Page 46 of Sunrise By the Sea

‘Isn’t there a hairdresser in the village?’

‘There is. It is a lady . . . She is pupil.’

Marisa wondered if it was one of the ones who brought love songs but didn’t like to mention it.

‘And she has a lot of questions always for me.’ He looked pained.

‘I do not want to be rude but . . .’

She looked at him. ‘You don’t want me to do it.’

‘Just makink it straight at back. I cannot see it.’

‘I can’t cut hair!’

‘Will be fine.’

‘It won’t be!’

‘Marisa,’ he said. ‘You have no faith in yourself.’

‘I know that!’ she said despairingly. ‘That’s why I’m here.’

He looked at the sun, moving towards the sparkling sea.

‘Can’t I just give you cash?’ she pleaded.

His face took on a stubborn look.

‘No. Hair. Stay here.’

He went in and returned with a bowl of water, his own hair dampened down, and a pair of scissors.

‘These are kitchen scissors,’ she exclaimed.

Of course they had a pale blue handle.

‘They are not . . . used scissor. So. They are anythink scissor.’

He sat at the edge of his steps with his back to her so she could reach through the divider. Then he brandished the scissors and a comb behind him.

Marisa sighed. ‘If this is a disaster . . .’

‘Everythink can be disaster,’ said Alexei. ‘Still. We try.’

He leaned back his head on her side of the steps, and she felt the weight of it in her hands.

‘Don’t lean too far.’

‘Thank you. Don’t die for haircut. Is good advice.’

Marisa began to comb out the bushy head. He had his eyes closed, and she understood why: it was oddly personal this, to be so close to someone, especially when you had access to scissors. It had, she realised, been a long time since she had been in such close proximity to another human being, particularly a stranger.

That seemed so awful; to lose something as fundamental as touch.

She combed everything in a straight line, then did what she’d seen hairdressers do and held a line of it between her fingers, then snipped it off.

‘Hmm,’ said Alexei.

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