AT THE BARBERS

John had gone to the same barber’s for as long as he could remember, which was twenty-nine years. He had grown to trust it, even to like it. He did not have all that much hair left now, but he kept it carefully tended, neatly mown above each ear. The hair served no practical purpose but John enjoyed the symmetry of his head: the shiny pate neatly framed by the tufts to either side. When he glanced in the mirror every morning he saw confidence, security, stability. He saw a man people could trust. He had never stolen anything, never started a fight and never tried to go further with a girl than she wanted. Of course, he did not have the chance very often at his age! He smiled to himself - not for too long; people might think he was mad. In former days, though, his university friends had considered him a lady’s man. And of course his nickname, "long john," because someone had started a rumour that he had an enormous penis. That was just juvenile silliness of course; his penis was the normal size. He had checked after the rumour started so he knew that for a fact. His wife had later confirmed it and he was as sure as it was possible to be. He thought of his wife and wondered when they had last had sex. But he could not see the point of obsessing about that like a bloody kid. They had a good life together, John and Anna Williams.

John sat down in the chair with confident familiarity, He had lowered his bottom into it hundreds of times before. It felt all but designed to fit him. He touched the black leather arms with his short fingers, running them up and down the full length, slowly, rhythmically. Then he rotated the chair a little to the left, a little to the right, wriggling his arse guiltily. He waited for the barber, Peter, to arrive. Normally John would not have dared to take the liberty of seating himself, but Peter had evidently gone out for a minute and John wished to make it clear that he had the first place in the queue should anyone else arrive for a haircut. So he sat in the comfortable seat, and waited. He noticed that the air was a little colder than usual and tapped his feet on the footrest to keep warm. Tap tap tap. Tappytappytappy.

After five minutes a boy walked in from the back of the barber’s shop, leaving the door swinging behind him. He strode across the tiled floor as though the shop belonged to him when John knew for a fact that it didn’t. The boy seemed very young to John - although he was nineteen he looked very small for his age. He had small, feminine features and long, slim fingers that John noticed almost immediately; John considered himself to have an eye for details. The boy ran water over his fingertips and shook them in the sink, violently, like an Italian chef. Actually, the boy had an oriental appearance with his small face. As John looked at the boy in the mirror something occurred to him to say. "Is Peter out?" he said. The boy nodded in the mirror and went forward to wet his fingertips under the tap again. Instantly he appeared behind John and shot his fingertips through John’s twin tufts of hair. John smiled, appreciating the confidence of the boy. He thought he saw something of himself in the young man.

The boy whipped out a pair of gleaming scissors and took a couple of expert, lightning snips at John’s hair. He took a few more and John felt a quick tinge of numbness behind his right ear - no, below it. Was it possible that the boy had stabbed his ear by mistake? No; the boy would have apologised and besides, John experienced no pain. He squinted in the mirror but could not make out anything unusual, and realised he had left his glasses at home. He relaxed back in the comfortable chair and started to daydream about a promotion at work.

A sizzling sound from the back room distracted him and the boy marched back in. He flashed a mirror behind John’s head and tore off the apron from around John’s neck. John could not remember him putting it on but he paid the boy quickly, leaving him to the lunch he had evidently begun to cook. Walking home he noticed the numbness below and behind both ears and thought perhaps he had got up too fast from the chair. Johns wife, Anna, screamed when she saw what the boy had done.