“So apart from your lovely dress, what else did you get for Christmas?” Lydia asked. Mark listed the alarm clock, the book about sci-fi movies and loads of gift vouchers. “So what are going to spend those on?” Lydia asked.
“I don’t know yet.” Mark replied. “Most of ’em are clothes vouchers.”
“So maybe another dress or two?” Lydia said. “You need more than one.”
“Hmm.” Mark evasively replied.
Harry entered the lounge with a tray of mulled wine and handed a glass to his wife. “Where’s Jacob?” he asked.
“Upstairs with Charlotte. She’s showing him how to apply his make-up.” Lydia said.
“I see.” Harry said, setting the other glasses on the coffee table. Its alcohol content is negligible so the kids (except Alfie) are each handed a glass. “I hope you’re not going to get any ideas about putting me in frocks.”
“You’re too old and too ugly.” Lydia replied, grinning.
“Thank heaven for small mercies.” Harry jovially said as he sat. “How you getting on with the laptop Claire?” he asked.
“Fine thanks.”
“Well if you need any help…”
“From a man?!” Claire interrupted. “I don’t think so.”
“In my day we used to have something called equality.” Harry retorted. “Whatever happened to that I wonder?”
“It failed, like the patriarchy.” Claire dryly replied.
“So how are things with you Mark?” Harry asked. “Got yourself a girlfriend yet?”
“No.” Mark replied.
“Your mother thinks you’ll be snapped up in no time now you’re learning to look pretty.” Lydia told him.
“Oh I don’t think I’m ready to start all that.” Mark bashfully said. “I’m only fifteen.”
“In my day we were all playing the dating game by the time we were teenagers.” Harry stated.
“Yes but that was the dark ages Harry when boys were too pushy… it’s different now. Patience is a virtue.” Lydia replied. “You do right to wait until a young woman takes notice of you Mark.” she said. “Assertiveness isn’t something that young women find attractive these day.”
“I know.” Mark replied. He knows all too well that the consequences of approaching a girl without invitation often ends with a knee in the balls… in fact, even calling a girl of high school age a ‘girl’ results in being kneed… young woman is the accepted term yet boys are boys well into their twenties.
“Oh!” Lydia chirped, hearing the sound of footsteps on the stairs.
Mark gulped as Jacob sheepishly returned. It must be awful having to wear such a short prissy dress, he thought… and those frilly knee socks are absolutely horrendous. Jacob isn’t wearing much make-up, a thick layer of pale pinky foundation, some mascara to bring his eyelashes out and a bright red lipstick to match his dress. His mother tells him he looks cute. His dad says he looks fine. Mark says he looks nice and bashfully Jacob says thank you. “Where’s the lovely gift Jacob gave you Mark?” Charlotte asked. It was on the sideboard. “Well bring it over to the table and I’ll paint your nails.” she told him.
“Then we should all play a game!” Lydia suggested.
“Can I have my nails painted too?” Alfie asked.
“Of course you can.” Charlotte smiled.
“Put your dolls away first Alfie.” Lydia told him.
Harry helped Alfie tidy up his toys whilst Charlotte sat the two reluctant boys at the table. From his nail varnish selection box, she asked Mark which colour he thought he might wear. With a choice of pale pink, candy pink, bright red, pinky red and reddy brown, he opted for the reddy brown colour. “Why that one?” his mother asked.
“I dunno.” Mark shrugged. “It’s the nicest.” he diplomatically said, although the real reason was because it was the least abhorrent.
“It’s also the one that most closely matches your lipstick.” his mother replied with a smile, before suggesting that Jacob should wear bright red nail varnish because that matches both his lipstick and his dress.
“Does it take long to dry?” Mark timidly asked as one by one, his mother painted his nails.
“Well it says ‘quick dry’ so we’ll just have to wait and see how quickly it dries. Some can take less than a minute and others can take up to ten minutes or longer.” she told him. “When I used to wear nail varnish I used to sniff it and when you can’t smell the solvents, it’s pretty much dried.” she said.
“Does it come off?” he asked.
“Of course.” she said, adding that she’ll have to pick up some nail varnish remover the next time they go shopping. “Now you’ve got to keep you hand flat until it’s dried.” she told him, before painting the other hand. A few moments later, Mark is sat with both hands flat on the table whilst his mother paints Jacob’s fingernails in a bright red nail varnish. “Do you bite your nails Jacob?” she knowingly asked. “Well this might help you stop.” she said. “You don’t want to be chewing on nail varnish.” she told him.