Sleepless Stacey
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‘I’ve had it with that man messing up my life,’ muttered Stacey as she struggled into her dressing gown.

Phil’s party next door was keeping Stacey awake. He didn’t seem bothered about getting enough sleep before his job interview the next morning. But Stacey knew she needed her own sleep or she’d be feeling terrible.

She and Phil worked at the same hair salon, and they were the only two shortlisted for the post of manager. Phil’s interview was at 9 am and Stacey’s was straight after.

Phil fancied himself with the girls, but Stacey had kept her distance. The Casanova type didn’t appeal to her. But a month ago Phil had turned up at the Sports Centre one Saturday morning.

‘Hi,’ he’d shouted before swimming over. ‘One of your pals mentioned you came here at the weekends.’

Dark haired and handsome, he pulled himself up beside her on the edge of the pool.

‘It’s always nice to meet someone from work,’ Stacey had replied coolly.

But Phil’s chat-up lines were well practised, and despite herself Stacey began smiling and laughing. Soon Phil insisted on holding her while she practiced her backstroke. But when he swam underneath and tickled her legs rather too expertly, Stacey told him it had to stop.

After the swim they sat damp-haired while sipping hot chocolate from a vending machine. At that point Stacey realised with a start that she’d started fancying Phil. But it didn’t last.

Next day at the salon Phil said, ‘I happen to be moving into a flat in your area. I didn’t know you lived there until someone let it drop the other day.’

‘Is that so?’ Stacey answered carefully, knowing there had to be more.

‘Isn’t that great?’ Phil hurried on, ‘because you could come and share my flat. We needn’t let anything get too heavy, so we could still lead our separate grown-up lives.’

So that was what it had been all about, thought Stacey. To find a woman to share his rent and warm his bed!

‘No thank you, I’ll stay put,’ Stacey had replied coldly.

In the end none of the girls at the salon took up Phil’s offer, and he had to take in a bearded student type.

And tomorrow – no, today, thought Stacey as she glanced at her watch showing 2 am, either she or Phil would be the salon’s new manager. The owner, Mr Southgate, was interviewing them at his house. Stacey hammered on Phil’s door. He opened it and grinned.

‘Worried about the interview?’ he enquired. ‘You should be. You’re not management material. Mr Southgate’s looking for someone with authority. Someone the staff will respect and fear. Whom the customers will regard as a strong presence. In short, a man like me!’

‘We’ll see about that,’ snapped Stacey, ‘meanwhile stop the noise or I’ll have the law on you.’

Stacey overslept, awoke and scrambled into her clothes, and only just made it in time to the train station. Phil was already there, looking freshly shaved and showered. But Stacey was aware of her dull hair and the dark circles under her eyes.

‘I see that late nights don’t agree with you,’ whispered Phil.

It was Sunday morning with a few people about, and Stacey resisted an urge to push Phil under the approaching train.

They got into the same compartment. Stacey began examining her face in the mirror from her shoulder bag. She despaired at what a sleepless night had done to her. Well, I’ll just have to do my best, Stacey decided as she took out her make-up.

Sometime later they reached their stop. Phil had dozed off, but some sixth sense woke him just in time. Not saying much they walked the short distance to Mr Southgate’s North London apartment.

Mrs Southgate opened the door and invited them in. She didn’t seem too welcoming.

Phil was ushered into Mr Southgate’s study while Stacey waited outside. Five minutes later Phil reappeared. He looked baffled and confused and glared at Stacey before storming out of the house.

Stacey entered Mr Southgate’s study. He got to his feet, smiling broadly.

‘Come in, my dear. Do sit down,’ he said. ‘I know all about you from your file, so I’ll get straight to the point. The job’s yours if you want it.’

‘Thank you, I accept,’ smiled Stacey.

‘The job requires certain personal qualities,’ Mr Southgate went on, ‘but I can see you have them all.’

‘Do you mean an air of authority?’ asked Stacey. Mr Southgate nodded. ‘Someone the staff will respect and fear?’ She added.

‘Oh, absolutely,’ he agreed.

‘A strong presence?’

‘No question about it,’ confirmed Mr Southgate.

‘And my colleague Phil had none of these?’

Mr Southgate lost his smile.

‘None whatsoever,’ he grunted, looking embarrassed. ‘What that young man needs is a holiday, not a high-powered job. The strain is clearly getting to him.’

Stacey left after a leisurely breakfast with the Southgates.

Yes, using some make-up on the train while Phil sat sleeping had worked wonders for her, she reflected. Especially the blue eye-shadow and the brown mascara. Then she giggled as she imagined what Phil would say when he saw his face in a mirror.

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