Thankfully there wasn’t a soul on the street as we exited the house and got in the car. Mother had twisted my satin sash around to the front so it wouldn’t get squished between me and the seat and the big bow looked as bad as I’d imagined. The Sunday school was in a part of town that I wasn’t familiar with, in a single story building with a wooden façade and its windows covered with wire mesh to stop them getting smashed.
It didn’t look very welcoming and neither did the area. Mother pulled into the car park but I really didn’t want to get out of the car… although I knew I’d have to. When I had, she twisted my sash so the bow was at the back and put a girlie white handbag over my shoulder. “What’s that for?” I moaned.
“It’s a handbag.” she told me. “Your dress doesn’t have any pockets so you need a bag.” she said, before taking me inside. I gulp as I’m faced with ten or twelve other kids, all wearing white dresses with either white tights, knee or ankle socks and each carrying a white handbag. Their dresses weren’t identical, but they were similar… and all of them bore a miserable expression on their faces.
A grown up approached and Mother introduced herself. “You need to go in the other entrance… out the door, to the left, round the side… there’ll be a queue.” the woman told us… so out we went, following her directions around the building where a queue of about five kids waited with a parent or guardian. Mother made small talk with the adult nearest, about the weather mostly. The queue didn’t move very quickly… in fact we shuffled forward a couple of feet every five minutes. Mother checked her watch and said I’d be late at this rate as it’s already five to eight.
When we finally got to the front of the queue, I was asked my name and taken into a small room. Mother followed. A buxom lady with a stern expression looked me up and down. She asked if it was my first time and I nodded. “…and you’ve brought your nappies?” she asked.
“Errr…” I said, thinking I’d misheard but knowing that I hadn’t.
“In your handbag Perry.” my mother said. It never crossed my mind to look inside the bag, and when I did, there inside was several factory folded disposable nappies.
“What are they for?!” I asked. My voice was shaky, my hands shakier.
“They’re for you Perry.” my mother said. My jaw dropped as I turned to face her.
“Face me boy!” The buxom lady instructed me to give her one of ‘my’ nappies and with a hesitant trembling hand, I did exactly as I was told.
“Put your arms up like this.” she said, raising her hands high above her head
“Er…” I hesitated but raised my hands, only for my mother to whip her hands under my dress, pull my knickers down to my ankles before swiftly lifting my skirt all the way up and holding me and my skirt in bear hug. The lady quickly fitted the nappy as I wriggled and writhed in a futile attempt to at least hinder its fitting. My knickers were pulled up over the nappy… or so I thought. In the scuffle, they’d dropped off my ankles and lay discarded on the floor. My mother let go of me and told me to put my knickers back on. The buxom lady picked them up and handed them to me.
“Put them on Perry.” my mother repeated. “Unless you don’t want to cover your nappy.”
“Why do I have to wear a nappy?” I whined. “I’m eleven!”
“The same reason you have to wear a dress… it’s the rules.” my mother replied. “I don’t make them. I don’t necessarily like them either… but like you, I have to abide by them.” she said.