I pondered for a moment. A pair of tights plus a skirt, underskirt and a thick coat equals at least four layers between her waist and knee… which is significantly more than my denim jeans. Maybe they’re not that tough… maybe its just clever layering? I wondered.

“Did you er…” my mother cautiously began. “…decide to wear your er…” she hesitantly enquired. “…or are you saving them for another day?” she asked. I gulped and confessed that I was. A broad grin swept her face. “Are they nice?”

I felt myself blush. “They’re OK.” I admitted. “The top’s a bit weird but…”

“In what way?”

“Well… it’s a bra. I just feels a bit odd wearing one when I clearly don’t need one.”

“It’s a bralette.” Mum corrected, explaining once again that since it doesn’t provide support means that its only purpose is to look nice. “…and I’m sure it does.”

I felt myself blush a little more and shyly looked at my shoes. “Probably a bit too nice.” I replied as I glanced down the line. A flicker of light on the bridge wall was quickly followed by a rumble on the tracks and seconds later, the approaching train came into view. We boarded and found a pair of empty seats and soon we were on our way. The train took us past Middlewood and we’re soon in the sprawling suburbs of the city. It’s only a thirty minute journey but it feels far longer since there’s a station seemingly every mile and the train stops at each and every one of them. From the station, we take a tram to High Street and enter the huge indoor shopping mall. “So… where we going first?” I asked.

“We’ll just have browse.” Mum replied. She suggested we stroll around the Arndale, maybe stop for coffee, then go to HMV before having a look in M&S, Selfridge’s and Harvey Nick’s. “…then do Debenhams and Primark on the way back to Piccadilly.”

“Sounds like you’ve planned it all out.” I said.

“Of course.” Mum replied as she led me into New Look. Normally I’d be heading directly to the men’s department but today, we strolled slowly around the girl’s clothes. “Now we’re not here to buy, just to browse… so don’t get worried if I ask if you like something …I’m not going to buy it.”

“OK.” I shyly replied as she removed a frilly blouse from its rack. She sauntered and meandered and I followed. She’d point out various items and I’d say yay or nay whilst worrying that people might be looking at us. My worry becomes a panic when an assistant appears from no where and asks if we’d like any help. Mum’s holding a corduroy button through skirt and my cheeks feel like they could well be the same shade of burgundy. Mum tells her that we’re just browsing and the assistant cast me a suspicious glance. “Not for me.” I hesitantly insisted.

“For his girlfriend.” Mum said. “Its her birthday on New Years Eve.” she added.