Fur Coat No Knickers (2 page)

Despite the entertainment value,
I did often have to bring everyone back down to earth and remind them that this
was
a professional and high-end establishment. It was my business after all.

‘Oh c’mon you guys
- it’s Christmas Eve! Where’s your sense of forgiveness?’ I asked the battling pair in frustration, as I signalled Siobhan to come and take a seat so I could blow-dry her hair. ‘Let’s call a truce.’

‘
Hmm. You’d be alright if ya stopped snorting that acrylic,’ whispered Jayde under her breath, shooting a look of daggers at James.  

‘I heard that
- you uneducated bitch!’ responded James furiously. In an instant, hostilities had resumed.

‘I am a designer nail technician
- getting high off the fumes is part of my job!’ he said in mock indignation.

‘It’s gone to your
‘ed,’ Jayde chortled. ‘I’m telling ya! I mean, you could totally do with sorting out that tan of yours. You look like a malnourished Oompa-Loompa.’

‘As much as I’d like to thank you f
or my malnourishment compliment, Jayde, I’d also like to point out that your pores are so diabolically huge they should be paying council tax!’

‘
Ho-ho-ho!’ belted Siobhan like a referee Santa Claus, ‘round two: DING-DING-DING!’

‘James, Jayde!’ I p
leaded, ‘drop your weapons, now! I’m not in the mood for hair and beauty tools at dawn!’

‘Ah come on now,’ pouted Siobhan, ‘there’s only me here, we’re all only playing.’

‘Stop now, that’s enough!’ I commanded. ‘Siobhan,
please
don’t encourage them.’ I rolled my eyes to the heavens, turned my back on the pair of them and switched on the hair-dryer to drown out their bickering.

Is this what I have really signed up for? A li
fe of keeping this lot in place?

I
began to daydream.
I should have a rock-solid, perfect, gob-smackingly gorgeous husband by now; who dotes completely on me and our perfectly behaved, impeccable children. We would call them Hugo, Tommy and Mercedes. They’d attend the finest of schools. Hubby would be here with me right now, keeping
this lot
in order, but only after he’s finished preparing the three-course Michelin style meal that would be waiting for me when I got home. Yes, he’d be a top chef
, I mused to myself.
Not one who screams and shouts and loses his temper, although I have to admit: Gordon Ramsey telling me to ‘get my fucking head down’ on him would be nothing other than an absolute pleasure.

Now, where was I? Ah yes, my husband would be so successful that he didn't have to work over Christmas. He could even have retired very young.
Actually, scrap that, idle minds equal idle hands, we don’t want them wandering…
No, wait… we would have a nanny. Yes, a live-in nanny. A butt-ugly one though, that’s very important. She would have warts - not genital warts, or anything like that - just enough warts with a few sprigs of pubic-like hair darting around. A Nanny McFee type. Yes, that would be perfect.

We would remain in London
- perhaps in a penthouse apartment - around Hyde Park. Actually, make that a mansion in Hampstead. It would have to be huge, because it would need to house, amongst other things, a humungous Christmas tree - a real one. It would be decorated in traditional-style, with fairy lights, all white and twinkly; with huge red velvet bows.

We would decorate it together
as a family. I could almost see my gorgeous husband lifting our eldest, Tommy, to put the angel on top. No wait, Hugo would be our eldest, Tommy can turn the Christmas tree lights on. But then Mercedes may feel left out.
Gosh, being a parent is difficult.
I’d need to find her something to do.
Oh, I know, I will have to put her to bed because she’s tired… Or perhaps I should just have two children? I’ve got it! Even better, I’m pregnant with Mercedes!
I would be a vision of fertile loveliness for the festive season.

So, back to the
child lifting. My handsome man will be lifting our son up effortlessly in his muscular arms while we all watched together in admiration, revelling in a perfect Christmas.

‘OUCH - that’s hot! Don’t be scolding the head off me you loon!’ irked Siobhan.

‘
Oh… sorry! I was miles away.’

As I was adding the final tou
ches to Siobhan’s hair, Jackie was getting ready to leave. Fortunately, Jackie had been with me since the opening of the Salon and was a very skilled beauty therapist. She was however a lot quieter than the others and often seemed bemused by their incessant jokes, but she was always good company. Indeed, out of all of them, I would often go to Jackie for wise counsel. I’d noticed she seemed withdrawn in the last few days and I had been waiting for a good opportunity for a word in private. Luckily, she paused next to me as she readied herself to go.

‘
Jackie… you look a little worried, are you alright?’ I asked quietly as I switched off the hair-dryer.

‘
Hmm. I’m not sure,’ whispered Jackie, looking around her in a secretive manner, ‘have a look at this; I got a text earlier from the old man and it’s confused me.’

[Text from Pete]

‘Hi sexy, can’t wait to see u tonight. And wear that new underwear I got u ;-) xxxxxx’

‘Oowh lucky you,’ I said playfully, handing back the phone, ‘looks like you’re on a promise tonight!’

‘No,’ replied Jackie, shaking her head, ‘you don’t understand... Pete hasn’t bought me any underwear… and he said he was going out for a few drinks with the boys tonight.’

My heart sank a little.
I deliberately tried to avoid eye contact with Siobhan, because I knew she’d been eavesdropping and this didn’t sound good.

‘I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation
,’ I said as brightly as I could. ‘It must be one of his friends messing about with his phone or something, don’t worry yourself, sweetheart.’

Reaching into the drawer of the reception desk, I pulled o
ut the Salon spare keys and handed them to Jackie, along with her Christmas bonus.

‘
Here’s your Christmas bonus. Thanks for all your hard work this year. Now, you get yourself home and I’ll lock up. Merry Christmas and thanks again for taking over while I’m in Dublin,’ I said while giving her a big, reassuring hug.

‘No problem
,’ she said, forcing a smile. ‘Enjoy your family Christmas. Bye everybody, merry Christmas,’ she said, unconvincingly as she left the Salon.

‘There’s no way he is playing away. He wouldn’t, would he?’ I asked Siobhan
, as I started spraying her hair into place.

‘Well,’ slurred Siobhan
, swaying slightly in her chair and clearly making an effort to focus on her reflection in the mirror, ‘he
is
in his 50’s… and didn’t you tell me that he just bought himself a mid-life crisis, penis extending set of wheels?’

‘Siobhan!’ I chided, tap
ping her on the head with the brush. ‘There’s no way! And it’s just a car.’

Quietly though, I did concede to myself
; she did have a point. It
was
a Subaru; a huge statement in itself. I had to push the thought to the back of my head. Any hint of marital impropriety really didn’t fit in with my own fantasy of a ‘perfect’ family life; with three kids, a mansion in Hampstead and an index-linked pension.

‘But they have been married for like… forever,’ I eventua
lly stammered out, ‘they are the perfect couple… aren't they?’

‘Ah Tara, c’mon now, she has five kids! She must have a
fanjita like a clowns pocket!’ scoffed Siobhan.

‘
Do you have to be so crude?’ I tutted, handing her back her coat.

I was just about to launch into a lecture on the sanctity of family life when James, who never knowingly missed out on any potentially hot gossip, interrupted us.

‘So… I couldn’t help overhearing,’ said James inquisitively, as he slithered over with a raised eyebrow. ‘What’s all this about Jackie? Go on, do tell!’

‘
James
,’ I said cutting him short and raising one hand in the air like some sort of helpless traffic cop, ‘
nothing
is going on.’

‘Pete’s feckin’ cheating on Jackie
,’ piped up Siobhan. ‘I’m [hic] telling you!’

‘Siobhan,
shoooosh!’ I snapped, whirling around to face her while adopting my best headmistress-in-a-temper look.

‘Reeeally
… ooooh, the naughty bugger!’ said James, in obvious delight. He couldn’t have been that excited by the news though, because he immediately turned the conversation around to himself. ‘And talking of naughty buggers - no pun intended – my new hot piece of man-candy seems to have fallen off the ‘gaydar’ system and gone icy-cold on my little behind. It’s put me in such a foul mood! I keep texting him and he’s not replying. It could have something to do with what he said about being ‘confused’ - but I’ve told him, his undercarriage is for men only! It’s just ridiculous!’

Siobhan was all ears. She loved all this stuff.
‘[Hic]… So [hic]… so James [hic]…’ she persisted, seemingly to encourage him into more revelations.

‘I mean, how could
anybody
be confused after a night like that with
moi?
’ James continued bluntly, raising his manicured hand to his chest, evidently flabbergasted. ‘I might need to give him the silent treatment so he realises what he’s missing. I mean, what more could he wish for?’

James, momentarily upset, re-adjusted the fluffy halo he’d
been resolutely wearing in the Salon throughout the run-up to Christmas. ‘How do you give a man the silent treatment when he’s the one being silent? It’s
so
hard.’

‘How
hard
?’ Siobhan asked, one eyebrow suggestively raised as she predictably zoned-in on the word
‘hard.’

‘He’s
so sexical, you know. Sex on a stick. And don’t get me started on what he keeps in those tighty-whities. I could ride his disco-stick
all-night-long.
’ With that, James threw back his head and laughed uproariously, while treating his audience to a little wiggle of his leather-clad bum.

‘Wow [hic]
… so wait… back the feck up. You said he was confused?’ queried Siobhan, who had clearly not been keeping up well in her befuddled state.

‘Yes, well he has only recently discovered that ‘gay is the way’ after I showed him the night of his life! But he has since
wrongly
decided that he wasn't so sure!’ said James impatiently.

‘NO!… so he goes both ways
…
? He’s bi-di-bi-di-bi,’ roared Siobhan.

‘I’m talking
5’ 10” of toned perfection,’ James continued, ignoring Siobhan’s hopeful conclusion.

‘How many marks out of ten would you give him?’
pressed Siobhan. ‘How young is he? Is he ripe for the picking? Oh feck it… I’m getting myself all worked up now!’

‘Oh Siobhan, let me tell you, he was off the Richter scale
,’ said James with a long, loved-up sigh.

‘Mmm [hic
]… well James, because I love you sooo much, I’m gonna do you a favour and test-drive him with me fanjita for you, just to see what genitalia he likes best. That way you’ll know for sure,’ said Siobhan conspiratorially. ‘Now I can’t be any fairer than that, now can I?’

‘Thank you for offering the use of your… er
r… ‘lady-garden’ Siobhan, however I plan to keep him on the dark side,’ sniggered James, ‘but, Happy Christmas, darling.’

James and Siobhan were both clearly pleased with the exchange and finished the performance with an elaborate display of air kissing on one another’s cheeks.

‘Happy Christmas to my best friend,’ said Siobhan, turning and throwing her arms around me, locking me into a bear hug. ‘I’m going to miss you so much. Be good. And if you can’t be good, be damn good at it!’

‘Aw
w - and happy Christmas to you too!’ I replied, returning the hug.

‘See you on New Year’s Eve
! And James…’ shouted Siobhan, ‘if you change your mind and want me to take lover-boy round the block for you… do let me know,’ she said with a wink.

With t
hat, Siobhan sailed out of the Salon, grabbing her ‘fanjita’ and thrusting her hips as she left. For a moment, the Salon fell silent. It was always like that with Siobhan. She was such a ball of life and energy that when she left the room it felt like a vacuum.

‘James
, Jayde… c’mon… it’s pressie time,’ I said, recovering the festive feeling by choosing this moment to hand them their Christmas bonus envelopes.

‘Thanks, Tara!’ They both chorused, then shot
each other evil stares after they realized they’d chanted in unison.

Jayde broke the tension,
‘I weren’t gonna give you a crimbo pressie, James; but it is the season of giving to the unfortunate,’ began Jayde, looking genuinely contrite.