That evening whilst Peter’s ironing his culottes, his mother asks him if he prefers them to a skirt, and Peter coyly admits to preferring his skirts. “I thought so.” his mother smiled. “You don’t seem to wear them half as often as you could.” she added. Peter explained why he doesn’t really like wearing his culottes, and his mother said that he doesn’t have to wear them if he doesn’t want to. “Your skirts look much nicer anyway.” she added.
“Yeah.” Peter agreed. After a moment’s silence, Peter plucked up the courage to ask his mother something. “Mum?” he asked
“Yes?”
“You know those knee socks with the patterns on?” he shyly asked, drawing an imaginary zig-zag pattern on the ironing board
“Pelerine?” his mother suggested.
“Is that what they’re called?”
His mother nodded. “I think so.” she said.
“Well… I wondered if….” He began to blush. “…if they’re not too expensive…”
“Would you like some?”
“I know they’re a bit girlie but…” he coyly replied. “…I kinda like them.”
His mother smiled. “”I think Paula might have a couple of pairs… I know she probably won’t wear them these days.” she said. “Or would you like some all of your own?”
“I don’t mind.” Peter replied. “If it’s OK with Paula.”
“Why don’t you ask her when she gets in?”
Peter became hesitant. “Errr…. wouldn’t it sound a bit odd if I asked?” he gulped. “I mean.. they are really girlie.”
“Would you rather I asked?” his mother suggested. Peter nodded, gulped and smiled. “And it shouldn’t matter that they’re a bit girlie… the boundaries between boyish and girlie are a bit blurred at Ashford.” his mother added.
“Tell me about it.” Peter replied as he clipped his freshly ironed culottes onto a skirt hanger. “It’s really hard to tell with some of the first years.”
“Georgie Marshall looks sweet with his new hair do.” his mother says. “Have you seen him?”
Peter nods as he lays one of his blouses on the ironing board.. “I don’t think I’d like to go that girlie.” he says. George, who’s mother insisted he wears a skirt instead of culottes, has recently had his moppish hair curled and wears a white ribbon in it.. much to the delight of the girls in his year.
“So long as it complies with the uniform rules, you can go however you like.” his mother replied, much to Peter’s approval. “Aren’t you concerned about what some of the other boys might say if you turn up wearing pelerine socks though?”
“I’ll just tell ’em my Mum made me wear them.” Peter cheekily suggested. “To be honest they probably won’t even mention them.” he added as he moved the iron to and fro over his blouse. “They don’t seem to have noticed that I wear a blouse instead of a shirt.”
“Fair enough.” his mother smiles. She continues watching her son as he irons his school uniform. She doesn’t have to watch over him but she does enjoy it. “Do you enjoy ironing?” she asked.
Peter screwed his nose up. “I don’t mind it.” he said as he laid the next panel on the ironing board. “It just needs to be done.” he said as he pushed the iron over the white cotton blouse. “I prefer ironing my blouses because they’re easy…. there’s a certain amount of pride getting all of the pleats lined up on my skirts… and the culottes are a pain in the.” he explained as he hung the freshly ironed blouse from a clothes hanger. “The legs don’t quite fit over the board so the pleats are really hard to keep together.” he added.
“Well if you don’t wear them you won’t have to iron them.”
“That’s another reason I prefer wearing my skirts.” Peter replied as he gathered all his ironing and prepared to take it to his room.
“I like it when you say that.” his mother said. “My skirts.” she smiled.
“Well they are.” Peter replied before leaving the kitchen.
His mother smiled as she watched him go. His pleated skirt swished this way and that. She felt as guilty as hell when she told him that he’d have to make do with his sister’s hand-me-downs instead of forking out for the new boy’s uniform… but seeing just how comfortable he seems wearing his sister’s old clothes, she can’t help but wonder what other items Paula might have outgrown.