Vaulting Ambition
The postman remembered that he had booked his next hair appointment for that morning before his next round.
He was just about to place his next lot of mail into his van when the memory appeared in his head.
The postie’s eyes bulged, and his mouth dropped to the floor.
After flinging the last parcel into the back of the vehicle, he slammed the back door shut and leapt into the driver’s seat.
He zoomed towards the main High Street in Cygninia, where, fortunately, there was one parking space directly outside Marshall Food & Clothes, and ran across the road.
The mail delivery person squeezed into a small alcove offset from the main road and breezed into Hair with Flair, Cygninia’s trendy unisex hair salon.
Once he had crossed the threshold, the postman sighed heavily and buckled his knees.
Kate Thompson, the owner of Hair with Flair, briefly glanced at the man who had just entered and smiled.
She pivoted away from the person whose hair she was cutting, clasped her hands, and bowed her head.
”Pat, good morning,” she said.
The postman’s face glowed as he stepped further into the salon. “Sorry, I’m a bit late. I almost forgot I had an appointment.”
”That’s perfectly fine,” Kate said, straightening her posture and gesturing towards a young man in the far corner. “Gary’s waiting for your arrival.”
”Thanks,” the postman said, nodding as he approached Gary.
But before he could make it, another client who was having her hair cut stopped him.
”I know you’re hiding a secret,” the client, a young woman, said, glaring at him.
The mailman’s face turned ashen; he pressed his arms tight to the sides of his body and swallowed some saliva.
”Do I, indeed,” he said, jamming his hands into his armpits.
The woman’s glare turned into a scowl. “Yes, the letter I’ve sent to him.”
She gestured towards a man seated in the far corner, having his hair cut by another of the four hairdressers working in the salon.
The postman’s pose slumped, laughing shakily. “Oh right, yeah, I may have. When flinging them into the van, I don’t look at individual letters.”
The woman leaned back and beamed. “Make sure you give it to him.”
”Sure,” the postman said before waltzing towards his hairdresser, Gary Young, who was waiting for him by his chair.
The woman, a makeup artist named Felicity Walker, tilted her head to the side as she stared at the man next to her, who was having his hair cut.
”I’m intrigued to know what letter this is you speak of,” Sophie Johnson, Felicity’s hairdresser, said, her eyebrows raised.
Felicity lightly shook her head and smiled. “I’ve written Rob a letter telling him how I feel.”
“Ah,” Sophie nodded, a knowing smirk on her face. “I would have thought Valentine’s Day was a more opportune date to choose.”
Felicity adjusted her position, staring directly into the mirror as Sophie trimmed her locks.
”No, that would have made it too obvious,” Felicity said. “I just felt I needed to get it off my chest.”
Felicity’s crush, a pastry chef called Max Fisher, briefly glanced at Felicity, who ducked under her hands as a form of shelter.
“You need to remove your hands, Felicity,” Sophie said, bobbing her head up and down to find a way through them with her scissors. “I can’t see what I’m doing otherwise.”
”Of course, sorry,” Felicity said, putting her hands down and sitting up. “Max looked at me, that’s all.”
Sophie squinted at Max, gazing at his reflection in the mirror whilst his hairdresser worked wonders.
”There is a possibility that you could bypass the letter altogether and profess your feelings to him in person before he makes his leave,” Sophie said, snipping a large lock of hair off her client’s head.
Felicity clung to her seat. “I can’t. I need to be a safe distance away when he finds out.”
Sophie laughed. “You have to conquer the fear of rejection if your coupling is to prosper.”
Felicity placed her head in her hands and sighed. “It’s stupid, I know. He’s going to say yes, and the relationship will work.”
She leaned back in her chair. “We fit like a glove.”
Sophie smirked. “That’s the spirit.”
”It’s not just in my head,” Felicity said, grabbing the glass of water before her and taking a sip. “I know it will happen; I can see into the future.”
Sophie cackled, narrowly missing Felicity’s scalp with her scissors. “You overcame your phobia pretty quickly.”
“No, really, I can,” Felicity said, moving her head around in Sophie’s direction. “I can prove it; in a few moments, an act of barbarism is about to take place.”
As if by magic, on the large flat-screen TV mounted to the salon’s wall, the Morning Tea reported that a resident liked to have ketchup and mayonnaise on their fruit scones rather than the usual jam and cream.
Sophie retched as she watched the news, then examined her client. “That was nothing more than a stroke of luck, I assure you.”
Felicity cracked her knuckles. “Gary’s next client is about to make a grand entrance into the salon.”
A rather gruff man marched up to the glass door leading into the salon; he opened the door with a kick.
All in the salon who were able to turned towards the new arrival.
Kate scowled at the unexpected visitor and crossed her arms.
”Hey! Be careful with that,” she said.
The gruff man gawped at the door he had just kicked open, then turned back to Kate.
”Nothing broken, love,” he said, slamming the door shut and rubbing his hands. “Now then, let’s get this thing over with, shall we?”
Kate frowned at the new client and gestured towards the room’s far corner. “Fine, Gary’s waiting for you.”
Sophie watched as the man stumbled over to Gary, who brought him into a warm brotherly embrace before sitting him down for his routine trim.
She frowned as she twisted the ends of her sleeves.
”Two lucky coincidences happening in close succession is relatively rare, I admit, but it’s still possible,” she said as she turned back around and resumed cutting her client’s hair.
“Watch the news,” Felicity said, her eyes darting towards the screen. “The Cygnin is about to appear.”
Sophie glared at the screen. Sure enough, a news reporter appeared next to the River Cygnin.
”I’m here at the busy thoroughfare that runs alongside the Cygnin,” the reporter said before gesturing to the expanse of water behind him. “As you can see, the river is calm.”
Sophie glunched at the makeup artist as she cut her hair. “So Max can only discover the truth of your affections after he’d read the letter you’ve sent him because that’s how you predict it to pan out?”
Felicity raised her chin and nodded crisply. “Yes. That’s why I posted the letter a few days ago: I foresaw what would follow, just as I can foresee the next client who’s about to walk in whose daughter wants a dog.”
Just then, a woman strode into the salon, a young girl in a denim dress at her heels.
“Could we get a dog, mummy, please,” the girl said, clasping her hands in front of her.
The woman gazed down at her charge. “They’re very expensive, darling.”
”We could adopt one, mummy,” the girl said, clinging to her mother’s dress. “I don’t mind if it’s adopted.”
Sophie grimaced at the scene before her. “I think we’ve had enough predictions for one day.”
”I can’t stop,” Felicity said, shifting in her seat. “Every waking second, I sense what’s about to happen.”
Sophie tilted her head to the side and wrinkled her nose. “How did you gain your abilities? Were you a fortune teller’s pupil?”
Felicity laughed and shook her head. “No, it just happened after I knocked my head at a makeup factory a few years ago. The fumes overpowered me.”
Sophie frowned at her client. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Felicity smiled at Sophie’s reflection. “It’s fine, I recovered. I only realised something was off when I went to a family dinner a few days later and seemed to remember events that hadn’t happened yet.”
Sophie pouted and ogled the ceiling. “Are you certain that Max will be comfortable with your predicament?”
”Yes,” Felicity said. “If he weren’t, I would have seen everything falling to pieces. But instead, I saw everything working perfectly.”
She examined Sophie’s reflection and noticed tears exiting her eyes as she worked.
Felicity’s eyebrows merged almost into one. “Why are you crying,” she eventually said.
Sophie’s head flinched back slightly, and her eyes inflated for a brief second. She wiped her eyes and analysed the wetness of her fingers.
”I haven’t the faintest idea,” she said. “I suppose I’m a little overwhelmed by your ability to reverse memory.”
Felicity chuckled to herself. “I’ll keep my predictions to myself from now on.”
Sophie simpered at her client. “Yes, I think that would be wise.”
Another client entered the salon. Upon seeing that Sophie was still busy with Felicity, he sat on the waiting sofa.
He removed his shoes, as he was wont to do when he visited the hairdressers and read the Cygninia Tittle Tattle.
Felicity glanced at her watch. “We must hurry up; two of your clients are coming in close succession.”
Sophie observed the man sitting on the waiting sofa.
”Well, one is present,” Sophie said. “I don’t see anyone-“
Just like that, a young man in a sharp suit—Chris Johnson, Sophie’s husband—stepped into the salon.
Chris and Sophie locked eyes with one another. They smiled and waved before Chris sat down beside the unshod man and gazed at the magazines beside him.
Sophie smirked as she brushed Felicity’s hair. “Nice try, but my husband is Dave’s client, not mine.”
“When I said ‘your clients’, I didn’t necessarily mean you exactly, did I,” Felicity said, crossing her arms and jutting her chin, a sneer on her face.
Sophie rolled her eyes as she continued doing her job.
Felicity’s face went blank, and her eyes widened.
She turned round as a client was about to exit the salon.
“Don’t open that door,” Felicity said, reaching out to the client.
The client scrunched their face up and raised an eyebrow. “Why ever not,” they said.
They were startled by a window box falling from the sky outside and smashing on the other side of the door.
The client gazed down at the pile of soil, ceramic shards, and Geraniums on the floor.
They glanced back at Felicity, their eyes wide open and mouth agape.
Felicity relaxed her face after wincing at the impact of the box. “That’s why,” she said, turning back round to face the window in front of her.
The client brushed themselves off, opened the door, and stepped over the thing that may have landed on their head had they left a few seconds before.
”I see that your condition can be pretty helpful at times,” Sophie said as she held up a small mirror behind Felicity.
“Yes, I guess it can,” Felicity said, nodding in approval of Sophie’s handiwork.
The make-up artist vacated her seat and followed Sophie to the reception desk.
Sophie opened a black pen and flicked the extensive diary before her.
“Is 23rd June at 08:00 satisfactory?” Sophie said.
”Yes, it is,” Felicity said.
As Sophie wrote the date in her diary, some of the people in the salon turned their eyes towards Felicity.
They began to clap. Felicity shot up and scanned the room, noticing everyone applauding her.
Sophie observed the rapturous audience. “Why is everyone applauding you.”
A wide grin appeared on Felicity’s face. “Possibility because I averted disaster by telling someone to wait before leaving the building.”
She bowed her head at the group in front of her.
Sophie crossed her arms tightly around her torso and pursed her lips.
”Oh really, are they now?” Sophie said, a sullen look on her face.
Felicity paid Sophie what she owed and then waved to the crowd as she vacated the premises.
Sophie waltzed over to the unshod man, gave him a curtsy, and escorted him to her chair.
She glanced momentarily at her husband, who was sound asleep despite the day only just beginning.
”Fortunately, a young woman was here to save that man’s life, right?” Sophie’s client said as she placed a black robe around him.
“Yes,” Sophie said. “I hope her foray into romance will be every bit as successful.”
The unshod man laughed. “You worry too much.”
Sophie pursed her lips as she examined her client. “Whatever do you mean?”
”Every time I have my haircut, you fret about minor things,” the man said. “Relax, everything will be fine.”
Sophie’s expression became vacant. She was not sure what her client was talking about.
As she cut the man’s hair, she glanced at the news on TV.
It reported on the first few days of Cygninia’s new Federal Administrative Board, which her husband Chris was recently elected to.
They were getting into trouble, as the change they’d promised voters had not materialised, even though three days had passed since the election.
Sophie smirked as she watched the news. At university, she decided to avoid the vast, unnavigable jungle that was British politics, and she became more certain that was the right choice as time went on.
“I wonder if Felicity had predicted this,” Sophie thought to herself, a small smile on her face.
”But, what have you done,” the besocked man said as Sophie cut a lock of his hair.
Sophie did a double take and blinked rapidly. “My apologies; what were you saying?”
”What have you done since I last saw you,” the man said. “I’m just trying to make conversation.”
Sophie prised a comb through a matted bit of her client’s hair. “Well, nothing particularly of note.”
She glanced at the news again; a rowing boat was stranded in the river, and bystanders on either bank were having trouble rescuing the people onboard.
Sophie smiled at the TV before gazing at the floor.
A fifty-pence piece was starting up at her.
She momentarily bent down to pick it up and examined it.
”Nothing was more fascinating than cutting the hair of a lovestruck woman who appeared to foresee the future,” she said, placing the coin in her pocket.
After that, she picked up her scissors and continued to cut her client’s hair.
The Robinsonverse 