Scissors Sisters & Manic Panics. Ellie Phillips

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      That meeting was a pretty special moment in my life, because even though Abe didn’t exactly seem like my dad he did seem like a nice guy, and now that we’ve got to know each other better I can honestly say that he is a nice guy. When I see him he asks me loads of questions and then he listens to my answers! These are two things I am not used to. In my actual family, people ask you questions like, ‘Do you think I deserve to be spoken to like that?’ or ‘Who died and made you Queen?’ or, if it’s Great Aunty Rita (my oldest known living relative), ‘Do you have a nice Jewish boyfriend yet, bubelah?’

      Abe asks me about my ambitions, about what I’m good at, my likes, my dislikes. Even his girlfriend Sarah talks to me like I’m an adult – like we’re on a level. Sarah is pretty cool, but fussy about her hair, which is straight and thin and which she likes to hide behind. She’s one of those people who’s really really sensitive – like I bet she notices if you take a millimetre too much off her fringe. I was kind of honoured on my third visit to Bough Beeches when Sarah said I could do her hair. I think it was a big deal for her, and I made sure that I didn’t screw up.

      I shared my philosophy on hair with her and also my top tips on hairdresser-spotting, which are as follows:

      1. Hairdressers often have things stuck to their clothing – like section clips or Kirby grips. That’s because hairdressers need (but don’t have) three hands; two to do the hair and an extra one with an elongated arm to take out the clips and put them in a box on the other side of the salon. Because we only have two hands we end up sticking the clips to ourselves and then forgetting we put them there until we’re at a restaurant or a barmitzvah and a kind stranger points out that we’ve had a section grip stuck to the bottom of our jumper for the last hour, which members of our own family neglected to mention.

      2. Hairdressers are often to be found asleep on the tube at about 8.30 p.m. on a Saturday night. Sometimes they’re the people that wake up in the tube terminus at High Barnet or Amersham or other weird places you’ve never been to. You see Saturday is the busiest day of the week for a hairdresser. You stand up for ten hours cutting, washing and brushing other people’s hair, and by closing up time you are a wreck. There’s absolutely no chance you’ll get up the energy to go out yourself. That’s why some hairdressing salons are like nightclubs, with loud music and crazy hair and clothes – because this is the substitute for a night out for a hard-working hairdresser. Actual hairdresser nights out usually occur on a Monday when the salon has been closed all day.

      3. Hairdressers are acquaintance magnets. A hairdresser at a party may inspire a queue. Once the secret is out that you do hair you will never be entirely friendless, but unless you insist on charging for your services from the word ‘go’, you may end up penniless. So, if you see a tramp-woman with fabulous hair, the chances are she used to be a hairdresser. That’s a bit like the 50p lady round our way; her clothes are always in tatters and she generally looks as if she’s never eaten a square meal in her life, but every so often she gets her hair done and it’s surprisingly chic. Someone told me she used to be a hairdresser and I believe them. It totally figures.

      As I explained all this to Sarah, it did make me wonder why on earth I’d chosen this career in the first place. But the point is I have chosen it. And I am totally 100 per cent committed to it.

      Well, Abe just sat and watched us while I was cutting Sarah’s hair and listened to me talk. He didn’t interfere like your normal, real dad might – like Uncle Zé would, for example. You see I realised quite early on in our relationship that Abe might be my biological dad, but he was never going to be Dad. He’s just Abe – he’s like this extra relative I have who happens to be a nice guy. While I was cutting Sarah’s hair he was a little nervous – his hands shook a bit. But my hands didn’t shake while I was cutting because I am NOT nervous about hair. Because I know I’m good at it. At least, I thought I was until Aunt Lilah fired me.

      Now Uncle was doing his ‘dad’ bit and picking up the pieces. He waved a tenner at me.

      ‘You buy yourself a treat with that,’ he said. ‘Put it towards new clothes or something.’

      ‘I can’t, tito. I’ve just been fired. I don’t deserve it.’

      ‘Course you do; you work hard. I work hard, your Aunt Lilah works hard. We all work hard.’ Then he stood up and said, ‘That pancit needs more fish sauce,’ before disappearing into the kitchen.

      My phone buzzed. I stared at it. A text from Mum.

       What happened?

      I ignored it. The news had clearly taken less than a nanosecond to travel from Aunt Lilah to Mum. She’d be on her way round here.

      I texted Billy, just so he could get my side of things before he got Aunty’s.

       Ur mum just fired me

      Within seconds there were two texts back. One was from Billy.

       No way wot you done?

      And the other one was from my boyfriend – that’s José Antonio de Cruz himself, or Tony Cruz to the general public. He’d have clocked the text I sent to Billy, being that they’re best mates and generally hang out being geeky together.

       Wossup?

      Then the phone was ringing and Tony was on the end of it.

      ‘Dish the dirt,’ he said.

      So I put on the brave face and mopped up the tears and told him all about it. About the hair and Mrs Nellist and the sweeping and Aunty. In the telling, my personal tragedy became a good anecdote and I could just imagine Tony’s cute little head bobbing up and down. It’s his nervous tick, but it also makes him like the most positive person I know. It used to annoy me, but now I find it kind of reassuring.

      ‘Your aunt sounds as if she really lost it there,’ he said. ‘See – you should never work with your family.’

      ‘She did lose it,’ I said, ‘and you were right about not working with family. Are you nodding your head off right now?’

      ‘So what if I’m nodding my head – what is the problem with nodding my head?’ His voice went up at the end like it always does when he’s irritated. I like him even when he sounds like that.

      ‘You are way, way too positive about life. It’s not natural.’

      ‘And you are way, way too angsty. Why are you so angsty?’

      Why was I angsty?

      ‘Two reasons. Number 1: I’ve just been fired. And number 2: Have you met my family at all?’

      ‘Y’know,’ said Tony, ‘I think you badly need some TLC, maybe I’ll swing by with Billy – see what you’re up to . . .’

      I knew exactly where this was leading, because Tony Cruz is always looking for an excuse to give me Tender Loving Care. Unfortunately, it is up to every member of my family to prevent him. And as my family live all over the neighbourhood, it means that my neighbourhood is a No Booty Mr Cutie zone.

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