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The only classes Andrew and Willaim shared were their PE and dance classes.
The rest of the time, they were separated and only really saw one another during lunchtime.
Having endured four days at St Urshalla’s School for Girls, Alan has finally mastered skipping with a rope.
During his morning break, the prefects who supervise the playtime activities tell Andrew that he’ll be playing hopscotch the following week.
Andrew tells Willaim this over lunch and is looking forward to being able to spend more time with his friend… however Willaim has been told that he’ll be skipping the following week.
Their final class of the week was PE and once again they donned their burgundy knee socks, short pleated PE skirts, big burgundy gym knickers, and matching polo shorts.
“God it’s freezing,” Andrew whined as they filtered out in the yard.
A brisk autumn breeze whipped around their exposed legs.
“At least we’re playing netball and not rugby.” Willaim commented, that being the sport they’d be participating in at Cromwell Road.
Rugby is something they both detest with a passion; the thuggery, the muddy pitch, the unpredictable ball, and the dreaded scrum.
Netball may not be ideal but it’s the better of the two, he feels.
After PE, both Andrew and Willaim are summoned to the head teacher’s office.
“How have you both got on this week?” she asked.
“OK Miss.” they replied in unison, although this was a long way from the truth.
They’ve both endured possibly the worst week of their life, having to attend a girl’s school, wear the girl’s uniform and answer to girl’s names.
The headteacher informs them that their reports have come back mostly positive, and adds that she hopes their parent’s reports will be much the same.
“I trust you’ve both been doing your homework in uniform?”
“Yes Miss,” they replied.
“Good,” she said. “Apart from an early hiccup… Winifred… you both seem to have buckled down and tried your best to fit in with the rest of our girls… keep that up for the remainder of your suspension from Cromwell Road and you’ll be back there soon enough.” she explained, adding “If that’s what you want?”
“Yes Miss.” they replied.
“Good.” she replied. “you may go.”
“Thank you Miss,” they reply, dropping a well-rehearsed curtsey before exiting her office.
As they walk the halls, their heels clack noisily on the parquet floor.
Andrew curses himself for not being more honest and telling the headteacher that it’s been an awful week.
“It’s horrible wearing heels and itchy tights… having to wear bunches and answer to Alison.”
“I think she knows that already,” Willaim replied.
“The point of sending us here is that we’ll hate it.”
“Yeah, I know,” Andrew said.
“The annoying thing is… hang on…” he said, stopping to hitch up his tights.
“…I’ve only been here a week and I’m getting used to it.”
“Yeah me too.” Willaim gulped. “…and I don’t have the excuse of having to wear girl’s clothes at home.” he said.
“You doing owt tomorrow?”
“Dressing as a girl I guess,” Andrew grumbled.
“Which means I won’t be going anywhere,” he added.
“I might come round if that’s OK,” Willaim suggested.
“I’d rather you didn’t.” Andrew replied, stating his reasoning.
Willaim pointed out the obvious flaw in his logic; that being he dresses as a girl at school anyway so it’ll be no surprise to see him dressed as a girl at home.
“Yeah but… mum makes me wear really girlie dresses… and make-up too.”
“I don’t mind,” Willaim replied. “…and I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about.”
They boarded the minibus and were soon delivered to their respective homes.
Willaim’s mother asked if he’d enjoyed his day at school.
Willaim dryly claimed that he’d merely ‘endured’ it.
“Have you any plans for the weekend?” his mother asked.
“Well… I was gonna go round to Andrew’s tomorrow, but he didn’t seem very keen.” Willaim replied.
“Why not?” his mother quizzed.
“You haven’t fallen out have you?”
“No.” Willaim replied, before explaining about Andrew having to wear girl’s clothes all the time at home too.
“I dunno why he’s embarrassed… we both dress as girls all day at St Urshalla’s.”
“You’d think he’d be used to it by now.” his mother replied.
“Have you got much homework?”
“A bit.” Willaim replied.
“It shouldn’t take me long.”
“Don’t forget you’ve got to practice your ballet too.” his mother reminded him.
“Hmmm.” Willaim groaned.
He had forgotten about that.
Early on Saturday afternoon, Willaim rides round to Andrew’s house and knocks on the door.
“Hello, Mrs Smith. Is Andrew in?”
“He is Willaim, come in.” Andrew’s mother says.
“Andrew!” she hollers.
“Willaim’s here to see you,” she shouts.
She looks Willaim up and down; monkey boots, jeans, jumper and a parka jacket
. “Your hair’s developed a nice wave,” she says.
“Yeah.” Willaim bashfully replied, shyly thumbing the ends of his hair.
“Mum puts it in plaits for school.”
“Yes, Willaim said… I think he’d rather have plaits too but I like him in bunches.” she replied.
“Andrew!” she hollered again.
“I think he’s being a bit shy because I put his hair in rags last night,” she told him.
Wayne adopted a rather perplexed expression, clearly not knowing what hair rags are or do.
“They make it nice and curly.” Andrew’s mother added.
“Andrew!” she hollered again.
“Ooh,” Willaim replied as Andrew finally emerged at the top of the stairs.
“Blimey, it really is curly innit!” Willaim gasped as Andrew descended the stairs.
Andrew was more worried about the dress his mother had made him wear today than how she’d styled his hair.
A deep purple prairie-style dress with a white bib, bounded by a broad frilly trim, and its hem and cuffs are trimmed with white lace.
On his feet is a pair of brown leather heeled shoes and his legs are clad in a pair of white knitted tights.
“It’s weird you being taller than me,” Willaim said when Andrew reached the hallway.
His shoes have a two-inch heel and his incredibly curly hair adds an additional inch or two to his overall height.
His lips are painted in a pale pink shade of lipstick and his eyelashes are coated in thick black mascara.
“Doesn’t he look nice?” Andrew’s mother gushed.
“Er, yeah.” Wayne replied.
“Why don’t you boys sit in the parlour?” Andrew’s mother suggested.
“I’ll fetch some refreshments.”
Willaim followed Andrew to the parlor;
a room filled with posh furniture, tacky ornaments, and vases filled with dried flowers.
Unlike the sitting room, the parlor is seldom used.
Willaim perches on the sofa whilst Andrew sits on an armchair.
He gulps before telling Willaim in no uncertain terms that his dress was his mother’s choice, not his.
“Yeah I gathered that.” William replied.
“She doesn’t make you go out does she?”
“No… thank God.” Andrew replied.
“I do have some boyish stuff that I could go out in but… even that’s a bit too girlie.” he frowned.
Andrew’s mother entered with a tray in hand.
She set it on the coffee table and placed a glass of cordial in front of Willaim, and another in front of Andrew.
A plate bearing four chocolate digestives sat between them.
“Thanks, Mrs Smith,” Willaim said.
“You’re welcome Willaim.” Andrew’s mother replied.
“How are you enjoying your new school?”
“Errr….” Willaim cautiously began. “…apart from the uniform, it’s OK I guess.”
“So long as the uniform keeps you inside the school gates, where you belong… it’s doing it’s job don’t you think?” Andrew’s mother replied.
“Yeah I guess.” Willaim humbly replied.
Andrew’s mother left them alone.
Willaim cast his eyes around the uninspiring parlor and asked Andrew what his ‘new’ bedroom is like.
“Horrid.” Andrew frowned. “..and it’s my sister’s room, not mine.”
“Can I see it?”
“I’d rather not.” Andrew hesitantly replied.
“It can’t be as bad as you described,” Willaim claimed.
Andrew assured him it was, and to prove it, he took his friend up to his new room.
“Blimey!” Willaim gasped. “Your sister’s what… twenty?” he asked. Andrew nodded.
“This is like a little girl’s room,” Willaim exclaimed.
“It hasn’t been decorated since she was about seven,” Alan stated.
“No wonder she moved out as soon as she left school,” he added.
“You’ve got loads of shoes,” Willaim noted, seeing about twelve pairs all lined up by the skirting board.
“My sister has, or had,” Andrew replied.
“Why mum didn’t get rid as she grew out of them I’ll never know,” he said.
“Same with all her old clothes,” he added, opening the wardrobe to reveal a resplendent display of skirts, frocks, and blouses.
“Blimey Andrew… how do you cope?”
Andrew sighed and said “By staying indoors.
It’s only for another week I hope.”
“Yeah I guess.” Willaim replied.
He tore his eyes from the clothes in the wardrobe and looked Andrew up and down again.
“I guess looking at half of those… that one’s not so bad after all,” he said.
“I like the color.”
Andrew looked down at his frock and screwed his nose up.
“I’d rather listen to Deep Purple than wear it.” he dryly retorted.
Willaim chuckled and cast his eyes around the ultra-girlie bedroom.
Framed pictures of cute bears and Edwardian ladies hung from the walls.
Posters of David Cassidy, David Essex, and David Bowie are blu-tacked above the bed.
The shelves are filled with Sindy dolls, teddy bears, books, games, and various toys… all of which once belonged to his sister.
Willaim rummaged through a pile of comics; Bunty, Jinty, Mandy, and Twinkle.
“Do you read these?” he asked.
“No!” Andrew spat.
“They’re my sisters.” his stated.
“Shall we go back down?” he said as Willaim sat on the bed and picked up a floppy rag doll that lay on his pillow.
“I hate it in here.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Willaim said as he put the rag doll back where it belonged.
He tried to imagine what it must be like; going to sleep and waking up in such girlie surroundings, day in, day out.
They returned to the parlor and listened to the radio for a while.
Suzi Quatro’s Devil Gate Drive was played which reminded them of Thursday’s dance class.
Both agreed that it would have been better if they’d danced to pop music for the whole class rather than just at the end.
“Did you have to practice the ballet positions last night?” Willaim asked.
Andrew nodded and moaned about having to wear the pink tights and burgundy leotard whilst he did it.
“Yeah so did I.” Willaim replied.
“What are you boys talking about?” Andrew’s mother asked as she entered.
“Nothing,” they replied in unison.
“Will you be staying for supper Willaim?” she asked him.
“Err… no thanks. My mum’s expecting me back.” Willaim replied.
He took this as a hint that it was approaching the time he should leave and he did just that.
“See you on Monday,” he said, before saying goodbye to Andrew’s mother and thanking her for the biscuits.
“It’s not like Willaim to say thank you without being prompted.” Alan’s mother commented as he rode away.
“Seems he’s not the only one who’s finally found some manners,” she added.
When Willaim returned home, he wasted no time describing Andrew’s hair and dress to his mother.
“Did he look nice?” she asked.
“I don’t know!” Willaim retorted. “I guess,” he added.
“Was he embarrassed?”
“Yeah,”Willaim replied.
“At first anyway,” he said.
“I’m glad I don’t have to wear dresses at home.”
“You’ll be wearing your Sunday dress tomorrow.” his mother casually informed him.
“What Sunday dress?!” Willaim yelped.
“The one Mrs Vaughn gave you on Monday.”
“Why?!” he whined.
“Because it’s Sunday… all the boys at St urshala’s wear dresses on Sunday.” his mother told him.
“Surely you knew that.”
“I thought it was just the boys like Andrew.” Willaim gulped.
His mother shook his head and smiled. “But… aren’t we going to Nana and Granddad’s tomorrow?” he asked.
“Of course.” his mother told him.
“Why wouldn’t we?”