The fear he felt was evident in both his tone and his expression. I raised my hand and held a crooked little finger aloft. “Pinkie promise.” I said. Peter hooked his little finger around mine and the deal was done, just as our mother entered and catching us making the promise, she asked what we were doing. “Peter’s going to model my clothes and I’m going to take the photographs.” I informed her.
“Emma!” he yelped.
“Mum doesn’t count.” I claimed. Mum asked if he’d just be modelling the T shirts, jumpers and jeans, or if I planned on him modelling the skirts and dresses too. “Everything that fits.” I replied as my brother audibly gulped. “Don’t look so nervous Pete… they’re only clothes.” I said, casting him a supportive smile.
