Doctor Who_ Bad Therapy - Matthew Jones [1]
Until today she had been sure that Eddy Stone was different to the rest of the young staff that she employed. In all her years in the trade she had never met such an amiable lad, and certainly no one as hardworking. Most of the girls who worked for her saw the job as a way of earning a few bob before they got married. The lads usually lasted longer, but that was because they were rarely the marrying kind. Eddy Stone was different: he was always anxious to please, and always behaved as if the job really meant something to him. Or so Madge had thought until today.
She had barely been able to believe her eyes when Eddy had walked into the shop that morning. He had had the bare-faced cheek to act as if everything was absolutely normal, even when the junior girls who took care of the sinks had burst into fits of giggles. If it had been anyone else Madge would have sacked them on the spot. It was only because this was so out of character for 1
the boy that she had decided to wait until the end of the day, when she could confront him privately.
From where she stood at the back of the salon she had a clear view of him as he finished with his last customer of the day – an elderly woman who tottered in once a week for a rinse and set. Eddy was giving her his usual performance, treating the old girl as if she were the latest Hollywood starlet. He fussed around her, making tiny adjustments to her hair as if it were a great piece of art. Not that it was of course. Eddy wasn’t actually that great a cutter. In fact, he was a rather pedestrian stylist. But Madge had been in the hairdressing business long enough to know that it wasn’t just a question of cutting hair.
A good stylist sold dreams, and Eddy Stone was a born salesman. His true talents didn’t lie with his scissors, but in the way he made his customers feel about themselves. He could make a middle-aged housewife feel ten years younger with the right amount of flirtatious banter. To the older customers he became a favourite nephew or grandson.
His present customer, an old girl of at least seventy, kissed him on the cheek before leaving the shop, her face flushed from all the attention. Eddy wandered over to the till and put his sizable tip into the jar kept there for that purpose. He was honest too.
Which made what Madge knew she had to do all the more difficult. He caught sight of her and smiled that shy, uncertain smile of his. Madge almost smiled back, but just managed to catch herself. However charming the boy was, he had overstepped the mark coming to work looking like he had this morning. Far overstepped the mark.
‘I’d like a word, Eddy,’ she said firmly. ‘In my office, if you please.’
Eddy frowned, but nodded and followed her quietly into her room at the back of the shop. ‘Office’ was a bit of an exaggeration. It was nothing more than a desk, chair and safe in the corner of the storeroom. She shared the room with boxes of shampoo and the other tools of the trade. Laundry bags full of damp towels were left here at the end of each day, investing the room with a permanent ‘washing day’ atmosphere.
Perching herself on the edge of her desk, Madge lit a cigarette. She offered one to Eddy, but he shook his head.
‘I’m sure you know why I’ve called you in here.’
Eddy blushed and looked at his feet. ‘I guess,’ he murmured.
‘It’s not me, you understand. I don’t care what you do, but I’ve had com-plaints from some of the regular customers and I can hardly ignore that, now can I?’
Eddy looked up at her and for a moment Madge thought he was going to speak, but he didn’t say anything. He