Guess Who?

When an ordinary day working at the salon becomes anything but. So just who is Mr Smooth Voice? Find out in this sweet story by S. Bee

“Good morning, Monroe's hair salon. Paige speaking, how can I help you?”

As a receptionist, I parroted this line around two hundred times a day. I worked at Monroe's - a popular hair salon that catered for the northern celebrity glamour circuit.

Our client list included everyone from soap stars to models, prospective reality TV stars, who want to look their best for auditions, and of course, social media influencers.

The top-notch 'ladies who lunch' set also liked to book with us. They all wanted their locks looking the best it could be.

“I'd like to book an appointment for a cut, please Paige,” a smooth male voice began over the phone.

I didn't recognise the voice but I was impressed that he'd remembered my name.

“That's fine. Are you an existing client, sir?”

“No, I'm er - new to Monroe's.”

I'd thought so. As a receptionist with keen listening skills, I'm pretty good at remembering client's voices.

For instance, 'Husky and Raw's voice belongs to a singer in an all-girl chart band.

'Low Pitch's' owner is that geeky male comedian, and 'Chocolate and Coffee's' deep mellowness is a famous feature of the actor who plays a highly popular TV Manchester based detective.

“I don't suppose you could fit me in today?” he asked hopefully.

I quickly scanned today's appointments on the computer screen.

“Let me see.. you're in luck, sir. We've had a cancellation. Are you free at 3. 30?”

“I am. The name's Austin.”

***

Time passed and the morning flew by. I smiled and warmly greeted the familiar faces that graced our TV screens.

In between answering calls, I made them cups of the best blends of tea, brought them biscuits and tiny cakes on a plate, helped them on and off with their designer coats – sometimes I was even required to dog sit!

Luckily, the dogs were usually small (handbag size) and were happy to sit at my feet in the in- house soft dog bed.

I glanced at the clock. It was time for my lunch break.

The junior took over reception while I sank into the soft sofa in the swanky staffroom - this was one of the perks of working at Monroe's. The other was a coffee machine and free snacks.

When I checked my texts, there was just one message.

It was from my mum, who wanted to know what I wanted for tea. ' Home-made cottage pie or lasagne, love?' she'd asked.

Yes, I still lived with my parents. I didn't exactly brag about this.

It was hardly the image I wanted to create - that of a sophisticated, glamorous, independent professional... adding to the sad Bridget Jones persona, there was currently no boyfriend on the scene, either.

'Cottage pie please ' I texted Mum, as I continued to mull over this new client. That rich voice... it certainly rang a bell.

Did I know Austin? Hmm. Perhaps I did.

I thought about my day – had breakfast, flicked on the radio (I listened to a local commercial radio station) set off for work, said 'Morning' to that young, shy male postie, chatted to the neighbour's new hunky, toyboy gardener, bought a sandwich from the deli at lunchtime...

The curly haired, bushy bearded guy, with the large framed glasses, stationed behind the deli counter, sprang to mind.

He was always friendly and had a cheery smile. Did those velvety tones belong to him? I thought to myself.

I really couldn't remember. I sighed. This was hopeless. Austin could be anyone!

Suddenly, light dawned.

With that clear vocal softness, he could be Dave Dooley, the breakfast radio presenter.

Dave would have heard of Monroe's from his famous guests, wouldn't he?

He was what my mum called dreamboat material... I hastily put on the brakes when I realised that I'd got the name wrong!

Well, Dave could have used a made-up name, I reasoned.

For security reasons, clients often gave false names when booking.

They didn't want the press peering through the window when they were having their roots touched up, did they?

At 3. 315, I was asked to pop out and buy a stack of new magazines to replace the old ones.

So I didn't discover Austin's identity.

When I returned, the mystery client had been whisked away to another part of the salon.

For the second time that day, I glanced at the clock. 4 pm.

I hoped he hadn't already left... I reminded myself that a haircut didn't mean just a haircut. It involved shampooing, conditioning and a scalp massage too. Well, I thought, I'd best arrange these magazines on the coffee table...

“Hello!”

I spun round.

It was Mr smooth voice – but the voice didn't belong to Dave Dooley. Even so, my heart skipped a beat. This guy was so cute!

“What do you think of my new look? Quite a change, eh?” he grinned. “I've swapped my glasses for contact lenses - see?”

Oh...before I could comment, he peered at my name badge. “So you're Paige. That's a nice name.”

“Thank you.”

“I needed to get myself spruced up, because I want to ask this gorgeous girl out. She comes into the deli where I work and -” clearly embarrassed, he stopped, while I simply stared.

No wonder I didn't recognise him.

His mane of curls and unkempt beard had been lopped off! And the contact lenses meant I could now see his lovely deep brown eyes.

Hmm. He'd scrubbed up very nicely indeed...

Then I realised that the girl he'd mentioned could be me. I'd told him that I worked here, but I whisked my name badge off at lunch.

I decided to help him out.

“That's a tricky situation. Why not just go ahead and ask her?”

He took a deep breath, then launched straight in. “Would you like to have dinner with me Paige?”

My heart flipped. “I'd love to, Austin.”

He beamed.

Austin wasn't a glitzy famous radio presenter - but it didn't matter.

He had a wonderful voice and a winning smile. He was now smart and handsome – plus, he did a fine line in cheese savoury paninis.

Then I remembered that Bridget Jones got married and had a baby...