SEVENTEEN
Liberato Zondo bided his time outside Poncenbey’s. He waited for his update following the meeting of the Council of Christ’s Hairdressers. Claudio, the VI6 parrot intelligencer, squawked the Poncenbey’s low-down in Italian, via the open sash window, recounting the hairdressers’ increasingly volatile agenda. The Italianate parrot talk was incomprehensible and highly entertaining to the assembled seven, known only to a few, to be the radical wing of Christ’s Hairdressers; The Jesuit Coiffeurs.
Derek understood what was being said, he spoke a little Italian, enough anyway. His dad had been the Cardinal of Westminster’s bricklayer back in the day, the reason why Jack Austin arranged for him to get the job as Poncenbey’s steward, that and he looked good in Speedos. Not that this loo
