I dropped my school bag and eagerly headed to my room. Mother wasn’t far behind me. I don’t know why but the very last thing I expected to see was a white dress hanging from my wardrobe door… I guess it was the tone that Mother said ‘there’s something for you’… it hinted at something I’d approve of. I stopped in my tracks. My jaw dropped. Mother’s hands rested on my shoulders. “I bought it today.” she said. “What do you think?”
“It… it’s horrible.” I managed to murmur, before gulping so hard that I almost swallowed my tongue.
“Well I didn’t expect you to like it.” she said. “But I had to get you one before Sunday.”
“You could have told me!” I muttered.
“Would you have rather chosen it yourself?” Mother asked. “Maybe tried a few on ’til we found one you liked?” she suggested.
“No!” I whined. I guess under the circumstances, it is best that she just went and bought one whilst I was at school. I briefly imagined being shown around a dress shop and Mother holding them against me.
“Do you want to try it now or wait ’til Sunday?”
“No!” I yelped.
“No, you don’t want to wait until Sunday… or no, you don’t want to try it now?” Mother asked
“I don’t want to try it now… or ever.”
“Well Sunday it is then.” she said. She removed the dress from its hook and admired it.
I noticed its buttons on the back and gulped. I imagined myself being buttoned into it and prepared myself to swipe it away if Mother went to hold it against me, but she didn’t. “Where are you going?”
“You don’t want to try it on so I’m putting it away.” she said, adding “Somewhere that it won’t get damaged before Sunday.”
I couldn’t get the dress out of my head for the rest of the day… I’d only seen it briefly but its image lingers in my mind; its collar, its sleeves, its skirt and all those buttons tiny on the back. I imagine it being quite tricky to remove myself. I maintain a glimmer hope that my mother’s just trying to scare me and that I won’t really have to wear a dress for Sunday School… but deep down, I know that I will.
I consider running away from home, but that’d only land me in even more trouble and being a mere eleven years of age, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to fend for myself. At least it gave me something else to think about. I imagined hiding out in the woods, making a camp and foraging for mushrooms and berries. I visualise being a real survivor like Bear Grills, but the reality would be more Stig of the Dump. I wonder about stowing away on a cargo ship, being found and made to mop the deck or being cast ashore on a desert island with palm trees, pirates and treasure… but round these parts the only boats are on the canal so I doubt I’d get anywhere very quickly. I imagined myself as Oliver Twist.. heading for London and being taken in by Fagan’s gang and making my living thieving and begging… then I remember when Oliver wakes up in the big posh house wearing a frilly white nightshirt… and all of a sudden my meandering thoughts came to crashing end and an image of me wearing that dress immediately pops into my head. I gulp and dread the prospect of actually wearing it.
Tomorrow is Saturday so it’ll be OK. It’s Sunday I’m worried about. Since I’m under curfew and in a whole lot of trouble… I’m not allowed to play video games or watch any of the TV shows I like. I complained that I was bored. “You could tidy your bedroom before you have your bath.” Mother suggested. I claimed that my bedroom was tidy, and added that I had a shower yesterday. “Well tidy your room again.” Mother impatiently suggested, before telling me that I will be having a bath tonight. “In fact it’s bath night every night from now on.” she added.
I apathetically tidied my room, which kept me occupied for all of five minutes. Mother eventually ran the bath and watched over me, making sure I used the nail brush and both shampooed and conditioned my hair. I felt like a six-year-old, having to bathe in the presence of my mother. Mother said she didn’t care how I felt. “I’m not letting you out of my sight until I know I can trust you again,” she informed me.
