ISABEL'S

Jean found Clive charming and attractive - until she learnt the truth

- Jill Stitson

Stepping through the door of Isabel's was in time, but Jean delighted in the sight of several elderly ladies sitting contentedly under huge, humming hairdryers. She always felt like a mere youngster here.

'Morning, girls. Morning, Paul, she said, smiling as she squeezed past the umbrella stand.

As always, she blessed the day she had discovered Isabel's. Two years earlier, after her husband had passed away, and newly arrived in a small Dorset town, Jean had looked in the various hairdressers along the high street and gazed at their exorbitant prices in despair.

Turning into an old-fashioned arcade, she had spotted Isabel's. She had been greeted warmly, and the price list was so reasonable that Isabel's soon became her hairdresser.

'The usual this morning, Jean?' said Paul.

'Do you know, I might try something different today. I'm feeling adventurous.'

'How about flicking up the ends of your bob? What do you think, Ivy?' Paul turned to the tiny lady in the next chair, who was having what seemed to be hundreds of small curlers removed from her snow-white hair.

'Whatever you say, Paul. Bright blue eyes turned to him and she smiled. 'My son, Clive, is picking me up today. Did I tell you he'd moved down here?' She turned back to her magazine.