As Daniel made his way home, he couldn’t help but reflect on his morning’s work. “Maybe I should have been more assertive and refused to wear Jolanta’s uniform again.” he pondered. “It’s not like I’d got caught in a downpour again,” he grumbled, before wondering if by reluctantly accepting it, he’s now a transvestite. “It’s not like I’ve chosen to wear it.” he thinks. “…and I didn’t exactly enjoy wearing it.” he mumbled to himself. “It wasn’t that bad… until I went outside.” he mused, before recalling every glance at his reflection. He quickly raised his hand to his head to double-check that he’d removed the little lacy cap, before picturing himself reflected in the large hallway mirror. It wasn’t so much the uniform that looked ridiculous but combined with his hairy legs and grey ankle socks, the whole image did. He briefly pondered how he might improve the image but all he could think was either shaving his legs or donning a pair of tights. Neither sat easy with him, so instead, he wondered if a pair of black knee socks might be better. They’d certainly be warmer the next time he has to sweep the patio.

Daniel has his regular meeting with his probation officer at 4 pm, but beforehand, he goes shopping for an inexpensive yet decent raincoat. The probation officer is impressed that he’s found some regular work and it appears to be going well for him. Daniel mentions nothing of the uniform but as he describes his cleaning routine, he can’t help but visualize himself wearing it. “…and when you’re not cleaning for this lady… are you continuing to go door-to-door throughout the rest of the week?” the probation officer asked.

“Yes of course.” Daniel replied, “I go round Pluston one day and Highgrove the next.”

“Well keep it up and keep records… you need to be able to show the DWP that you’re trying to find work, otherwise they’ll sanction you and suspend your payments.” the probation officer advised.

Daniel takes his wage receipts and work-search records to the DWP so they can calculate his monthly welfare payment. They’re underwhelmed that he’s only finding around eight to ten hours work each week but are satisfied that he’s spending the rest of the time actively looking for work which means he won’t be sanctioned… not this week anyway. Being on benefits is like living on a knife edge. There’s a fine line between living in relative poverty and being absolutely penniless since all it takes is being five minutes late for a meeting and they’ll suspend your payments for six whole weeks.

He enjoys a quiet weekend, tidying and cleaning his bedsit to the standards that Mrs Haverthwaite would expect. On Monday he trudges around, knocking on doors and getting them shut in his face, and on Tuesday, he heads back to Mrs Haverthwaite’s. “Good morning Daniel. Did you have a nice weekend?” she asked as she let him in

“Not bad thank youyou,” he replied. “Just hung out at home and watched TV.”

“Is it a nice apartment?”

“It’s just a bedsit,” he confessed. “Although the agent called it a ‘studio apartment’ which is a bit of an overstatement for one room containing a sink, cooker, fridge, sofa and bed, and the smallest bathroom you’ve ever seen.”

“Sounds like my digs when I was at university,” she replied.

“What did you study?”

“Economics,” she replied.

“I’m not even sure what that is.”

“It’s finance and stock markets, statistics and analytics,” she replied, describing it as boring but it did lead to her career as an investment banker.

“I’m not sure what that is either.”

“It’s a lot of calculations and a lot of responsibility,” she said, before suggesting he get himself ready.

In the utility room hangs his uniform which has been laundered and dried since Friday but not ironed. He swiftly irons the dress, apron, and cap before donning them, then he gulps and pauses before exiting the utility room. Mrs Haverthwaite, as usual, looks him up and down as he emerges. “Are you wearing tights Daniel?” she noticed.

“Err… socks.” Daniel timidly replied as he raised his skirt just a little. They are in fact over-knee socks, the cuffs of which sit just an inch above his knees. “My hairy legs looked wrong with my dress,” he explained. “You don’t mind do you?”

“Not at all.” Mrs Haverthwaite replied as he let the frock and apron drop. “But I don’t mind you having hairy legs,” she said, adding that he is a boy after all.

“I err… shaved them.” he gulped.

“I see.” Mrs Haverthwaite cautiously replied. “May I see?”

“Erm…” Daniel blushed, before pushing one of his socks down to the ankle and explaining that it seemed like a good idea at the time, then had second thoughts and bought a pair of over-knee socks to hide them.

“You don’t have to hide them Daniel,” she told him. “And they do look much better… I don’t mind either way.” she smiled. Daniel pulled his sock back up as Mrs Haverthwaite smiled and complimented his efforts to adapt to his uniform. “Well you’d best get on,” she said, glancing at the time which read nine fifty-nine.