by Jeannie Mary Abbott
For the first time, Henry secretly followed his wife to work. She drove to the edge of town and entered an old-fashioned, run down barbers’ shop – open at 8pm? Puzzled, he went in. Why did Carol want an evening job? There was no need, his salary at the bank was ample.
An elderly man, scissors in hand addressed him. “Hair cut Sir?”
“Oh, yes – OK.” There was a door to the left of the counter and some of the men went through after their haircuts.
“Where does that lead?” Henry pointed.
The barber whispered close to his ear. “That’s the Men’s Room Sir.”
“Oh, you mean the gents?”
“No Sir, have a look when I’ve finished.” Henry was almost too anxious to notice that his hair had never looked better.
He paid and went through. There were steps down to the cellar and another door. As he opened it he heard a buzz of conversation and his nose met a throng of smoke. Through it he could make out a bar and men lounging at tables. A sort of stage at the top end had dowdy, well-worn pink curtains, tied back in tassels.
He ordered a beer and looked around, searching for Carol. Discordant music struck up and feeble lights shone on the stage. Henry suddenly put his glass down and left.
As he rushed up the steps in torment he bumped into his wife. “What are you doing here Henry? I love your hair, it takes 10 years off you.”
“I came to see where you worked as you wouldn’t tell me.”
“Well, now you know. I’m a book-keeper for the barbers. I didn’t think you would approve. I’ll see you at home later. I’ve got work to do.”
Carol opened the door quickly; a roar of applause and whistling was heard inside as she disappeared. Henry stood stock still for a minute in anguish and then followed her in. A middle-aged woman was throwing away her clothes as fast as she could to strip tease music and also to the delight of the drunken men. Carol was nowhere to be seen. Henry wiped his brow, felt ashamed and went home.
Later that evening Carol was pleasantly surprised at the aroma of a casserole and her attentive husband handed her a glass of Champagne as she kicked off her shoes and thankfully fell into her favorite chair.
Over their meal Carol said she wanted to discuss her job. Henry eagerly encouraged her; she said that the barbers needed to generate more income and perhaps unisex was the answer. “That’s it” she cried. “We need women hairdressers, female customers and male strippers.”
The bubbles caught in Henry’s throat, he coughed, spluttered, flushed purple and couldn’t utter a word, much to Carol’s satisfaction.
Bio:
Writing has always been Jeannie’s main hobby. She runs two creative writing groups from the local library and loves every aspect, meeting new writers and inspiring the homework. Jeannie welcomes feedback – Jeannie@butterwicks.com