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BEFORE

September 1976

Sally

Elite, Wandsworth, London

Sally took the dry towels from the line and then pegged the newly washed towels in their place. She moved inside, singing along to the latest Brotherhood of Man song, which played on the radio in the salon. Nicola was finishing a perm for Mrs Langton, one of their Friday-afternoon regulars. Another client, a young woman called Hazel, sat underneath a hooded dryer with a hairnet on. Sally refolded the towels into their pile by the sinks, then checked the shampoo bottles to ensure they were all topped up. She tidied the trolley, lining up hair rollers, perm curlers, clips, pins, combs and brushes. Then, once that was all in order, ready for the next client, she swept the salon floor again.

Sally was determined to continue to prove to Nicola that she hadn’t made a mistake when she’d taken her on. Her role had progressed over the past three months. Along with cleaning, she had been given the responsibility of shampooing customers. She enjoyed the process, seeing women come into the salon frazzled and then relax as she gently washed their hair, wrapping their hair in a turban-like towel, as she brought them back to their seats for Nicola to do her magic.

‘You can take Hazel’s curlers out now,’ Nicola called over to Sally.

Fridays and Saturdays were busy in the salons, with young women like Hazel in to transform themselves for their nights out.

Sally switched off the hooded dryer, then moved it away, ready to get to work. Hazel smiled distractedly at her momentarily, but returned to her glossy magazine again. Sally carefully took the first roller out to ensure the woman’s dark hair was dry. She felt Nicola’s eyes on her, watching her every move. Sally took a steadying breath, determined not to allow nerves to better her. She took all the curlers out methodically, ensuring she didn’t snag Hazel’s hair. She’d made that mistake once, and the client’s ‘Ow!’ still rang in her ears. Then she smoothed the curls into soft waves.

‘You are a genius!’ Hazel was enthused at the finished style.

Sally’s chest puffed out in delight.

‘That’s two pound fifty for the wash and set,’ Sally said when they walked to the tills.

Hazel handed her ￡3. ‘Keep the change, love. If this doesn’t get my man proposing, nothing will.’

The day went by in a blur of shampoo and sets, colours and perms. Sally kept her eyes on the clock because she habitually lost track of time. She loved her job, but as it didn’t pay her a wage she couldn’t afford to lose her char work. Sally had thought she was tired before, but now, with two jobs on the go, she finally realised what the saying ‘bone tired’ meant. She fell into bed every morning after her cleaning shift finished, only to wake when her alarm rang out at eleven o’clock. She lived for Sundays, where she could sleep all day if she wanted, and it wasn’t unheard of for her to sleep almost twenty-four hours straight.

Finally, at quarter to four, the salon was empty.

‘Take a seat for a moment,’ Nicola said, patting one of the salon chairs beside her. She held a folder in her lap, and her face looked deadly serious.

Sally felt a flush rise up her chest. She hadn’t messed up; she was sure of it.

‘Have I d-done something wrong?’ she stammered.

‘Oh my days, of course not,’ Nicola said. ‘You are a breath of fresh air. That’s what you are. You’ve got this place running like clockwork. Look at it.’ She waved her hands around the salon. ‘Gleaming. That’s all you.’

Sally flushed again, but this time with pride.

‘I want to offer you a formal apprenticeship. I’ve got your papers here. You’ll do day-release training at a local college every Wednesday. And, while it’s not much, I can pay you four pound fifty daily.’

Sally felt her breath leave her body, and she couldn’t speak. She wanted to gush her thanks, but she had no words. Instead, she felt hot tears sting her eyes.

‘Oh, don’t cry. This is good news,’ Nicola said, pulling Sally into her embrace. ‘There, there. You’ll get me started next. And I’m having a particularly good mascara day; it would be a shame to waste it.’

Sally giggled at this, which also set Nicola off. Sally finally found her voice and gushed, ‘I never expected this. Thank you.’

‘No thanks necessary. I’m happy to do it. Credit where credit is due. And I want you to have your qualifications. Hairdressing can take you around the world if you want it. Now, don’t get me wrong. I want you to stay here with me. But, if you decide to move on, this way you will have the papers to take with you.’

Sally could not believe her ears.

‘I would like you to give up the char work, though. You look half dead most days. I don’t know how you keep going. I’d be done in if I had two jobs on the go, like you.’

Sally couldn’t argue with that. Some days, it took all her strength to get out of bed. But every sacrifice had been worth it. She wanted to dance and sing with the pure joy of this news.

‘I’ll talk to my boss tonight at the office block. Maybe I can reduce my hours? But even with the pay from you I can’t afford to give it up.’

‘I understand. Well, you can keep your tips. I hope that helps a little too.’ Nicola glanced at the clock above the reception area. ‘You better get a move on. You’ll be late if not.’

With one last hug of gratitude, Sally left, but practically floated back to the flats, peeling her clothes off and jumping onto the bed in her underwear. She usually napped for an hour between her two jobs, but not today. She was too charged up to think about sleeping. Instead, she lay there, eyes closed, and fantasised about some day owning her salon. Hair by Sally , she would call it. Maybe she could go to America and get a job in one of the fancy salons in New York. Elsie might even come with her.

She frowned at the thought of her best friend, feeling her good mood dissipate. Elsie and Reggie were dating again. And, while Sally liked Reggie, she worried about him. He was one of life’s duckers and divers, and had told the girls that he did errands for one of the gang lords in the East End. Elsie was impressed by the cash that he flashed, but it made Sally nervous.

Elsie had always been easily led, and Sally worried Reggie might take her friend down the wrong path. But they were not kids any more. Sally had to let Elsie live her life.

Sally had to admit to something else too, even if it didn’t paint her in the best light: She was jealous. With Reggie back on the scene, Elsie was spending all her spare time with him, rather than Sally. And this only highlighted the fact that Sally was alone, never having a boyfriend of her own. She still had that same dream, of meeting a tall, dark stranger and falling in love. It felt more elusive than ever before.

Sally had never had someone who was one hundred per cent hers, who put her needs before their own, who worried about her and nobody else. She craved that blanket of security that she believed a boyfriend could give her.

But Elsie had promised that they could go to the Grove for a drink this weekend, just the two of them. Maybe Mr Right would walk into the bar, their eyes would lock across the crowded room and they would . . .

The next thing Sally knew, there was a loud banging on her door.

Elsie’s voice called in: ‘Wake up, you daft ha’p’orth. We need to get going.’

Sally sat up with a start. She’d dozed off dreaming of her handsome stranger and overslept. She rushed to open the door and pulled her char uniform over her head. ‘Sorry, Elsie,’ she said, zipping herself up as the door opened.

‘We’ve got five minutes – don’t worry,’ Elsie said, pouring a glass of water for Sally.

‘I’ve got news, Elsie,’ Sally said as she ran a brush through her hair. ‘Nicola has offered me a hairdressing apprenticeship.’

‘Well, about blooming time!’ Elsie replied with a whoop. ‘She’s got a right bobby dazzler with you.’

‘She’s going to pay me too. Four pound fifty per day.’

Elsie frowned. ‘That won’t keep the bailiff from the door. You’ll have to stay on charring.’

Sally nodded. ‘Do you think the gaffer will let me work fewer hours?’

‘I don’t know. You can ask. He likes you, so maybe he’ll agree.’

Elsie held up two slices of buttered bread. ‘You’ll have to eat these on the go.’

Sally tied her hair back into a ponytail, then grabbed her bag and keys, ready to leave for work.

Once they arrived at the cleaners’ room in the office block, nerves began dancing in Sally’s stomach. She didn’t want to lose this job, but she also knew she couldn’t keep up the hours she was working. They found Cyril with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, rubbing his stockinged feet.

‘Gout,’ he said sorrowfully. ‘That’s what the doctor said. Right painful bugger it is too.’

Sally cursed his painful feet, which were unlikely to put him in a charitable mood.

‘Cyril, can I talk to you about something?’

‘Sure.’ He nodded to the bench beside him.

‘I’ve been offered an apprenticeship at the hair salon.’ Sally said.

The charwomen all cheered from behind her.

‘Good for you, love,’ Cyril said, looking genuinely pleased for her, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. ‘Are you giving me your notice?’

‘No. I can’t afford to give up this job, as I’ll only be on apprenticeship wages. But I’m finding it hard to do both.’

Cyril frowned. ‘You want less hours?’

Sally nodded, smiling brightly at him, hoping to win him over.

‘Can’t help, love. I’d like to. But this is a full-time job.’

Sally nodded miserably. She understood and had half expected this response. But then the door opened, and a woman with peroxided blonde hair walked in, eliciting another round of cheers from the charwomen. ‘Hallo, Mary!’

She made her way towards Cyril, who welcomed her warmly. ‘How’s that little wain of yours?’

‘Getting big and bold,’ Mary replied with a happy smile. She took a step closer. ‘The thing is, gaffer, money is tight. And, while I don’t want to leave him, I’d like to come back – for a few nights a week.’

Cyril laughed out loud. ‘What do you ladies think this is? A pick-and-bleeding-mix? That’s two of you looking for part-time work for a full-time job. Well, I never.’

Elsie moved closer and whispered to Sally, ‘You need to do the pools this weekend. I think it’s your lucky week!’ Then she turned to Cyril, ‘Even you can see the obvious solution here. Or do I have to spell it out for you?’

Cyril huffed and puffed briefly, then turned to Sally and said, ‘A free wash and set for my wife, and I’ll allow it.’

Sally threw her arms round him in delight, and then Elsie orchestrated an impromptu cha, cha, cha train line dance, with Cyril at the head, and the other girls joining in behind them.

With her heart racing for joy, Sally thought, I’m doing it, Sister Jones. I’m chasing that dream, and you know what? I’m going to get it too.