The shopping trip itself was uneventful. Mum went to the fishmongers and pie shop, a home and garden store, and Superdrug where she bought herself some lipstick and a big tub of moisturizer before browsing some fashion stores, then doing the ‘big’ shop in a supermarket. Normally I’d just moan and wish she’d hurry up, but today I was unusually patient. I did begin to moan when Mum wouldn’t let me have my usual sugary breakfast cereal and told me to grab a box of boring bran flakes instead, but Mum reminded me that every time I moan or whine or complain, she’ll replace my boy clothes with girl’s clothes, one item at a time. “Good boy,” she said as I put the bran flakes in the trolley. “You can stop sulking now… otherwise you might find yourself wearing a nice nightie instead of your PJs whilst you’re eating them.”
I gulped and bit my lip, knowing she wasn’t joking. I spent the afternoon in a state of complete boredom. Not allowed out, no TV, no video games, none of my books inspired me as I’ve leafed through them numerous times in recent days and the ‘talk’ radio station mum insisted on listening to neither intrigued nor entertained me… and not being allowed any snacks between meals only added to the tedious monotony. Having my bath at 7.30 pm was the most eventful thing I’d done since we returned home from shopping… which should explain just how dull that Saturday was. “What time does Sunday School start tomorrow?” I asked.
“Eight o’clock.”
“In the morning!?”
“Well it’s not going to be eight o’clock at night is it?”
“No… I just thought it’d be after church, around lunchtime, like the last Sunday school I went to.”
“It’s going to be very different than that one,” Mum replied.
“What time does it finish?”
“Four o’clock.”
“In the afternoon?!”
“Yes, in the afternoon.”
Eight hours! Blimey, I thought. “What are we going to do for all that time?!”
“Well, I don’t know,” Mum replied. “I suppose you’ll find out tomorrow.”
I frowned. I wasn’t at all looking forward to it. “Can I watch some TV tonight?” I asked, adding “Please” for good measure.
“No Liam… it’s bedtime.”
“Now?!” I whined. “But it’s Saturday.”
“Bedtime is after bath time and it doesn’t matter what day it is Liam,” she informed me. I stuck out my lip to make it clear that I wasn’t happy about having to go to bed before 8 pm. “Sulk all you like young man.” my mother said before sending me to my room and telling me that she didn’t want to see or hear from me before morning.
I sulked myself to sleep and was woken by my mother. “What time is it?” I yawned as she opened my curtains.
“Ten to seven,” she replied. “Come on… up!” she said, pulling my duvet off me.
“It’s too early.” I moaned.
“You’ve got to be at Sunday school for eight remember.”
“Oooh.” I groaned. I hadn’t woken up enough to remember that prospect. “I don’t really have to wear that dress do I?”
“Yes, Liam, you really do.” she sternly stated.
I ate breakfast in my pajamas, then went to the bathroom to wash up and brush my teeth. When I returned to my room, Mum had laid the dress on my bed and was rummaging through my underwear drawer, tossing a pair of knickers and a training bra onto the bed. With great reluctance, I donned the knickers, but unlike yesterday’s pair which were quite a close fitting, these were baggy and gathered around the legs with frilly lace, and running along the bottom half of the backside was six rows of ruffles. I fiddled with the bra but Mum fastened it for me. “Arms up.” she said, before dropping a white satin slip over my head. She told me to put my socks on whilst she unfastened the buttons that run down the back of my dress. “…and make sure the patterns are nice and straight.”
Once I had my socks on, Mum held the dress open and I hesitantly stepped into it. I hung my head in shame as she fastened the buttons. “These are really fiddly,” she said and she slowly fastened them, one by one. It seemed to take ages and once all the buttons were done, she wrapped a broad white satin sash around my waist and tied it in a big bow. “That looks nice,” she said, but I could only imagine how bad it looked. Finally, she strapped a pair of girl’s shoes to my feet and like the rest of my outfit, they were also white, save for the shiny silver buckles. They had heels, but not high ones, barely an inch I guess, but they were heels nonetheless. I stuck out my lip and began to sniffle as a tear tricked down my cheek. Mum wiped it away and said that she understood why I was upset. “But remember Liam… it was you who vandalized the garden at Cooper’s Quarry and you who chose not to reveal the names of your accomplices… so you’ve only got yourself to blame.” she reminded me.
Thankfully there wasn’t a soul on the street as we exited the house and got in the car. Mum had twisted my satin sash around to the front so it wouldn’t get squished between me and the seat and the big bow looked as bad as I’d imagined. The Sunday school was in a part of town that I wasn’t familiar with, in a single-story building with a wooden façade and its windows covered with wire mesh to stop them from getting smashed.
