Fringe Benefits

Copyright © 2014 Sandra Knight.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Art Credit: Ms Arja Hone

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ISBN: 978-1-4525-1323-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4525-1324-9 (e)

Balboa Press rev. date: 2/28/2014

CONTENTS

Acknowledgement

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty One

Twenty Two

Twenty Three

Twenty Four

Twenty Five

Twenty Six

Twenty Seven

Twenty Eight

Twenty Nine

Thirty

Thirty One

Thirty Two

Thirty Three

Thirty Four

Thirty Five

Thirty Six

Thirty Seven

Epilogue

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

A special word of thanks must go to my writing tutor, Frances Cherry, whose help and encouragement enabled me to complete this novel. Thanks also to the various members of my writing groups, my family and friends for their unfailing belief that this book would ever see the light of day. I must also record my special thanks to the late Gerry Gottlieb, who suggested the t itle.

Last but not least to Terry, my husband and editor. I could not have succeeded without his valuable help to outsmart my computer!

ONE

M s Knovac! Frank Morton bellowed. Your drains are filthy. I suggest you clean the wretched things, and the sooner the bloody be tter!

I’d prefer that we hold this discussion in private Mr Morton, Sue had to bite back words she’d rather have used, but it’s blowing a gale out there, so would you please come in and close the salon door behind you?

I’ll do better than that! Frank Morton slammed it hard.

Sue left Rona and Lucy to pick up loose perm papers and magazines from the floor, as she led Morton to the kitchen-cum-stockroom.

I’m responsible for only one drain, she said, and I’ll clean it when I have time. I’d feel more inclined to do so if you’d not bawled me out in front of the clients. Have you any idea how embarrassing that was for me?

Frank Morton’s lack of response left Sue feeling she might as well be talking to a brick wall. Why did the horrid little man think he had a right to treat people that way? He was nothing to write home about anyway, with his bald head and ugly face. The silver medallion amongst the grey hairs on his chest was a reminder to Sue that Rona had likened Frank to an aging Tony Bennett. Although, looking at him now, with his belly jutting shelf-like over those baggy grey pants and his feet shifting from side to side, he looked more like a bantam rooster spoiling for a fight. His face too, was an ugly puce colour as, without as much as a ‘by your leave’ he strutted from the salon.

When Sue heard the bang of the front door she prayed for the shop front window to stay in place. She opened the kitchen door and heard the clients’ cries of, Damn cheek! Does he often carry on like that? What a bastard! and she smiled at the thought of Morton’s ears right now, and how, with all the bad mouthing going on, they’d surely match the colour of his face.

I suppose I’ll have to go and clean that wretched drain, grumbled Sue. She realised that with Rona, and Lucy, having made themselves scarce, she was left talking to herself. She pulled two rubber gloves from a box on the shelf above the sink and added a good measure of disinfectant to the bucket of hot water. The thought of the gusty southerly was causing her to shudder, but since this was a job she’d agreed to take care of, she’d better get on with it.

Yuck! She threw a long, matted string of hair onto a sheet of newspaper, then wrapped and deposited the soggy parcel in the large green dustbin that stood between the salon and the butcher’s shop. One look at Phil Arnold’s clogged up drain was enough for Sue to forego any Good Samaritan act. Phil could clean his own drain; she’d no intention of spoiling her lunch!

She washed her hands and prayed that Ro was not on another one of her diets. It came as a relief to see there were brown paper bags and the red plastic tomato sauce container on their table at the back of the salon. She took a seat next to Lucy and smiled as she accepted a cup of tea from Rona.

Potato tops, that’s all that was left. Lucy handed Sue her paper bag.

Mmm, my favourite. Sue lifted the pie and placed it on top of the bag.

Will you read my tea leaves Sue? Please! begged Lucy.

Let me have my lunch first, okay?

The cup, placed upside down on the saucer, was a reminder to Sue of how she’d only herself to blame. After professing an ability to read the cups, she’d managed somehow to manufacture enough home truths to have kept the lass enthralled.

Not wanting to disappoint the girl, Sue reached for the cup and peered inside at the tea leaves forming a cluster.

Now, what have we here? Ah yes, I see two people facing one another. A young lady; she’s pretty and shapely, petite, with blonde, curly hair. Now the man is tall, dark and handsome, and he’s wearing a uniform. He’s bending over the young lady; maybe he’s asking her for a date. And she’s smiling; it looks as if she’s telling him yes. Sue studied the leaves a while longer, then sighed. Sorry Luce, I can’t see anything more today.

Gosh! Lucy sounded excited, that’s got to be Ronnie, my new boyfriend. He’s tall, really neat looking and his hair’s black. Now this’ll blow you away, he’s training to be a chef, that’s the uniform. Totally amazing, eh Ro?

Sue caught Rona’s eye and winked.

Do Ro’s now, urged Lucy.

Sue waited for Rona’s cup to drain before she paid attention to the few remaining leaves.

Oh, get this Ro. I see you trying to stop me from killing a man. I’m wielding an axe. Now I can’t quite work out who he is, although hang on, do the initials F M mean anything to you? Sue joined Rona and Lucy in the laughter

Frank Morton’s such a bastard, Rona replaced her cup on the saucer, I don’t know how you managed to stop yourself from strangling him this morning Sue. I was just about to knock on the door to see if you were okay, when he came thundering out.

I think he’s dead scary, shuddered Lucy.

You’re doing May’s hair this afternoon aren’t you Sue? asked Rona.

Yes, Sue nodded. That poor woman, imagine being married to him? No don’t, that’s too horrid for words. May’s visit here would have to be the highlight of her week. Have you noticed how she always pays by cheque? Frank signs them and they’re always for the correct amount. I’d bet anything that they don’t have a joint account, and that May doesn’t have one of her own.

She’d stand more chance getting blood out of a stone than having him go along with that, huffed Rona, he’s such a miserable git.

Sue glanced through the appointments booked in for the rest of the day and could see how busy they’d be.

I’m sorry Luce, I know you were hoping for a cut and streaks but there’s no chance of that today. She sensed the young girl’s disappointment and felt sorry for her, but Lucy would have to find another way to impress Ronnie, the trainee chef.

Two o clock, it was time for May’s blow wave. How she could stand living in the same house with a creep like Morton was hard to credit. Sue studied May closely and could see there was room for improvement. A change of hairstyle could be a good way to start.

May, what do you say to looking through some of our latest hairstyling books and perhaps we’ll come up with a new style for you? There was no time like the present, thought Sue. I’m not suggesting a big change, just a slightly softer style. Sue picked up one of the styling books and handed it to May. Have a look through this and let me know if you think there’s one that would suit you.

Um, I’m not too sure, stammered May, but I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to look, if you think it’d be a good idea.

Sue chose to ignore the hesitancy she’d detected in May’s voice. It was early days of course but she’d achieved a breakthrough, and when she’d talked things over with Rona they’d be sure to come up with some good ideas. A plan of action which hopefully would turn May Morton into a more confident woman and, as a result, get right up Frank’s nose. It took a fair amount of persuasion and a certain amount of tact on Sue’s part before May agreed to the softer, more flattering style, which was less severe and not at all old hat.

Sue wasn’t fooling herself. She knew that if she was to achieve a look anywhere near the model in the styling book, May would need to lose at least ten kilos, and more importantly, twenty years. She’d learned from experience how most clients were happy to try a new look if told they’d look years younger, and May was proving to be no exception. To get May to agree to letting them add colour to her hair might take some time, but Sue was committed to gaining the woman’s confidence and she was determined to give it her best shot.

Sue talked to Rona during a coffee break and could sense her friend’s excitement.

I’d love to see May stand up for herself, so if there’s anything I can do count me in. Rona rinsed her cup then placed it on the bench.

We’ll work on it together. We’ll have to be careful not to scare her off, she’s like a frightened rabbit most of the time – although I’d have to say she’s talked more today than ever, so that’s a good start.

Hi there, Sue and Rona chorused as Lucy came into the kitchen.

Are you guys sharing a secret or can I join in? Lucy filled the jug with water before plugging it in and turning on the switch.

There’s no secret Luce, Sue placed an arm around Lucy’s shoulder, we’re talking of ways to make Mrs Morton feel better about herself, and to look more attractive. It can’t be easy living with a husband as mean as Frank. Now you can help by drawing her into a conversation and taking an interest in what she has to say and maybe she’ll open up about Frank. Try not to be too obvious though, just act friendly and keep boosting her confidence. For example, you could say how well the colour blue suits her, that it matches the colour of her eyes, or something equally flattering. And tell her how great her hair would look with a mahogany colour through it. Don’t forget to mention that you practise tinting on some of the clients’ hair on Wednesday nights and the only charge is for the materials. I suppose there’s no point in expecting Frank Morton to cough up with any money, but perhaps she could save a bit every so often from the housekeeping. She caught the eager expression on Lucy’s face and had no doubt she’d relish the part.

TWO

S ue experienced a stab of envy as Bethany Featherstone wafted through the salon in a cloud of Joy perfume. However, there was nothing to envy about Bethany’s bossy voice as she demanded Rona finish her hair by seven o’clock because Peter was taking her to the o pera.

Perhaps it’d be best if you waited a week or two to have the streaks, suggested Rona. There really isn’t enough time tonight.

Oh no! wailed Bethany, I can’t possibly be expected to go to the opera without having some streaks, I just can’t!

Bethany’s outburst was hard to ignore. The clients must be having a field day, thought Sue. She felt sorry for Rona, but was relieved she wasn’t the one having to cope with such a difficult client, on a late night. All she could do was to be there for moral support if needed. Bethany’s determination to have streaks had put Rona in an awkward position, and she’d have reason to feel under pressure. However, by working at top speed whilst pulling strands of hair through the holes in a cap with a crochet hook, then applying the bleach in what had to be record time, it wasn’t until Bethany was placed under the steamer, with a cup of coffee in her hand, that Sue realised Rona had completed the procedure without saying a word.

Bethany tutted as she looked at her watch. I’m going to be late, can’t you hurry it up a bit? she groaned.

But turning the heat up on the steamer wasn’t doing enough, judging by the amount of tutting still going on, and sighs of relief could be heard throughout the salon when the timer on the steamer pinged.

Ro, can you come here, please? called Lucy.

Coming. Rona stopped rearranging the trolley before she joined Lucy at the back basin.

Oh, Bethany, Rona sounded close to tears, I’m so sorry. The streaks are very white.

My God, what the hell have you done? Bethany screeched whilst she struggled to sit up.

Lie back until Lucy finishes, please, begged Rona.

It was some time before Bethany was led from the basin and seated in front of the mirror.

Excuse me Maddy, Sue said to her client as she placed the tail comb on top of a trolley. I won’t be long.

No, off you go, Maddy was obviously enjoying the whole spectacle, and don’t you worry about me, I’ll be fine.

Sue was in time to hear Bethany in full cry as she joined Rona.

Do you mind telling me what you’re going to do about this? Bloody incompetence, that’s what I call it! Bethany’s face was scarlet.

Sue couldn’t help but think that with all the soothing and little pats on the back going on, Lucy being sent to the kitchen to make Bethany yet another cup of coffee, was a lucky escape for her.

Bethany, Sue was hoping for some sort of inspiration. It’s getting late, and apart from saying once more how sorry we are, there’s not a lot we can do right now. Ro has suggested that she applies a toner to your hair to help soften the colour. If you’d like to come in at nine o’clock tomorrow morning, we’ll use a honey blonde tint to redo the streaks. There’ll be no charge, of course.

It took a while for Bethany to agree to the proposition, but it wasn’t until the blow wave was completed and she’d left the salon that Sue and Rona were able to breathe easily.

Gosh, I’m so sorry Sue. Rona flicked hair from her forehead.

Look, don’t worry about it Ro, Bethany brought it upon herself by insisting on having streaks, then rushing you the way she did. Sue returned the blow– dryer to a hook under the ledge. Now calm down and have a cup of coffee, you left your last one to go cold. We’ll both work on getting the colour right tomorrow morning. I only hope the opera turns out to be bloody well worth it!

Gosh, I hope I don’t ever do anything like that, I think I’d die! Lucy ran her index finger across her throat.

With a bit of luck Luce might learn some tact one day, Sue thought as she cashed up. She could hardly wait to get home.

Sue entered by the back door and caught the aroma of cooking and the welcome sight of Tony, busy with tonight’s meal.

Hi sweets, how’d it go today?

Don’t ask! That bastard Morton yelled at me in front of all the clients about the bloody drains being filthy, stormed Sue. He practically ordered me to clean them there and then, can you believe that?

The rotten little creep, Tony added salt to the pot. Perhaps I should go around there and knock his block off.

You’d have to beat me to it, said Sue, calming down. It felt good getting it off her chest, and to know that Tony was there for her.

How about I pour you a glass of wine? Tony lifted a bottle from the fridge.

Nice thought love, but I reek of perm lotion and right now I need to take a shower.

Sue was beginning to feel human once more as the hot water cascaded over her body. She toyed with the idea of washing her hair but changed her mind; she’d ask Ro to do it tomorrow