“No he’s not.” I think whilst smiling back and saying “Yeah.”
When Vincent does return he pretends to be interested as Mother holds dress after dress against him to check them for size and style. Most look like a good fit whilst others seem to have plenty of growing room. “Some of these might fit you Andrew.” Mother said as I loitered in the background.
“I don’t wear dresses!” I retorted. “Only girls wear dresses.”
“There’s plenty of boys at Sonia’s school who wear dresses.” my mother reminded me for the umpteenth time. “Try this one Sonia.” Mother said, thrusting a frock into Vincent’s hands.
I watch as he climbs the stairs, shyly clutching the rancid green dress. “Yeah but they’re all queer or summit.” I reply when he’s out of earshot.
“Something!” my mother corrects. “And no they’re not. They’re normal boys just like you.” Mother tells me as she holds one of Veronica’s cast off frocks against me.
I swipe it away in an instant. “Get that off me!” I barked.
“I was only seeing how it looks!” Mother said defensively as she held it up again, thankfully not against me this time. “It’s a pity it’s too big for Sonia… I love this style.” she says, more to herself than to me.
“She’ll grow into it.” I dryly state.
“Yes she will.” Mother replied as if in a dream. She turns towards the sound of footsteps. I turned too. Vincent appears on the stairs wearing one of Veronica’s old dresses and surprise surprise, Mother gushes over how nice he looks. After several long minutes of sickening compliments, Mother tells Vincent that she wanted me to try on the sailor dress. “I don’t know what he’s so worried about…” Mother adds as she holds it against herself, “…it’s quite boyish for a dress… no flowers, no frills.”
“It’s still a dress though.” I moaned. Vincent backs me up and says that I shouldn’t have to wear it if I don’t want to.
“Yes but, it wasn’t so long ago that you didn’t want to wear dresses either dear.” Mother said in a patronising tone.
“That was different though.” Vincent replied as he began to blush. “You don’t need another daughter.” he added.
“I know.” Mother replied as she gave Vincent a hug, “I’ve got all the daughter I need right here.” she said in a sickening tone before planting a kiss on Vincent’s forehead. God it’s weird, more so without Gregory being here to balance the male/female split. “It just seems like too long to wait to see how it looks.” Mother said.
“You can see how it looks by holding it.” I stated.
“I mean to see how it looks ‘on’.” Mother replied. “It could be months, years before Sonia grows into it.” she mused as she admired the navy blue frock. To be fair, it does look a lot better than most of the frocks she makes Vincent wear… it’s just a pity it’s too big for him, especially since Mother keeps glancing at me as she gushes over it.
Gregory has been away from little over two weeks and this conversation is starting to freak me out a bit. At least Vincent backed me up… but maybe he’s just worried that I’ll claw some attention away from him if I did wear it.
The days grow shorter and the nights draw in. The walk to school is starting to get chilly. In fact walking anywhere is starting to get chilly! One afternoon, Mother suggests we go for a walk along the old railway and up over Sykes Hill, the justification being that it’s a lovely clear day and the view from the viaduct and the top of Sykes Hill will be glorious. “Yeah but it’s freezing though!” I reply, “And it takes like an hour to get there!” I add.
“It’ll be warm enough when you’re walking.” Mother said.
“No it won’t! Everyday it’s cold walking to school, cold coming home from school and walking doesn’t make any difference.” I claimed, although I was just being stubborn and lazy.
“Sonia walks to school and doesn’t complain about the cold. She has a much longer walk than you and she doesn’t even wear trousers.”
“Yeah but she wears tights.” I replied. Since half term, Vincent no longer wears his gingham school dress, instead he wears a pleated woolly pinafore… yes it’s quite short, but he wears woolly tights with it, so it’s obviously quite warm. Unfortunately, this perspective led my mother to suggesting that I go and borrow a pair of Sonia’s school tights.
“Oh mu-um.” I moaned. “Do I have to?”
“With them or without them we’re going for a walk.” Mother stated. “Now it’s you who’s insisting you’ll be too cold, so I suggest you go and ask your sister if she’ll let you borrow a pair of her tights… it’s not like anyone will see them.” she told me.
Sheepishly, I moped upstairs and knocked on Vincent’s bedroom door. He opened the door and asked what I wanted. “Mother said we’re going for a walk and told me to borrow a pair of your tights.” I half-heartedly said.
“Woolly ones?” he asked. I nodded and frowned to make it clear that I wasn’t keen on wearing them. Vincent turned and rummaged in one of his drawers. “They’ll have to be white because all my green ones are in the wash.” she said as he pulled a pair out. “…apart from these ones.” he added, referring to the pair of burgundy woolly tights he wore beneath his corduroy skirt.
“Thanks.” I grumbled as she passed them to me. I made sure my bedroom door was closed before dropping my pants and pulling the tights on.. or trying to. There must be a knack to this. Maybe I should have asked Vincent to help… actually no, scrub that… I’ll work it out.
Mother’s voice called my name and a second later my bedroom door swung open, “Aren’t you ready yet?” she stated. I only had one leg in and was struggling to get the other foot in. Mother helped me and once on, I wasted no time in pulling my pants on to hide the tights. They felt a bit weird as they clung to my legs, but did feel really warm too. Within minutes of leaving the house, Mother asked me if I was warm enough.
I nodded and smiled bashfully. I wondered if the tights would feel just as warm without my long pants covering them. Not that I wanted to find out… it’s just that girls always look like they should be cold wearing just a pair of tights with a little skirt. “Are you warm enough?” I asked Vincent. He nodded and didn’t look cold, so I guess he must have been.
We walked along the old railway line which led us past a number of old mills, a canal wharf and eventually into the greenbelt where it crossed the Crick valley via the Wrenn Viaduct. Vincent and I couldn’t resist dropping stone chippings into the river below, although the last time we were here ‘she’ was my brother. The sun was low and the shadows were long and the view from the viaduct was fantastic, especially on such a clear day like today.
At the far end of the viaduct we left the old railway and began to climb Sykes Hill. “Race you to the top!” Vincent said and immediately began running. Being as competitive as any boy I chased after him, determined to win. I blamed the fact that he’d beaten me to the trig point at the top on the fact that he’d had a head start, albeit a small one.
From the top of Sykes Hill one can see the entire valley. Mother slowly made her way up as we admired the panoramic view. “What are you doing?” I asked Vincent as he started grabbing at his tights.
“Hitching my tights up.” he said. “They do have a habit of dropping down.”
I’d notice that too, especially when running up the hill. I tried to pinch them through my pants to hitch them back up to, but it didn’t really work. Mother must have noticed because when she got to the top, she called me to her and dug her hands inside the waistband of my jeans and pulled my tights back up for me. “Better?” she asked.
I nodded, smiled and blushed. We started down the other side which led us down into the valley and over the packhorse bridge, before making our way back up to Covenworth and eventually home.
