the pillow whilst we were lying together on our backs with the single sheet over the top of us.

  ‘Joe?’ I said, there was no answer.

  ‘Joe?’

  ‘Sorry, I must’ve been drifting off.’

  ‘Would it be OK with you if I took a selfie of us here together like this, just our heads and shoulders?’

  I didn’t really give him a chance to answer me.

  ‘I’d like to send it to Zoe and Em to show them our new hair styles,’ I said, ‘would that be OK by you? Oh go on, pretty please.’

  ‘If you must, no more OK?’

  ‘Course not,’ I said, ‘smile.’

  There wasn’t any need to check in the mirror how my hair looked before a selfie.

  Hey guys, going to send you a selfie of me and Joe with the next message, (hope you’ve behaved yourself Zoe and got your phone back) best if you sit down first Em, before opening it OK?! J

  Message sent, now for the photo.

  Girls like to have fun J

  And sent. Poor Em, I’d like to be a fly on the wall when she opened it.

  Today was one of the weirdest days of my life. Joe and I went out into the city to eat at a pizzeria and every now and then, we were interrupted with apologies from various people, because they wanted to hand us some euros to add to the collection. They’d told Joe that they’d seen the event on the local news.

  But the weirdest thing was later, when we were eating ice cream sitting on the tiny wall of the fountain in Piazza del Campo. It was only the B...... Vico, who was coming up to us and he had that other guy from the apartment with him too. My stomach turned.

  ‘Have you seen who’s coming our way?’ I said. ‘Look to your left, past the couple of families with pushchairs.’

  ‘Hold this please.’

  Joe immediately handed me his ice cream and stood up waiting for them to get closer and I thought he looked like he was preparing to defend himself; but then I didn’t think so. Instead, he had a karate style stance and clenched fists; he was ready to attack Vico.

  I really didn’t want Joe to get hurt again; I didn’t even want him to fight. I’d seen too much of that back home. Couldn’t people talk it out anymore? I stood up close to Joe, my heart was pounding.

  ‘Joe, please.’ My voice was shaky.

  He wasn’t saying anything, just staring straight at Vico and his mate. I felt so terrible for him seeing those two blokes heading towards us. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t help it, but my eyes pricked with tears I was so afraid of what they were going to do to him. Then Vico put his hand out in front of himself like he was signalling for Joe to keep calm. I looked at Joe and it seemed like he’d decided that he wasn’t going to fall for anything. He was keeping the same stance and silently surveying the situation we were in.

  Vico and his mate stopped a couple of metres away from us and I couldn’t bet my life on it, but as I was able to see them a bit closer, there didn’t seem to be any malicious expression on their faces.

  Vico started speaking in Italian to Joe who was still poised ready for a counter-attack. It was obvious he wasn’t going to let his guard down all the while he listened to what Vico had to say to him. Vico continued speaking when I realised that his voice sounded remorseful, his expression was remarkably different to that of the other day outside of his apartment; it was one of deep regret, I didn’t think for what he’d done to Joe, I was sure it was for Lula who’d lived with him and whom he’d never see again. I was trying to feel sorry for him.

  Joe adjusted himself into a more tranquil posture and after a few seconds, I assumed where he was gathering his wo
rds, he began responding in Italian. Vico then said something else with a touch of friendliness in his eyes, stepped forward and held out his right hand to shake Joe’s. Only then I’d realised that whilst I was so intent on what was happening, the two half-eaten ice creams I was holding had been dripping down my hands and onto the ground.

  Vico put his right hand into his jeans back pocket, producing a sealed envelope and whilst saying something, handed it directly to Joe who then turned to me.

  ‘He said he saw us in the square and went home to get this,’ Joe said. ‘There is a thousand euros inside this envelope for you to add anonymously to the rest of the money raised for the girl’s family. He’s made it absolutely clear that he doesn’t want the family to know it’s come from him.’

  Well I wasn’t expecting an envelope full of dosh, let alone from him.

  ‘Grazie Vico,’ I said.

  ‘Joe, please can you say this to Vico for me,’ I said. ‘Even though I hate him for what he did to you, deep down he is a good person, he helped me get to Siena and now he’s helping that family, also that I’m very sorry about what happened to his girlfriend.’ I didn’t know what else to say, so I left that to Joe.

  At the end of our surprise meeting in the busy and moonlit Piazza del Campo, Vico and his friend shook both our hands and walked soberly away in the direction of which they came. I was gobsmacked.

  ‘Wow.’

  I wanted to jump and shout at the thought of another thousand euros as well as what people had given us already that evening which we hadn’t yet counted.

  I found a bin and threw away the messy ice cream cones and went back to join Joe where I looped my arm with his and we strolled out of the square.

  ‘Apparently Vico and the girl’s family had fallen out some time ago,’ he said, ‘he didn’t say what it was about, but he said that he prefers to leave the situation like it is.’