Unbeknown to William, three other girls had crept around the back of the pavilion and were approaching from behind.
“Actually William… it is William, isn’t it?” she asked.
“It is our business,” she said.
“We’re missing class because you’re skipping school, and it’s our job to find you and take you in.”
“Not on your Nellie!” William retorted before turning to run, only to discover three more girls wearing identical uniforms stood with arms folded and a serious expression on their faces.
“Ahhhhhhhhgh” William yelps, before darting across the old cricket ground towards Hinckley Street.
The girls give chase and are gaining ground.
William vaults over the gate but not very well and ends up tumbling to the ground on the other side.
He leaps to his feet, glancing behind to the five girls giving chase.
They climb the gate more cautiously than he and he gains some distance.
“Haha!” he laughs, running backward and still gaining ground.
“You gotta do better than that!” he hollers, before turning forwards again and running straight into another group of girls.
“Jesus where did you…!”
They stop him in his tracks, grabbing his arms.
“Get off!” he yells as he struggles to free himself.
“Agaaaah!” he says as they put him on his knees.
One of the two teachers steps forward.
“William Dowson, I presume?”
“Who wants to know?” William angrily retorted.
“Get these girls off me!”
“That’s no way to address your new schoolmates William.” the teachers says as the girls giving chase catch up.
“You all OK?” he asked.
“Oh yes… we love a good boy hunt Sir.” one of the girls replied.
“He was smoking Sir.” another said, handing the packet of cigarettes to the teacher.
“You know these things are bad for you?” the teacher said as he put the pack in his pocket.
“So what!” Wayne spat.
“Put him in the bus.” the teacher said.
“…and keep hold of him.” he added.
William shouted a string of obscenities as the girls bundled him into the minibus.
“Arghhhh Jesus!” he yelped when one smacked him very hard on his bottom.
The smack calmed his struggle as he instinctively curled himself.
“Can we debag him Sir?” one of the girls asked.
“What do you think?” the male teacher asked his female colleague.
She turned to the girls and looked down on the boy, pressed against the floor, flailing as best he could.
“Yeah… you can do so, but don’t hit him unless you have to,” she said.
“Thank you Miss.” the girls giggled before beginning to unceremoniously remove the boy’s garments.
First his monkey boots, then his socks.
He’d managed to struggle himself out of his parka jacket on his way into the van.
By the time they’d peeled his jumper from him, his jeans were around his knees.
He could do nothing but shout obscenities as his clothes were ripped from him,
It was only when they had completely finished that he finally quietened down.
The girls bundled him up from the floor onto a bench seat and put him between two of them.
William’s face bore an expression of utter terror.
Meanwhile, at Saint Urshalla’s School for Girls, it’s morning break, and the pupils filtered from their classrooms into the enclosed schoolyard.
Andrew had had an hour or two to get used to his uniform whilst everyone else wears the same.
He felts completely out of place being one of seemingly a handful of boys in the whole school.
He walks awkwardly in his black T-bar sandals with their two-inch heels; heels that strike the parquet flooring noisily with every step.
Burgundy tights cover his legs up to his mid-thigh where his tartan pinafore dress takes over.
His bunches bounce awkwardly around his ears as he’s bustled along with the rest of the kids and eventually out into the yard.
“You!” an adult voice hollers. “New boy!”
Andrew turns to see one of the teachers looking at him and beckoning him toward her.
Sheepishly, Andrew saunters over, scraping the occasional heel against the undulating surface.
“Yes Miss.” he humbly says.
“Take this and play over there,” she says, handing him a skipping rope and pointing to a corner of the yard.
“Err…” Andrew croaks as he hesitantly takes hold of the skipping rope. “I can’t… I don’t know how to.”
“You’ll learn.” she sternly says. “Just follow the others.”
With his head hung low, Andrew does as he’s told and goes to the corner of the schoolyard where a handful of other kids are skipping.
Some were on the minibus and like him, are boys in a girl’s school.
A trio of busty prefects watches over them. “Don’t just stand there boy!” one says to Andrew, prompting him to join in.
“I can’t do it,” he claimed.
“Try!” she barked.
Alan observed the others and followed suit.
He held the wooden grips in each hand and hung the rope at the back of his ankles, before trying and failing numerous times to skip over the rope.
His continued failure was almost as embarrassing as having the prefects snigger at his ineptitude, but neither of these are as embarrassing as the girl’s school uniform he was given soon after arrival.
The sound of a car horn is quickly followed by a loud whistle.
Everyone stops what they’re doing and a handful of teachers tell the pupils to move to one side of the schoolyard.
The big iron gates are opened and the school’s minibus slowly drives into the yard.
Its sliding side door is opened and two girls get out… then in full view of the entire school, a very timid William is helped out.
A host of cheers and jeers greet him.
“Looks like they’ve found your friend.” one of the pupils says to Andrew.
He’s escorted into the building and the minibus is reversed out of the yard.
The gates are shut and one of the teachers yells “Carry on!”
Andrew is dumbfounded with what he’d just witnessed. “Carry on!” one of the prefects prompts.
“You’re not allowed to just stand around.”
“Er…” Andrew replied, before continuing trying and failing to skip.
“I can’t do it in these shoes,” he claims.
“Everyone else can.” the perfect retorts, drawing his attention to the other boys who are skipping in the same style of footwear.
“They’ve had more practice than me,” Andrew claimed.
“Well practice.” the perfect barked.
“Don’t just stand there looking gormless.”
Alan hung his head before swinging the rope over and attempting to skip over it…
However being unaccustomed to wearing shoes with heels, he daren’t jump more than an inch or two.
Within a couple of minutes, the school bell rings and brings great relief to Andrew.
Everyone filters back inside.
The boys who’d been skipping hand their ropes back to the teacher.
“I was the same on my first day.” one of the boys said to Andrew as they walked two by two back to class.
“Didn’t have a clue how to skip,” he added.
“You’ll soon get the hang of it.”
“Not in these shoes,” Andrew replied.
“Do we have to do that every break?”
“Yeah… if it’s not skipping it’s hop-scotch.” the boy replied.
“I presume that was your mate they brought in?”
“Yeah…William.” Andrew said.
“I can’t believe they dragged him in.”
“That’s what happens if you try to skip a day at Saint Urshallas.”
Meanwhile, a tearful William is being confronted with his new school uniform.
Having flat refused to don the knickers and training bra, four prefects, under the watchful eye of two teachers and the school nurse have bundled him onto a big vinyl-covered bench and hold his limbs steady.
“If you don’t wear your correct undergarments William, I’ll have to put you in this for the day.” the nurse tells him, holding up a big terry nappy.
“And you’ll be put in one every day until you change your mind… so what’s it going to be?” she asked.
William informed the nurse that under no circumstances was he going to wear the correct undergarments.
The nurse very casually began to fold the flat nappy and as she began to shuffle it under him,
William began to have second thoughts.
“OK… OK… I’ll wear them.” he said.
“Are you sure?” the nurse asked.
“Because one more cross word from you young man and I will put you in a nappy… and believe me, you will use it.”
The nurse gave the girls a nod and the released him from their grip, but remained poised to grab him if need be.
William sat up on the bench and placed his bare feet on the cold tiled floor.
The underwear he was so keen to refuse doesn’t seem so bad when the alternative is a nappy.
He steps into the knickers and pulls them all the way up.
He gulps and looks down at them.
White cotton with a narrow band of baby pink elastic around the waist and leg-holes.
One of the prefects instructs him in the art of fastening a bra and once it’s one, she patronisingly says
“That wasn’t so hard was it?”
He perches nervously on a plastic chair as he prepares to don the tights.
He’s instructed how to do it the easy way, but it’s fiddly, shuffling them up his legs bit by bit.
Next comes his blouse; plain white with plastic flower-shaped buttons up the front and short puffed sleeves.
An occasional tear finds its way to his cheek which he quickly wipes away with the back of his hand.
The pinafore is an awkward garment.
He steps into it and buttons the skirt at his waist, then fastens the bib to the back with four buttons on the front.
An elasticated tie goes around his neck before he pushes his burgundy feet into a pair of black heeled shoes.
Everything is awkward and fiddly, from the buttons on his blouse to the buckles on his shoes.
Once they’re on he begins to stand but is told to remain seated.
He felt that his sense of total and utter humiliation couldn’t get any worse, but it does as one of the prefects tends to his hair, tying it in two high bunches and securing it with lengths of burgundy ribbon.
Finally, he dons a burgundy blazer and is given a small leather shoulder bag before being taken to the school’s head.
“Glad you finally decided to join us William.” the stern-looking lady says as he stands sheepishly in front of her desk.
He’s flanked by two prefects.
“It seems you gave us quite the run-around this morning,” she added.
“We do not tolerate truancy at Saint Urshalla’s.
If you do go absent without leave, you can rest assured that you will be found and you will be brought back.
Since today is your first day, I’ll let this one pass.
But should you try the same trick tomorrow or any other day, your suspension from your other school will be extended by one week, thus extending your stay here.” she told him.
“Any other misdemeanours, such as spitting or swearing, being rude, obnoxious or disobedient will result in a one day extension for each and every violation.
Do you understand?”
William gulped. “Yes Miss.”
“Now, as you’ve probably noticed, this is a girl’s school and whilst you’re here, you’ll be treated as such.”
William gulped again.
“We do the utmost to help our boys fit in, so whilst you’re here, you’ll answer to the name Winifred.”
“What?!”
“Winifred.” the headmistress repeated.
“It’s vaguely similar to your real name so you can remember it, but a little more suitable for a pupil in a girl’s school.”
William gulped. He nervously thumbed the strap of the bag that hangs from his shoulder.
Inside is a spare pair of tights, a clean pair of knickers and a handkerchief.
The prefects carry similar bags with their names neatly written behind a transparent plastic panel.
The headmistress slides a rectangular slip of paper across her desk and prompts William to take it.
He steps forward and picks it up. ‘WinifredDowson: 3C’ is written in ink. 3C is his class, the name is also his.
He reluctantly slips it into the slot on his little shoulder bag before letting it hang dankly on his hip.
“Janice.” the headmistress says to one of the prefects.
“Yes miss?”
“Thank you for your time.
You may return to class.”
“Yes miss.
Thank you miss.” Janice says before dropping a quick curtsey and leaving.
“Amanda.” the headmistress says to the remaining prefect.
“Yes miss?” she enthusiastically replied.
“Will you escort Winifred to class, and chaperone her for the remainder of the day.” the headmistress asked.
William grimaced as he was not only referred to as ‘Winifred’, but also as ‘her’.
Amanda wasn’t quite so enthusiastic the second time she said ‘yes miss’.
“You may go.” the headmistress said.
“Thank you miss.” Amanda said before dropping a quick curtsey.
William gulped.
Amanda glared at him.
The headmistress stared at him.
William gulped again before muttering “Yes miss.” and carefully and cautiously curtseying.
At the moment, his humiliation was so great that he swore to himself that there’s no way he’s coming back here tomorrow.
He’ll run as far as London if he has to.
He follows Amanda awkwardly along the corridor.
Their two pairs of heels clack a syncopated rhythm on the hardwood floor.
“This place is worse than I thought.” he grumbled.
“It’s actually a very good school. The best in town.” Amanda replied.
“Maybe if you’re a girl.” he groaned.
“So far as everyone’s concerned, you are a girl… Winifred,” she replied.
“I’m not… and my name’s William!” he retorted, adding ‘stupid cow’ under his breath.
Amanda drew him to a halt and looked him in the eye.
“Look. Winifred,” she said.
“I don’t want to chaperone you all day when I should be attending my own classes, but since I am, I’m the one who’s keeping count of your misdemeanors… so don’t upset me, Winifred.
I alone could keep you here for twice as long as you should be.”
Wayne gulped and hung his head.
“Sorry.” he muttered.
“Since you’re new I’ll let you off… but don’t expect to get off scot-free if you call anyone else a stupid cow, especially a perfect.” Amanda advised.
She continued walking and William sheepishly followed.
Amanda drew him to a halt outside a classroom and knocked on the door. “Enter!” a voice said.
Amanda and William entered the class.
“This is the new boy sir; Winifred Dowson,” Amanda said as William hesitantly glanced at the faces that glared at him.
“About time Winifred.” the teacher said. “Take a seat.”
He sat at a vacant double desk alongside Amanda but struggled to concentrate on what was being said.
All William can do is imagine just how ridiculous he must look, especially with his hair in a pair of cute girlie bunches.
The teacher prattled on about Edwardian Britain, throwing out occasional questions to his class.
Half a dozen hands would go up and the teacher would select one to reply.
She (or he, it’s hard to tell) would stand before offering their answer, and before seating themselves, they’d always curtsey first.
Some wore their hair in bunches, much like his own.
Others had plaits or a high pony tail.
A few had neither, but all wore either white or burgundy ribbons in their hair.
“Who can name a British Prime minister from the Edwardian era?” the teacher asked.
“You, Charlotte.” he said after a number of hands went up.
Charlotte stood up as the remaining hands went down. “David Lloyd-George sir.” she said, but it was clear to William that Charlotte is really a boy, probably called Charles.
“Wrong!” the teacher bellowed. Charlotte curtseyed awkwardly and sat.
“Any one else?” he asked.
No one put their hand up. “What about our new boy?” he said, turning his gaze toward William.
“Any idea Winifred?”
“No sir.” William meekly replied.
“Stand when you speak!”
William hesitated, then stood.
“No sir.” he repeated.
“Can you name a political party that held office during the Edwardian era?”
“Er…” William gulped and guessed. “Conservative… sir.”
“Very good.” the teacher replied. William began to sit but stopped himself, offering a quick yet clumsy curtsey first.
“The conservative party held office until 1905…” the teacher continued.
Meanwhile, Andrew is in a different class but it’s being run in much the same way.
The pupils are attentive and obedient.
They stand before they speak and curtsey before they sit, and just like William, Andrew is uncomfortable with the name he’s been given.