“It’s what I want.”

“You sure? That’s full shave, short back and sides, left parting, heavy on the bay rum. Touch of brilliantine to catch the stage lights if you’re auditioning for something? I can even supply the buttonhole, but you’ll have to provide your own Balkan Sobranie.”

“Best you can do, Stan.”

Stan smirked. “Well, the last client who asked for that look was well pleased with the result! Take a look at this!” With a pantomime of modesty he plucked the photograph from the shelf and put it in front of the nose of the tramp, who at once burst out laughing.

He read out the inscription in blue ink written sideways over the lower part of the white jacket: “‘For Stan, coiffeur sans pareil! From Noël, artiste sans pareil!’ Well, well!”

“He was down here on tour last year, starring in his own play, The Young Idea. Fast, witty stuff! I sat through two shows, matinée and evening. Full of bounce—it went down well in Cambridge, where ‘young’ is the only idea. Lovely bloke! Barrel of laughs and no airs and graces. We were Stan and Noël before you could say ‘razor.’ Elegant bloke, too! Shame about the ears. Now then, face first. Shears, I think for the preliminaries, then I’ll close in with the old cutthroat.”

He worked away with deft fingers and soothing chatter, conscious that his client’s mind was elsewhere and that his eyes never left the mirror that reflected the scene in the street behind him. Probably watching out for the local rozzers. The boys in blue always harassed the vagrants at this time of year. Bastards! Always on the lookout for an easy target or an easy mark. Stan felt his client’s slight twitch of alarm when the doorbell tinkled and a customer strolled in.

“Good afternoon, sir!” Stan greeted him. “Take a seat. Someone will be with you directly. Ambrose!” he called, summoning his assistant from his tea break. “Forward, please! Client for chair three.” Swiftly assessing the quality of the man’s blazer and flannel bags and deciding between rich tourist and Maurice Chevalier slumming it, he added in a teasing, fluting tone, “Take care of the gentleman’s canotier, would you, Ambrose?”