That did it. There was no way I could turn him away now. I, of all people, understood how comforting a trip to the hairdresser could be at a difficult time.

‘I’ll see what I can do,’ I told him. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Mark. Mark Walsh.’

‘All right then, Mark, take a seat. I’m Jenny, and I’ll be your stylist today. I’ll be with you as soon as I can.’

He settled down in one of the cane chairs by the bay window and watched me as I picked up the hand mirror and showed Mrs Brinsdown the back of her new hairdo.

‘Hm. I can’t help wondering if it isn’t a little bit long,’ she said doubtfully as I put the mirror away. ‘I do like my hair to last.’

‘I think it looks great,’ Mark said.

Mrs Brinsdown couldn’t help but look pleased.

‘Hm. Well. Perhaps you’re right.’

Anita came back in and opened up one of her client’s foils to check the colour. I went over to her and said, ‘Anita, we’ve had a walk-in. All he wants is a dry trim. I can do it before I go.’

Anita looked at me, took in the new arrival, then looked at me again, even more suspiciously than usual.

‘I don’t pay overtime, you know,’ she said.

‘I know. It won’t take me long.’

Anita pursed her lips. ‘Well, don’t rush it. If a job’s worth doing it’s worth doing well, and I don’t need any complaints.’

‘I won’t complain,’ Mark said. ‘You’d be doing me the most enormous favour.’

He could even make Anita blush. And smile.

‘Well, if you’re happy with what we do for you today, I hope you’ll come back,’ Anita said. ‘And do spread the word.’

‘I’m sure I will,’ Mark said.

Anita went off to the basins with her client and I ushered Mrs Brinsdown to the till. When she’d gone I took Mark’s coat and hung it carefully in the cupboard. It had a slim, old-looking paperback sticking out of one of the pockets: Madame Bovary. He was reading a French novel: how sophisticated was that? He settled into the chair Mrs Brinsdown had just vacated, and I stood behind him and sprayed his hair with water and detangler and ran a comb through it.

It really was good hair – thick, fair, slightly wavy, a bit like Amanda’s but not so curly. I leaned forwards and spoke to his reflection in the mirror. ‘OK, Mark, so what can I do for you today? Just a bit off the length, is it?’

‘Yes, that’ll do nicely.’

‘Would you like to grab a magazine? Or I could get your book?’

‘No, no, that’s fine. It’s nice to have an excuse to sit round thinking of nothing in particular.’

I started combing and snipping. Anita and her client came back from the basins and Anita set about cutting too. They were soon absorbed in a boring conversation about north-facing conservatories.

‘It’s really very decent of you to make the time to do this,’ Mark said. ‘I hope I’m not going to make you late.’