The Keeper by Nathan Burrows

Author:Nathan Burrows [Burrows, Nathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-06-04T00:00:00+00:00

58

Anita pushed open the door to the hair salon, unsure at first if she had got to the right building. From the outside, it looked more like a residential building than a commercial one, but as she had approached the wooden door, Anita had noticed a small brass sign just above the letterbox that read parrucchiera, or hairdresser. It was set back slightly from a busy road that led into the center of Terzigno, separated only by an iron fence that needed a coat of paint. As the door opened, it moved a small bell attached to a spring and Anita heard a woman’s voice calling out.

“Arrivo subito,” the voice said. I’ll be right there.

As she waited, Anita took in the building’s interior. She could tell from the smell in the air that it was definitely a hairdresser—the smell of warm blow-dried hair, products, and shampoos was very distinctive and somehow reassuring—but the hallway she was standing in belonged to a house, not a salon. There were coats hanging from hooks on the wall, a small table with some mail and a set of car keys in a silver dish, and a framed photograph of a family on the wall.

A moment later, a woman appeared in the corridor that led deeper into the house. She was perhaps mid-fifties, and was wearing a matronly looking dress with an apron tied around her ample waist.

“Bongiorno,” she said, her Neapolitan accent obvious even in just that single word. Anita was reminded of an elderly aunt who was from Naples who had one of the thickest accents she’d ever heard.

“Good morning,” Anita replied with a smile. “My name’s Anita. I’m afraid I don’t have an appointment, but I was hoping you might be available? A friend recommended you to me.”

“Which friend might that be?” the woman said, pushing open one of the doors that led from the hallway.

“Her name’s Greta,” Anita saw the woman frowning. “She’s got blue hair?”

“Ah, yes, I know her. Come through. I’m Mariangela, by the way.” The hairdresser smiled broadly at Anita and, for a moment, looked as if she was about to throw her arms around her for a hug.

Mariangela gestured at the door and, when Anita walked through, she saw that what had been a front room had been converted into a salon. There was even a sink in the corner of the room, where most people would place a television, and the smell of hair products was even stronger. Where there should have been curtains, there was a flowered blind covering the window.

“Sit, sit,” Mariangela said, pointing at a swivel chair in front of a large mirror.

Anita did as instructed, looking around the room. “This is unexpected,” she said a moment later, just as Mariangela started running her fingers through her hair.

“It saves on business rates,” Mariangela said with a smile. “They’re extortionate around here. What would you like to have done, Anita?” The hairdresser slowly spun Anita around in the chair so that she could see herself in the mirror.

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