Sunday Best

“Mum can I go to the cinema on Sunday?” Ryan asked.

“Not this Sunday I'm afraid. We've been invited to Melanie's for Sunday lunch.”

“Ooh.” he frowned. “Who's Melanie?”

“My boss, at work.” his mother replied.

“That's gonna be boring. You'll just be talking about work all the time.”

“We probably will, and you'll just have to be quiet and polite.”

“Hmm.” Ryan frowned. “Can I go to the cinema on Saturday instead then?”

“I'm afraid not.” his mother said. 

“Oh why?”

“Because Melanie is expecting you to be dressed for Sunday, which means we need to go shopping for Sunday best.”

“What?!” Ryan remarked. “You don't like Sunday best!”

“I know but Melanie specifically asked if you'd be dressed for Sunday and I said you would, so it's either...”

“Why did you say that?!”

“Lots of boys dress for Sunday these days.”

“Yeah but they're all mummy's boys... and I remember you specifically saying that you didn't like Sunday clothes!”

“Well I don't really... but it's not everyday we get invited to my boss's house for dinner.” his mother told him. Ryan huffed. “I just want to make the best impression and I want you to be on your very best behaviour.”

“If I went to the cinema you wouldn't have to worry about my behaviour and you could make the best impression on your own.” Ryan diplomatically suggested.

“Melanie's keen to meet you and I’ve told told her you'll be going.” his mother reiterated. “What film were you wanting to see anyway?”

“Furiosa Four.”

“Well maybe you could see it next weekend.” his mother suggested. “It'll still be on.”

“But my mates are going this weekend.”

“Well I'm sorry but you can't. We've got lunch on Sunday and shopping on Saturday.”

“But you don't like Sunday best.” Ryan mournfully reminded his mother. 

“I'm kind of coming around to it. I've been looking at lots of different styles online. Some of them aren't so bad.”

“I'd rather wear a Sunday dress.” Ryan grumped.

“Really?”

“No!” he snorted.

“I was going to say.” his mother replied.

“Why can't I just wear a shirt and trousers?” Ryan asked. “Long trousers.” he added.

“Because 'dressed for Sunday' means either Sunday best or a Sunday dress and that's what Melanie's expecting.”

“So you're just sucking up to your boss even though you don't like Sunday best?”

“I'm trying to make the best impression and I've told her that you'll be dressed for Sunday so it's either Sunday best or a Sunday dress. The choice is yours.”

“Well if it's up to me I won't go at all. I'll go to the cinema instead, with my friends.”

“That's not happening this Sunday Ryan.” his mother told him, in no uncertain terms.

~o0o~

At school later that week, Ryan's friends asked him if he was going to the cinema with them on Sunday. “Can't.” Ryan glumly replied. “Mum's been invited to her boss's house for Sunday lunch and I've got to go too.” he frowned. 

“Well Saturday then?” they suggested.

“Can't do that either. Mum's taking me shopping for Sunday best.”

“Eugh!” Paul responded. “I never thought you were a mummy's boy. I wouldn't be seen dead dressed like that.”

“Me neither.” Ryan replied, sighing. “It's doubly annoying 'coz Mum doesn't even like Sunday best... she's just trying to impress her boss.”

“I'd rather wear a Sunday dress.” Peter stated. 

“You do wear a Sunday dress.” Patrick retorted.

“Yeah but not every Sunday... only when we go to my Nana’s or somewhere.” Peter replied.

“I guess I'm lucky 'coz my mum thinks boys shouldn't wear Sunday clothes.” Paul said.

“At least it's only Sunday best.” Ryan mused. “Anyway weren't you a flowerboy?” he said to Paul.

“Yeah but that's different.” Paul claimed. “That was just a one off.” he stated. 

“Yeah true.” Ryan concurred. “Hopefully this will be too.”

“Don't count on it.” Patrick said. “I have to wear mine more often than not these days.”

“You're not a mummy's boy!” Paul gasped. Patrick skewed his jaw and nodded. “You kept that quiet!” Paul remarked.

“Leave 'im alone!” Ryan snarled. “It's not like we 'ave much choice.”

“Yeah.” Peter agreed.

“I'm just surprised. That's all.” Paul claimed. “But even if my mum did like Sunday clothes, I still wouldn't wear them.” he stated. 

“You say that but you were a flowerboy remember.” Ryan told him. 

“So?” Paul shrugged.

“Did you ask to be a flowerboy?”

“Course not!” Paul stated. “But I get your point.”

~o0o~

Later that day when Ryan got home, his mother asked if his friends disappointed that he couldn't go to the cinema this weekend. “Not really.” Ryan replied. “If anything they felt sorry for me.” he dryly added.

“Sorry for you. Why?”

“Because I have to spend Saturday shopping for some Sunday clothes and then spend Sunday wearing them.”

“You told them?” she asked, somewhat surprised. Ryan nodded. “What did they say?”

“Nowt much. Paul said I was a mummy's boy.” he glumly shrugged. “...but Pete and Patrick both wear Sunday clothes so...”

“Every Sunday?”

“No I don't think so.”

“Well I suppose that makes you feel better about getting some of your own.”

“Not really.” he glumly replied. “I won't have to wear them every Sunday will I?”

“Maybe not every Sunday but often enough.”

“Oh Mu-um.”

“It'd be a waste of money if you only wore them once.;” she told him before asking if he'd decided on a Sunday dress or Sunday best. 

“I don't wanna wear a dress.” he grimaced.

“I thought you said you'd rather wear a dress?”

“I was being sarcastic.” Ryan replied. “I'd rather not have to wear Sunday clothes at all.” he stated. 

“You'd rather not wear your school uniform but sometimes you simply don't get to choose.” his mother replied.

“Hmm.” Ryan responded.

~o0o~

Saturday came all too quickly and all the major stores have a Sunday section in the boy's department, although Ryan has never had to venture into one before today. “Don't you think it's weird seeing girls clothes in the boys department?” he said to his mother as they entered the aisle. One side is full of Sunday dresses in a variety of colours and patterns, the other is all black shorts and white blouses. “They didn't have anything like this when I was a kid.”

“You are a kid.” his mother replied. “And technically, they're boys clothes when they're in the boys department.” she added.

“But you know what I mean. They didn't have any dresses a couple of years ago.” Ryan grumbled.

“And once upon a time there weren't any pants in the girls department.” his mother told him. “Fashion changes with the times.”

“Yeah but not for the better.” he retorted. “And you're only doing this to impress your boss. You don't even like Sunday clothes.”

“I didn't like them to begin with but the more I see them...” his mother replied, browsing the dresses before turning to look at the shorts and blouses. “And yes I would like to impress my boss.” she added, lifting a pretty white blouse off the rail. 

Ryan gulped and scrutinised it. The short puffed sleeves and round scalloped collar on an otherwise plain shirt appeared overtly girlie. His mother turned it. A slight smile of approval swept her face as she checked the size and price. “Why's the collar split at the back?” Ryan naively asked. 

“So you can unfasten it.” his mother told him. Huh?! Was Ryan's response. “The buttons are on the back.” she informed him.

“Oh don't Mum.” he grumbled as she held the blouse against him. He looked down at the plain white garment and imagined the sleeves adorning his shoulders. “I don't like it.”

“Well choose one you do like.” hid mother said. Ryan skewed his jaw and grimaced at the options as his eye panned up and down the aisle. He knew he wouldn't be able to do that. “Fact is you won't like any of them at first.” she said, casting her eyes back to the rails. “I don't like these bubble shorts much.” she commented.

“They're horrible.” Ryan stated. His mother lifted a different style off the rack. “That's a skirt.”

“That's what I thought but no.” his mother said, separating the middle of the three box-pleats to reveal the legs. “It just looks like one.” she said, putting it back on the rack. They strolled a little further along the aisle. “How about some nautical ones?” she suggested, drawing his attention to a pair with six brass buttons arranged in two vertical rows. Ryan gulped and shook his head. Opposite those are some nautical inspired dresses in pastel shades with broad square collars and bright white trim. “Those actually look quite boyish.” his mother commented.

“Mum. They're dresses.”

“I know but there's no frills or lacy trim.”

“They've got puffed sleeves.”

“Mm.” his mother replied. “Anyway we're after shorts.” she said, turning her eyes to the other side of the aisle. 

At glance every pair of shorts looks pretty much the same; black in colour, tailored pressed poly-cotton and with a leg length no longer than two inches. But on closer inspection the broad variety of details becomes apparent. Details such as turned up hems, bubble, straight and A-line styles, box pleats, knife pleats, pinch pleast and kick pleats. Some are clearly shorts and some conceal the legs with  various types of pleats and appear more like a skirt, but all of them have neither pockets nor a fly. “Why do they all fasten at the back?” Ryan whined as his mother inspected yet another pair.

“So they look nicer from the front.” his mother replied. “Shall we try these on?” she said, removing a pair with a two inch kick pleat on each leg but no other detail. Ryan skewed his nose at them but considering all the other designs she could have chosen, he didn't decline. They checked the items into the changing room but Ryan only tried the shorts on. He struggled with the button on the back. “Let me do it.” his mother said, fastening it and pulling up the zipper. “Let's have a look.” she said, turning him to face her. “Hold your top up.” she instructed.

“Are they supposed to be this high?” he asked, finding the waistband much further up his body than he's used to. 

“They are.” his mother confirmed as she shoved three fingers into the waistband to check it wasn't too tight, before stepping back. “How do they feel?”

“Short.” he grumped. His mother suggested he sit and asked if they were comfortable. “I guess.” he said, standing and coming to terms just how very short they felt. “It's gonna be so embarrassing wearing these tomorrow.”

“You might be embarrassed but at least you'll look smart.” she told him. “Shall I unfasten them?”

Ryan fiddled with the button and managed it himself. After stepping out of them, he pulled on his jeans whilst his mother clipped the shorts to the hanger. “Shoes, socks and undies next.” she told him.

The boys department is busy with grown ups and kids and staff hurrying around. They made their way back to the Sunday section and strode past all the shorts blouses and Sunday dresses to the end of the aisle where the underwear, footwear and hosiery can be found. His mother quickly found a pair a knitted white knee socks before glaring at the undergarments. “I don't need any of that do I?” Ryan gasped as he realised how effeminate the styles were. His mother nodded. “Why?” he whined. “No one's gonna see it.”

“Sunday best is a complete package; shirt, shorts, undies, socks and shoes. Head to toe, inside and out.” his mother told him. 

“Hmm.” Ryan grumbled as his mother chose him some underwear and whilst no where near the girliest looking set, it looked far too girlie for comfort. She turned on her heel  and they faced the shelves displaying the footwear. “Please not heels.” Ryan requested as he grimaced at all the styles. Some looked quite boyish being flat with laces, but the high gloss patent leather put them firmly in girlie territory.

“Definitely heels.” his mother said. “...according to an article I read in Mother & Home.”

“But they're girls shoes.”

“The whole style is girlie, if you hadn't noticed.” his mother dryly replied. “...and the article said that a boy isn't properly dressed in Sunday best unless he's wearing heels and barrette.”

“In my hair?!” he moaned. His mother nodded. “I may as well wear a dress.” he grumbled. 

“Apparently most boys actually prefer a Sunday dress to Sunday best.” his mother claimed. “According to the article I read.” she added. Ryan recalled his friend stating that he'd rather wear a dress and wondered if his mother stated the truth or not. “Try these.” she said, handing him an unbuckled shoe.

“Mary Jane's.” he grumped, taking the shoe from her. 

“Pageboy shoes.” his mother wryly stated as she unbuckled the other shoe. Ryan sighed and sat, kicked off his trainers and slid his toes into the shoes before fastening the buckles. “Stand up. See how they feel.” his mother said. “Do they fit OK?”

“They fit but I don't like them.”

“The style's perfect for the outfit.” his mother chirped. “Do you want to try walking around in them a bit?”

“Not really.” Ryan gulped. 

“Well sit down and take them off.”

Ryan did as asked. “Are you going to buy them?” he grimaced.

“Of course.” his mother smiled. “I'm actually looking forward to seeing you all dressed up tomorrow.”

“I'm dreading it.” Ryan grumbled.

“Oh it won't be so bad.” his mother assured as they left the Sunday section behind.

“Where we going now?” Ryan asked when she didn't head toward the tills.

“You need an overcoat.”

“I've got several.”

“But not one you can wear with Sunday best.”

There were plenty of cool winter coats in the outer-wear department; ski and snowboarding jackets, suede jackets, parkers, etc. But what Ryan ended up with  was a double breasted woollen overcoat with a notched collar and big buttons. It's dark grey and heavy and felt really warm and cosy, but it's not in the least bit cool or trendy. At the till, Ryan gasped when the cost of all the items totted up to one hundred and eighty-eight pounds. “Mum that's loads of money!” he said as they exited the department store. 

“It all mounts up.” his mother replied. “Half of it was just the jacket.” she added. Ryan looked down at the cumbersome bag he carried which contained his new coat with the shoe box nestled on top. His mother carried a smaller bag with the rest of his new items; shorts, blouse, socks and undies. “Oh we'll just pop in here.” she said as they passed a healthcare store.

“What for?”

“To see if they've got any Epi-Tan.”

“What's that?”

“Fake tan for your legs.” she said. “And before you say you don't want any, you need some.”

Later that day when they returned home, Ryan's mother informed him that she'll be tanning his legs after their evening meal. “What does that involve?” Ryan glumly asked.

“I put the cream on your legs and twenty minutes later you wash it off in the shower.”

“Well I can do that.” Ryan said.

“It needs to be even and it can get messy.”

Later that evening, Ryan found himself stood in the bathroom wearing just his T-shirt and underpants whilst his mother smeared the cocoa coloured mousse over his legs. She wore plastic gloves to protect her hands whilst she covered him from hip to ankle, rinsing off the mouse in the sink afterwards. “Now don't touch it, and don't sit down for twenty minutes... then take shower.”

“So I just have to stand here?” Ryan knowingly asked. His mother nodded. It felt like a long twenty minutes in which Ryan browsed some videos on his phone. After some fifteen minutes, his skin began to feel tingly and worried that something was wrong, he called his mother and told her.

“That's the epilation. You should be OK to shower now.” his mother told him.

“Finally.” he dryly said.

Afterwards, Ryan sheepishly exited the bathroom wrapped in a towel. Having heard the shower stop, his mother gave him a couple of minutes before tapping on his bedroom door. “Are you decent?” she asked. 

“Yes.” Ryan timidly replied. The door opened. Ryan wore his bathrobe. His mother asked if he had underpants on and the boy nodded. His mother wanted to see his legs. “They feel weird.” he said as he opened the robe.

“They should feel smooth.” his mother told him. “At  least they've got a bit of colour in them now.” she added.

“They don't look that much different to me.” Ryan said. “Apart from being smooth.”

“It was the palest shade, just to take the edge off how milky they were.”

“Hmm.” Ryan responded as he looked down at his legs before closing his robe. 

The next morning over breakfast, Ryan asked what time they'd be going to Melanie's. “We'll get you dressed around eleven and set off soon after that.” his mother told him. “Are you looking forward to it?”

“I might be if I didn't have to wear Sunday best.” Ryan said. 

“Well there's a first time for everything.”

“Hopefully it'll be the last time too.” Ryan grimly replied.

“I'm not to going to spend almost two hundred pounds on Sunday best for you to wear it only once.”

“Ooh I won't have to wear it every Sunday will I?”

“Maybe not every Sunday but often enough to get my money's worth.”

Over the next two hours, Ryan anxiously watched the clock slowly tick towards eleven o'clock and at about a quarter to eleven, his mother suggested he gets dressed for the day. “Okay.” he mournfully replied. “Mum I can dress myself.” he claimed as she followed him to his bedroom.

“You struggled to fasten your shorts when you tried them on.” she reminded him. “And you'll need buttoning into your blouse.” she added. “...and your vest has adjustable shoulder straps so...”

Unbeknown to Ryan, his mother had neatly laid the items of his Sunday outfit on his bed, which caused him to stop in his tracks when he entered his bedroom. The knickers, the vest and girlie white knee socks lay beside the jet black shorts shorts and bright white blouse. On floor beside his bed sits the black 'pageboy' shoes which for all intents and purposes are a pair of girl's Mary Jane's, complete with a small but significant heel. Ryan kept his robe on whilst he donned the knickers and despite being relatively plain, they felt nothing at all like a pair of underpants. The seams around the leg-holes and waist are almost flat and are trimmed with the narrowest band of elasticated lace, and the waistband sits far higher than he's accustomed to. “How do they feel?” his mother asked. “They're supposed to be quite snug.” she added as he sheepishly removed his robe, complaining that it looks like girls underwear. “They're just a bit nicer than you're used to, that's all.” his mother replied as he picked up the vest, grimacing at it. The vest didn't fit quite so snugly as his panties. Ryan remained bashful and silent as his mother adjusted the thin shoulder straps. Next came the blouse which he reluctantly pulled on.

“This is so girlie.” he grumbled as his mother fastened the buttons for him. “The sleeves are horrible.”

“The sleeves are cute.” his mother told him. “Turn around so I can see.” Ryan turned to face his mother. A dour expression filled his face. “Oh it's not that bad.” his mother smiled. “You could have been wearing a Sunday dress instead.” she said as she picked up the shorts and handed them to him.

Ryan stepped into the shorts, fiddle with the button on the back and pulled up the zip. The waist is high and the legs are short, leaving the entire length of his legs on display. “At least a dress wouldn't leave my legs so exposed.” he muttered as his mother looked him up and down with approving eyes.

“Your legs have never looked nicer.” she told him. “I might have to try a little make-up to hide those blushes though.”

“Oh Mum I’m not a pageboy!” Ryan whined.

“No but you want to look your best.”

“I don't want to look like anything.”

“Well I want yo to look your best.” she told him. “Socks then shoes.” she said, “...then come and have a look at yourself in my big mirror.”

His mother left his room. Ryan sighed and sat on his bed. “Oh god this is horrible.” he grumped as his fingers briefly found his hairless lap. He grimaced as he pulled on the socks. The knitted pattern of diamonds and stripes stretched over his shins and the plain cuffs settled just below the knee. He fiddled with the buckles on his shoes before standing and looking down at himself, huffing and gulping. 

The heels weren't awkward to walk in but he was very aware of the inch and a half on which he felt perched, timidly and consciously he walked across the landing to his mother's bedroom and gulped as he entered. A broad smile swept her face as she looked him up and down. “Very smart.” she told him.

“These shorts are far too short.” he claimed, reluctantly looking at his full reflection.

“Sunday best shorts are supposed to be short.” his mother told him. “I maybe should have got you a slightly darker tanning cream though.” she said. “Do you want to sit?” she asked, pulling out her dressing table chair.

“Do I really have to wear make-up as well?”

“You'll barely notice it. Just a bit of foundation, some mascara and lipstick.”

“Lipstick?” he grimaced. 

Ryan's mother picked up a small cylinder from the dresser and handed it too him. “Have a look.” she said. “It's almost exactly the same shade as your natural lip colour. You'll hardly notice it.”

“Why wear it then?” Ryan asked. Having removed the lid, the colour is mostly brown with a hint of pink, but not really knowing what his natural lip colour is, he can't decide if it's a match or not. The reason his mother gives is because he'll also be wearing foundation, which he'll also hardly notice. “Why don't you just do half my face so I can decide if I'll notice it or not?” he asked.

“OK.” his mother replied. “But you'll look a bit weird with only half a face of make-up.”

“You can do the rest of it afterwards.”

“It'll be a lot easier to just do it all at once.”

“OK.” Ryan glumly conceded. “That looks like Calamine Lotion.” he said as she squeezed a gloopy pale pink liquid from a small plastic tube onto a cotton wool pad. 

“You certainly would notice it if it were Calamine.” his mother replied before dabbing some on each cheek and his forehead, nose and chin. Gently and swiftly she rubbed it in and evened it out. “This is the hard part. You've got to try not to flinch.” she warned, wielding a mascara wand. 

“Is that for my eyelashes?” Ryan guessed. His mother nodded. Ryan slumped his shoulders and said, “I may as well be wearing a dress.”

“Well they do say most boys prefer them.” his mother replied. “Keep still ...and don't blink.”

Ryan practically froze when his mother applied the mascara. “Can I touch it?” he asked, drawing a finger near.

“Absolutely not or you'll ruin it.” his mother said, smiling. “Lipstick next.”

Ryan turned to see his reflection in the dressing table mirror. “I thought you said I'd hardly notice it?”

“Believe it or not that is very subtle. You still look completely like you.”

“Will I have to wear it every time I wear Sunday best?” Ryan mournfully asked.

“Mm.” his mother replied. Ryan frowned. “It only takes a moment, and does hide hide your blushes.” she smiled.

“I'm only blushing because I look so girlie.”

“Sunday best is quintessentially boyish, even if it is a little dandified.” she told him. “It's more Little Lord Fauntleroy than anything.”

“Hmm.” Ryan concurred, not that that fact made his Sunday best outfit any more palatable. “It's gonna be freezing in'it?” he said, looking down at his bare legs and knee socks. 

“You should be OK with your new coat on.” his mother told him. “And plenty of girls younger than you cope perfectly well in the winter remember.”

“They're used to it.” Ryan replied. 

“You ready?” his mother asked, dropping the lipstick into a small black purse and handing it to him. 

“I guess.” Ryan glumly said. He was hoping he wouldn't have to have a purse but since most boys wearing Sunday clothes seem to carry one, Ryan wasn't surprised when his mother gave him one. 

“There's tissues and gloves inside too.” she told him.

“OK.” Ryan mumbled as he took hold of its thin handles. 

“Well come on.”

“Didn't you say I had to w...” The thought popped out of his mouth at the same time it entered his head. Ryan stopped himself short but it was too late. 

“You had to what?” his mother asked. “Oh your barrette. Of course!” she said, dashing to a drawer and opening it. “I bought a pack.” she told him as she revealed a blister pack containing a hairband with a small white bow on it, two barrettes with larger white bows and a single large bow. 

“I don't wanna wear that massive one.” Ryan said as she peeled away the card backing. 

“That one clips to the back so you wouldn't see it if you're looking in the mirror.” his mother said, giving him the choice of the band or a barrette. 

“The smallest.” he muttered.

“I hope you're not going to be a moody-chops at Melanie's.” his mother said as he arranged his boyish hair around the girlie hairband. 

The torn packaging caught Ryan attention. Large ornate lettering stated Sunday Best hair accessory set: senior boys. “Noo.” he mournfully replied. “When did they start making hair-bows for boys?”

“I'm not sure.” his mother said. “I found them in the pound shop.” she informed him. 

“We'll be dressing like girls to school in a few years time at this rate.” Ryan grimly predicted.

“I wouldn't be surprised.” his mother said. 

Ryan's new jacket hung in the hallway. He donned it and looked in the big hallway mirror as he fastened the buttons. It's A-line shape almost reaches his knees and thinks he looks even more girlie. “For all anyone knows I could be wearing a dress under this.” he grumbled. 

“A Sunday dress would reach the tops of your socks.” his mother informed him.

“Yeah I guess.” Ryan said, knowing how long the average Sunday dress should be. “Brrr it's freezing.” he said as he stepped outside. 

“You'll get accustomed to the air on your legs in time.” his mother said, remotely unlocking the car before locking up the house.

Ryan got in and fastened his seatbelt. He thought he'd be able to feel all the buttons on the back of his blouse as he pressed his back into the seat, but couldn't feel them at all. His mother got in and fastened her seat belt. “Where does Melanie live anyway?” Ryan asked after she'd reversed the car out of the drive. 

“Near Holmeford.”

“That's miles away.”

“It'll be a nice drive on a Sunday.” his mother said, glancing at his feet. “How are your shoes so far?”

“OK I guess. It's weird having a heel.”

“Only small ones.”

“Yeah but... I'm just not used to them.”

“Well you seem to be getting on OK in them.” she noted. “How are you feeling generally?”

“Nervous.” Ryan replied. His mother told him it was normal to feel nervous since he'll be meeting her boss for the first time. “I'm nervous because of how I'm dressed, not because of who we're visiting.”

“That's understandable too.” his mother told him.

It was a thirty minute drive through winding country lanes to the village of Holmeford and Melanie lives in a hamlet a few miles beyond. Ryan's mother parked the car outside and the strode up the drive to the front door. “These shoes are really noisy.” Ryan said as the sound of his heels filled his ears. 

“You're doing well in them.” his mother said as they approached the door. 

“They're not hard to walk in, they're just noisy.” Ryan said as his mother rang the doorbell. Barely a moment passed before Melanie opened the door, first greeting his mother with a hug before introducing herself to Ryan. “Hello.” he said as they shook hands.

“Come on in.” Melanie said, looking the boy up and down as he stepped inside before casting his mother an approving smile. “How was the drive over?”

“Oh fine.” Ryan's mother replied. “Something smells nice.” she commented. 

“Scotch broth.” Melanie replied. “Shall I take your coat Ryan?” she asked, prompting the boy to unbutton his overcoat. “Let me hold that.” she suggested, taking his dainty little handbag whilst he pulled his arms from the sleeves. Once out of it, Melanie took hold of Ryan's jacket and returned his handbag, before looking him up and down and telling him how smart he looked. Timidly Ryan thanked her and loitered awkwardly whilst his mother removed her jacket. “Come through.” Melanie said. “I've just put a pot of tea on.” she told them. “Make yourselves at home.” she said, gesturing to the island seating. Melanie and Ryan's mother chatted enthusiastically with one another. Ryan felt like a spare part or an accessory, although Melanie did engage him occasionally. After ten minutes of chatter, Melanie said to Ryan. “I'm sorry you must be bored senseless listening to us talking shop.”

“That's OK.” Ryan replied.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

Ryan nodded. “Mum hasn't fed me since Thursday.” he jovially added.

Melanie chuckled and his mother took the comment in good humour. “Well dinner will be an hour or so, so... shall I show you around?” Melanie suggested. 

Whilst Melanie's house isn't particularly large, she didn't half spend an age showing her guests around. On the ground floor is an open kitchen-diner with patio doors facing a garden to the rear. Off the sizeable hallway is small office come study come snug sitting room. It's just a sitting room with bookshelves and a desk, a small sofa and a TV, but Melanie spent about five minutes explaining that. Beyond the staircase is a larger sitting room with a wood burner and a big welcoming settee. Melanie describes in detail the work that's been done opening up the fireplace and getting new windows fitted. There's a cupboard under the stairs which needn't have been mentioned but was, and at the top of the stairs is a bathroom and three bedrooms, two of which are guest rooms with a bunk bed and two single beds in one in the other. Having heard Melanie talk of her nieces, Ryan's mother says “This must be where your nieces stay.” since it's clearly a room decorated and furnished for girls.

“Yes, and my nephews.” Melanie replied. Next she showed them her own bedroom which took ten minutes of chattering amongst the grown-ups, and only after being shown another small storage cupboard on the landing they returned downstairs for a tour of the kitchen and diner (which they'd already seen) and the utility room containing the laundry and linen and cleaning stuff and a downstairs loo. “...so if you need to go Ryan, you know where it is.” she told him. 

“OK.” Ryan politely replied. 

“And may I ask that you sit to wee. My nephews have a terrible aim.” Melanie said as they returned to the kitchen-diner.

“Erm... OK.” Ryan timidly agreed. 

“It's probably easier to sit with those shorts on anyway.” his mother said to him. “They fasten at the back.” she said to Melanie. 

“Yes I noticed.” Melanie replied. “I do like seeing boys dressed in Sunday clothes.”  she added.

“It's Ryan’s first time.” his mother revealed. “I think he's feeling a little whelmed by it all, aren't you?” she said. 

“I've never had to wear anything like this before.” Ryan sheepishly told them. 

“You’ve never been a pageboy?” Melanie asked. Ryan shook his head. “How old are you now?”

“Twelve.”

“Oh well there's still a chance.” Melanie said.

“I don't think Ryan would like to be a pageboy.” his mother said.

“Most boys wouldn't but it's rude to turn the honour down when it's offered.”

“True.” his mother concurred as Melanie donned a pair of oven gloves. 

“Ooh is that freshly baked bread?”

“It is.” Melanie replied as she placed the a large rustic loaf on the counter.

“It smells nice.” Ryan said.

“Thank you.” Melanie smiled. “You can sit yourselves at the table. It won't be a moment.”

The table is laid with three settings. Ryan and his mother sit opposite one another and patiently wait whilst Melanie cuts the bread into doorstep slices and serves the broth into large bowls. “You OK?” his mother asked. Ryan said he was. “Try not to splash any broth on your blouse.” she advised. 

“There's a pinafore if he wants one.” Melanie said, having overheard the advice. “My nephews wear them when they've got their Sunday clothes on.”

“Do you want a pinafore?” his mother asked.

“Erm...” Ryan hesitated.

“I think he does.” his mother said. 

Melanie removed one from the hooks where the aprons are hung. “That looks like a dress.” Ryan commented. The short white garment has no sleeves but it does have frilly trim on every edge.

“It's far too short for a dress Ryan. It's just an apron really.” his mother said as she took hold of it. “Stand up.”

Ryan stood. His mother held the pinafore open for him and he put his hands through the holes. Two buttons high on its back fasten it and Ryan, feeling somewhat mortified, looked down himself. “It does look a bit like a dress from the front.” his mother said.

“Hmm.” Ryan agreed as he bashfully sat, arranging the frilled pinafore on his lap.

“It's just to keep your clothes clean.” his mother said as Melanie placed a bowl of brother in front of each of them. “Thank you. This looks wonderful.” she smiled.

“It's my mother's recipe, although she wasn't Scottish so it mightn't be authentic scotch broth.” Melanie said.

“Mmm. It's nice.” Ryan said after his first mouthful. 

“Good.” Melanie smiled.

Ryan took hold of a slice of buttered bread, dipped it in the juices and took a bite. “Mmm.” he said before takinga bite of the buttered bread. “I think this is the best bread I've ever had.”

“You can't beat home baked bread.”

“You're telling me. It's wonderful.” Ryan's mother said. “I've never tried baking my own bread.”

“It's easy enough but it doesn't work out any cheaper than just buying it... and I must admit, I only bake it for special occasions.” Melanie told them.

“We made some bread at school last year. It was part of the science class to demonstrate how yeast works.” Ryan said. “It wasn't nice bread like this though.”

“You're very kind.” Melanie smiled. “Did you notice the ruin on top of a hill from the car?” she asked him.

“Yes.” he said. “Is it an old manor house?”

“It is.” Melanie said. “We'll have a walk up there after dinner. The view is wonderful.”

“It won't be muddy will it?” Ryan's mother asked. “Only... he's got new shoes on.”

“No it's paved all the way.” Melanie replied.

“How far is it?” Ryan asked.

“About half a mile as the crow flies. The walk is about three miles though... so about an hour.”

“Oh.” Ryan hesitantly replied.

“Is that OK?” Melanie asked. 

“Erm... yeah... I err, guess.”

“It'll be fine.” his mother said, smiling at her son. 

They continued eating and chatting and once their plates were empty, Melanie suggested that Ryan help her clear the table. “OK.” he politely replied. “Can I take this off?” he asked, taking hold of the pinafore apron he wore.

“Course.” Melanie said. “Turn around.” she chirped. 

Ryan meekly thanked her for unfastening the button for him as he removed the effeminate apron and gave it to her. He carefully stacked the bowls and cutlery and took them to the kitchen counter. “will you fetch me your bag Ryan?” his mother asked. Ryan picked it up from the island unit and took it to his mother. He felt so embarrassed as she reapplied his lipstick whilst Melanie loaded the dishwasher. “There. That's better.” his mother smiled. She faffed with the band in his hair which caused Ryan to wince and whine a little. “Just making sure you look nice.” his mother told him.

“You look lovely Ryan.” Melanie said. Ryan tried his best to contain his grimace before meekly saying thank you to their host. 

Before long they were preparing to head out for a Sunday walk. Ryan straightened his knee socks and his mother held his bag whilst he buttoned up his jacket. “Don't forget there's some gloves in your purse if your hands feel cold.” she said as he took the dainty little bag from her. 

Ryan rubbed his freehand diagonally on the side of his jacket two or three times. “I haven't got any pockets.” he realised. 

“That's why there's some gloves in your purse.” his mother informed him.

Butterflies erupted in Ryan’s tummy as he stepped outside. With a small leather purse hanging from one hand, his other hand had nothing to occupy it. The tips of his fingers brushed the hem of his jacket as the October air nibbled at his exposed legs, which looked positively pink next to his white knitted knee socks. His heels were noisy on the paving slabs and Melanie said she liked the sound of a 'clattery heel', as she put it. Not many people were out and about in the small hamlet and those that we're knew Melanie by name and greeted them in passing. Butterflies fluttered through Ryan's  belly as they approached then calmed once they'd passed and as they left the handful of buildings behind, his mother asked if he were warm enough. “My knees are chilly.” he said.

“They will be if you're not used to wearing little shorts this time of year.” Melanie said. “If anything it'll toughen you up a bit.” she added.

“And there's always the option of tights.” his mother said.

Ryan perished that thought, but on further consideration he figured that he wouldn't look or feel any more girlie if he were wearing tights instead of the knitted white knee socks with their diamonds and stripes.

The pavement flanked the rural main road for maybe half a mile. Plenty of traffic trundled past and they waited a while before they could cross to a kissing gate leading into grassland. Melanie explained that the path had recently been tarmacked because it forms part of a national cycle route, before having a little rant about some of the speeds some of them go. The path gently wound its way up the hill toward a ridge and about halfway up, Ryan found that his legs no longer felt cold. He paused to let his mother and Melanie catch up. “My legs are warming up now.” he said with a slight hint of pride. 

“They will if you march like that.” his mother said.

“Sorry.” Ryan said, skewing his jaw. 

“No it's fine.” his mother said. “It's toughening you up.” she smiled. 

The view from the ridge was flanked by trees mostly, with an occasional glimpse of the valley below. The distant ruined manor dominates the crest of the ridge. Ryan is eager to see it closer but keeps pace with his mother and Melanie who walk a few paces behind. He can't help but focus on the sound of his heels; as regular as clockwork. All too frequently his eyes drop down to glance at his shoes. Detestable as they are to him, he can't help but feel accustomed to them. What Ryan isn't accustomed to is not having any pockets to occupy his hands and that also makes him feel more than a little awkward. “You OK Ryan?” his mother asked.

“Yeah.” he replied, glancing back then stopping to let them catch up. The ruin wasn't too far ahead and there were people there. Ryan drew alongside his mother as they approached the structure which, to be honest, looks a lot better from afar. Only the stonework remains and that is crumbling. Giant buddleia and other untended weeds tarnish the otherwise impressive building. It's roof and windows are long gone and surrounding it a security fence that's clearly been breached on many occasions. The view however is one to behold; the hamlet below, the village beyond the trees, a patchwork of fields on rolling hills and the river snaking its way to the distance. “We've walked all the way from down there?” Ryan gasped when Melanie pointed out her house. “That's quite impressive.” he said.

“Doubly so considering it's your first day in heels.” his mother said. 

They enjoyed the view of the valley for a while and scrutinised the state of the ruin, speculating over how grand it once was. “Let us know when you want to start walking Ryan.” Melanie said. “We've both got pants on.”

“Yeah I am getting a little bit chilly.” he said. The path wound down the west flank of the ridge. It's significantly steeper than the path they'd climbed. Ryan's heels felt awkward on some of the inclines and it was a relief when they were finally on level ground again. The regular rhythm of clack click clack combined with adults chatting away and the frequent trundle of traffic filled Ryan's ears, but it was mostly the sound of his heels. Ryan wished he had his earpods and phone with him then at least he could listen to some music and maybe take his mind off how prissy he feels in his Sunday best. Soon they came to another crossing point and waited a while for a break in the traffic. Ryan stood with his feet crossed at the ankles to keep his legs close together. 

“I see you've sussed out how to keep warm when stood still.” Melanie noted, smiling at the boy.

“It does make a difference.” Ryan replied. A lull of traffic meant they could scurry across. Ryan's heels clattered with haste and slowed to their regular pace once on the other side. The path shifted away from the trunk road and meandered back toward the hamlet. The traffic noise faded away until only the sound of his shoes filled his ears. He looked down at his girlie white knee socks and dainty black shoes, his smooth pale legs emerging from his cosy woollen jacket. I hope I don't have to wear this too often, he thought. He imagined trudging through snow, his exposed skin bright pink in the icy cold. He imagined a warm sunny day with no need for a jacket to conceal his little shorts and puffed sleeve blouse. He figured he'd probably have to wear ankle socks in the summer and imagined the worst possible style; those with an inch of frilly lace encompassing the ankles... and with that thought, Ryan unwittingly mused over the prospect of actually being a pageboy. Kitten heeled shoes tied with a big satin bow, thin white tights and bulbous little shorts and a fancy white blouse with too many frills.. Considering the prissy outfits the pageboys tend to wear, Sunday best is really rather sedate in comparison. 

The path hugged the corner of an old stone barn where a puddle remained after the previous day's rain. All three went single file to avoid it, but unseen and unheard, two cyclists suddenly emerged who were also avoiding the puddle, but faced with three pedestrian they had no choice but to hit the water. “Not so fast on a shared use path!” Melanie hollered at them as they rode away. “Bloody idiots!” she growled. “They just race around like the path belongs to them!” she ranted.

“They splashed my socks.” Ryan moaned, seeing them splattered with dark mucky marks.

“Oh never mind.” his mother said. “We can rinse them when we get back.” she told him. “They splashed my pants too.” she noticed. 

It was only ten minutes back to the quiet little hamlet. Melanie briefly chatted with a neighbour whilst Ryan and his mother slowly strolled onwards until they loitered at the end of Melanie's drive. “Are you having a nice day?” his mother asked. Ryan said he was. “You don't sound so sure.” his mother said. 

“Well... I was until those cyclists splashed us.” he mournfully said. “Now I've got mud all over my socks.”

“It'll rinse out.” his mother told him. 

“I know but it looks messy.” he replied, looking down and grimacing at the splats.

“Sorry about that.” Melanie said as she caught them up. “We've been having issues with the drainage lately.” she explained. “Let's see if we can find you some clean socks shall we.” she said to Ryan.

“They'll rinse and dry on a radiator.” his mother suggested as they strode toward the house. 

Once inside Melanie trotted up the stairs and returned as Ryan was unbuckling his shoes. “Try these.” Melanie said, handing a pair of ankle socks to his mother. “He can keep them.”

“Are you sure?” 

“It's just a pair of socks.” Melanie said. 

“Nice though.” his mother said as Ryan peeled off his splattered socks. 

“Thanks.” Ryan said to Melanie as he took the clean socks from his mother. They're ribbed rather than knitted, but the scalloped cuff  puts them firmly in girlie territory. His mother takes his pageboy shoes to wipe with a cloth and returned with them a moment later. 

“They look cute.” his mother said once he'd put his shoes back on. “...but you wear them like this.” she said, turning down the cuffs so the scalloped hems pointed downwards. “There.” she smiled.

Ryan wasn't at all keen on the socks but he couldn't decide if they were preferable to his knee socks or not. On the one hand they don't have the girlie pelerine knit, but being ankle socks with a bit of frill they're not in the least bit boyish, and having twice as much leg on display made him feel doubly self-conscious. Melanie made a hot drink for them and they settled  on the big comfy sofa in the lounge. A radio played quietly in the background as they chatted about this and that. Ryan sat quietly until occasionally drawn in their conversation when he'd reply with timid politeness. 

Before long his mother said they should be getting home and they prepared to leave. Ryan thanked Melanie again for lunch and providing him with some clean socks and after saying their goodbyes they headed for the car. “That was nice wasn't it.” his mother said as they fastened their seatbelts.

“Yeah.” Ryan replied, although there was a hint of uncertainty in his tone. 

“I'm very proud of you.”

“Why? I didn't do anything.”

 “You did everything.” his mother replied. “You were charming and polite and whenever Mel complimented your clothes you thanked her.” she said. “Even when she said your lipstick looked nice you said thank you.”

“I was too embarrassed to say anything else. I felt like such a girl.”

“Girl's don't wear Sunday best.”

“I know but everything about it is girlie. Even my undies.” he frowned. “Can I put some normal clothes on when we get home?”

“I suppose.” his mother half heartedly replied. “...since you've been on your best behaviour all day.” 

“Thanks.” Ryan replied. 

The sun was getting low in the sky as they drove the pleasant country lanes back to their hometown and he counted down the miles until he could dress like a normal boy again. They drove down the high street, past the cinema where Ryan would have rather been today and he felt more than a little hard done by. Eventually they reached the suburbs and the car turned into their leafy cul-de-sac. His mother noticed a couple of familiar faces. “Is that Paul and Patrick?” she quizzed. 

“Oh what are they doing here?” Ryan grimaced. “Oh don't slow down Mum!” he said his mother slowed the car as she passed them.

“Well they've obviously been to call for you.” his mother said, pipping the horn to grab their attention. “Patrick's wearing Sunday best too.” she noted as she pulled into the pavement. Sitting in the passenger seat, Ryan was nearest to them. His mother lowered the car window. “Hello boys.” she chirped. 

“Oh hello. We just called round for you.” Paul said. “Pat and Pete couldn't make the afternoon viewing so we're going to the five o'clock showing instead and thought you'd be able to come.”

“Oh err....” Ryan bashfully responded. 

“You're cutting it fine boys. It's almost half four.” Ryan's mother said.

“Yeah we're heading for the bus.” Paul told her. “You wanna come?”

“I can't really I’m err....” Ryan hesitantly replied.

“Course you can.” his mother told him. 

“But I'll need to change first.”

“Patrick's wearing Sunday best too.” Paul stated, glancing back it his friend who, like Ryan, wears a smart winter dress coat, girlie white socks, shiny black shoes and holds onto a small handbag. “We're meeting Peter there and he said he had to wear Sunday clothes so.” Paul explained. “So it'll be me who's the odd one out.” he dourly shrugged.

“Put this in your purse.” Ryan's mother said, removing a twenty pound note from her wallet.

“Oh but...” Ryan said, considering nothing but his Sunday attire.

“Do you boys want to get in. I'll give you a lift into town... save you the bus fare.” Ryan's mother said to his friends.

“Shall we get a lift?” Paul said to Patrick. 

“Yeah!” Patrick enthused. 

Paul climbed in the back seat followed by Patrick. Ryan's mother smiled and complimented Patrick’s prissy white knee socks. Bashfully he said thank you. He also wore a sizeable bow on the back of his short boyish hair, but she didn't draw attention to that. “Buckle up boys.” she said. “I'll just pop home and grab your phone Ryan, then you can call me when the film's finished and I'll come and collect you.”

The very last thing Ryan wanted to do was go to the cinema wearing his Sunday best outfit, but since Patrick is wearing his, he can't really use that as a reason... and having previously stressed that he really wanted to go to the cinema to watch Furiosa Four, he didn't have a leg to stand on. They were only twenty yards from Ryan's home so the drive took literally seconds. “Won't be a tick.” his mother said, jumping out of the car and striding to the front door. 

“How come you didn't go in the afternoon?” Ryan nervously asked his friends.

“My Nana was coming for lunch.” Patrick said. 

“And Pete had to go to his aunt's.” Paul added. “I did try ringing you.” he said.

“Soz... Mum wouldn't let me have my phone today.”

“My Mum's the same on Sundays.” Patrick said as Ryan's mother returned to the car.

“Thanks.” Ryan said, taking his phone from his mother and seeign three missed calls from Paul. Ryan could feel Paul watching as he opened his dainty little handbag and put his phone inside. 

His mother turned the car around and headed back toward he town centre. “So what have you boys been doing today?” she asked.

“I've just been knocking about waiting to go to the pictures.” Paul replied. 

“My Nan came for dinner.” Patrick added. 

“So that explains why you're dressed so nice?” Ryan's mother replied. 

“That and the fact that my Mum's decided that Sunday best is for every Sunday and not just the occasional Sunday.” Patrick glumy said.

“Do you ever wear Sunday clothes Paul?”

“No.” Paul replied. “My mum doesn't like them for boys.”

“Neither did mine until last week.” Ryan dryly told them.

“Well we can all change our minds.” his mother said. “And so many boys seem to wear Sunday clothes these days.” she added.

“Not that many.” Ryan claimed. 

“Well I could be wrong but I reckon two-thirds of the boys in this car are wearing Sunday best.” his mother smugly said.

“And Peter might be wearing a Sunday dress.” Paul added.

It was only a five minute drive into the town centre. Ryan was a bag of nerves as his mother pulled in so the boys could get out. “Ring me when it's finished.” his mother said. “I'll pick you up here.”

“OK.” Ryan said as he opened the car door. 

“Have fun.” were his mother's parting words. 

Ryan gulped and looked at his friends, both of whom looked him up and down. “You've only got ankle socks on!” Patrick noticed. 

“Hmm.” Ryan responded, looking at Patrick's legs. The knee sock he wears are a thick threaded lace with a quarter inch of frilly trim around the cuffs. On his feet is a pair of flat black ballet style shoes with a little bow on each toe. 

Paul wears a pair of rugged looking hiking shoes and long cargo pants in charcoal grey. “You've got a bow in your hair.” Paul noticed. 

“Yeah.” Ryan said. “Mum made me wear make-up as well.”

“At least it's not a massive bow like mine.” Patrick said, turning his head to reveal the effeminate monstrosity clipped to the back of his boyish head. “I'd take it off but it's too big for my purse and my coat doesn't have pockets.”

“Mine neither.” Ryan said. “Where we meeting Pete at?”

“I said I’d call him.” Paul said, removing his phone from his coat pocket. “Oh shit... my battery's almost dead... can you call him?”

Ryan felt so self conscious as he unclipped his dainty little handbag and opened it. He pulled out his phone, opened the contacts and scrolled through the list of names until he found Peter. “Hi Pete... it's Ryan... I’m on the main street with Paul and Pat heading to the cinema. Where you at?” he asked. The call was brief and Ryan soon hung up. “He's on his way through King's Arcade, said he'll be there in about five minutes.”

“Cool.” Paul replied as Ryan put his phone back into his handbag. “Is it weird having to dress like that?”

“Course it is it's my first time.” Ryan said.

“Aren't your legs cold?”

“A bit.” Ryan replied, glancing down at his pale thin legs, cute little ankle socks and dainty black shoes. “Can we walk?” he said. 

The three boys set off walking but only Ryan's shoes clacked loudly against the paving. Being a Sunday evening there's not many people in the usually bustling town centre, but it's far from deserted. They pass plenty of people on the main street and both Patrick and Ryan receive plenty of glances. “So...” Paul began, breaking their silence. “...what happens in winter? Do you wear tights or...?”

“My mum said I'll have to toughen up.” Ryan told him. 

“Is that why you're in ankle socks?” Patrick asked.

“No. I was wearing knee socks but they got splashed with mud and my Mum's friend gave me these to wear instead.” Ryan explained. “I was looking forward to getting changed into something normal when I got home... but then we saw you two.” he said. “If only we'd got back half an hour earlier.”

“Well at least you're not on your own.” Patrick replied.

“I'm the one on my own.” Paul glumly stated. 

“Yet for some reason, you're not in the least bit envious of either of us.” Patrick said. There was a hint of sarcastic humour in his tone.

“I can't disagree with that.” Paul replied. 

“So how long's it been for you Pat?” Ryan asked. 

“Since Easter.” he replied. “But I didn't have to wear it very often until recently.” he added. “And now I’ve got to wear it every Sunday.” he grumped. Since he wore an overcoat similar in style to Ryan's, Ryan could only imagine what Patrick's Sunday best outfit looks like. Obviously it'll be dark shorts and a white blouse but recalling all the styles he saw the previous day, the blouse could be relatively plain or incredibly prissy and the same goes for his shorts. 

“Well at least you're not letting it stop you from having a life.” Paul said. “If it were me I wouldn't dare step out of the house.”

“But you were a flowerboy. You wore a dress in front of loads of people.” Ryan reminded him.

“Yeah but I was a kid and it was a wedding” Paul told them.

“How old were you?”

“Ten.” he said. “Most people were gorping at the pageboy so I kind of got off lightly.” he recalled, adding that his brother was a bridesmaid along with their cousin Colin.

“My sister's threatening to have me as one of her bridesmaids.” Patrick confessed. 

“Is she getting married?”

“Just got engaged so there's no date yet.”

“Is that Peter over there.” Ryan said as they approached the entrance to the King's Arcade where a familiar face boy wearing a pale blue dress coat stood staring at his phone. Suddently Ryan's phone began ringing. “PETE!” Ryan hollered. “We're here.” he said, raising his hand as Peter looked in their direction.

Along with the woollen dress coat, Peter is wearing a pale blue band in his hair and carries a small white handbag. Bare legs emerge from his mid thigh length coat and a pair of plain white knee socks clad his calves. On his feet is a pair of pale blue Mary Jane's with kitten heels and a T-strap. He skewed his jaw as his three friends approached. “Mum said I had to wear Sunday best 'coz you'd be wearing yours Pat.” Peter told them.

“How do you walk in those shoes?” Paul asked.

“Noisily.” Peter dryly replied. The height of his heels are about the same as Ryan's; a modest inch and a half, but the sharply tapered shape has a much smaller footprint. “Glad you could make it Ryan.” Peter said, looking him up and down. 

“Yeah... I didn't have time to change.” Ryan said, looking down at his exposed legs.

“Aren't you cold in ankle socks?” Peter asked.

“A bit.”

“Aren't you two cold in knee socks?!” Paul asked, looking at his three friends' legs collectively. “I feel almost guilty wearing long pants.”

“No you don't.” Ryan jovially replied.

“Shall we walk?” Patrick said. “I'm getting cold just standing around.”

The four boys headed in the direction of the cinema. It's bright lights are visible even from a few hundred yards away. Patrick and Paul walked ahead with Ryan and Peter behind. “So when did you start having to wear Sunday clothes?” Ryan asked.

“Last summer.” Peter replied. “But it's usually a Sunday dress.”

“Hmm.” Ryan responded. “Do you always have to wear make-up too?”

“Usually. You?”

“Well.. today's my first time so... probably.” Ryan said. “The last thing I expected was to be going to the cinema wearin' it.”

“I must admit I was surprised when I saw you.” Peter said. “Wearing ankle socks in October is pretty brave.”

“I'm not wearing them through choice.”

“None of us are dressed like this through choice.” Peter stated.

“It doesn't get any easier then?”

“Yeah it does.” Peter replied. “But it's never gonna be ideal.” he added. “I'd rather just dress like a boy.”

“I said that to my Mum and she said I am dressed like a boy.” Ryan said, snorting a little. 

“My mum says that when I’m wearing a dress.”

“It's ridiculous innit.” Ryan mused. “Clattering about in heels, carrying handbags, wearing make-up and it's... oh you're definitely dressed like a boy.”

“It is, but the weird thing is... we are.” Peter replied. “You never see girls wearing the sorts of dresses they make for boys. They all get to wear fashionable clothes whilst all we get is 'timeless styles'.” he grumbled. 

“Would you really rather wear a dress than Sunday best?” Ryan asked. “Or were you just saying that?”

“It depends on the dress. A Sunday dress is below the knee so I'd rather wear one of those than tiny shorts.” he replied. “...but a sun-dress is scary short so I'd much rather wear shorts.” he added. “But Mum hardly ever gives me a choice so I just wear what I’m told, otherwise I’ve no phone or console for a month.”

“I can't imagine wearing a dress.” Ryan said, trying to imagine wearing a dress.

“Your jacket's more or less a dress.” Peter said. “I take it you've no pockets?”

“No. What's all that about?”

“Keeping up appearances in'it.” Peter claimed. “And so we have to have a handbag.”

“Hmm.” Ryan frowned. 

Their heels clacked even more loudly on the marble floor of the cinema foyer. A handful of people queued at the ticket office and few more loitered by the popcorn and snack stall. The four boys joined the queue. Come the point he was third in line, Ryan removed the twenty pound note from his purse and clutched it tightly in his fist. He put the twelve pounds change back in and clipped it shut before waiting for Peter, Patrick and Paul to get their tickets. His attention was drawn by a small group entering; two girls and a boy who also happened to be wearing Sunday best; black lace-up shoes, pelerine knee socks, short black short and a short black jacket. A small single bow adorns his hair. Ryan didn't stare. He just noticed the boy and looked towards his friends and felt relieved that he wasn't the only one wearing this latest prissy fashion for boys. 

Peter joined him first and Patrick wasn't far behind. When Paul joined them he cast his eyes around the foyer and said “Oh look it's Kelly McGinty.”

“Hi Paul!” Kelly chirped having noticed him notice her. “Is that Ryan Jackson as well?” she said, “...and Patrick Barnes!” she realised. 

Ryan was mortified to see a girl from school... but he's with three friends from school so why should it matter? he thought as his mind began to race. “Shall we go in?” he suggested, seeking solace in the dark auditorium.

“We may as well wait for Kelly and sit with her.” Paul said. 

“That's easy for you to say... you're not wearing Sunday best.” Ryan said.

“She's with her brother and he's wearing Sunday best.” Paul replied. The four boys waited for Kelly, her friend and younger brother to get their tickets. “I thought we could all sit together.” Paul said when they approached. 

“Oh that'd be ace.” Kelly said. “It's my brother's birthday and his first time in Sunday best so he's feeling a bit shy... aren't you Kevin?” The boy half hid himself behind his sister. She introduced Ryan, Paul, Peter and Patrick by name, saying they were her friends from school, before introducing her friend Kirsten. 

“I love your outfits.” Kirsten said. “Aren't you cold in just ankle socks?” she said to Ryan. 

“I was out there. Not so much in here.” he said. 

“It's really warm in here!” Kelly said, unzipping her baby pink puffa jacket to reveal a plain T-shirt beneath. “Do you want some popcorn Kevin?” she asked her little brother.

Paul had removed his coat and Peter had unbuttoned his coat to. Patrick was unbuttoning his jacket and Ryan followed suit. “I hope it's a bit cooler in there.” Ryan said. 

“Oh I love those shorts Peter!” Kelly said, having got some pop-corn. “We don't often see colours.” she said. Peter's shorts are pale blue and match his jacket and shoes. Her gaze shifted to Patrick than Ryan. “Standard black. Very smart.” she said approvingly. “How come you're letting the side down Paul?”

“Yeah.” Kirsten concurred in an accusational tone. 

“My mum doesn't like Sunday best.” Paul shrugged.

“Pity.” Kelly said. “I love seeing boys dressed all nice and smart.”

“Shall we go in?” Ryan prompted. 

All seven of them filtered into the darkened auditorium and after a brief debate over where they should all sit, they took a vacant row in a middle tier. “That's a striking bow you're wearing Patrick.” Kelly said. 

“I'd put it in my handbag if it'd fit in without getting scrunched.” Patrick replied. 

“It's no use in your handbag. It's supposed to be seen.” Kelly smiled. “And it's not Sunday best without a bow.” she added.

“My Mum says that too.” Ryan replied as his fingers reached up to his hairband and the modest bow that adorns it. “I think it's even warmer in here.” he realised, pulling his arms out of his warm woolly dress coat whilst resting his handbag on his lap.

“Cute blouse.” Kirsten said. 

“Thanks.” Ryan coyly replied, glancing awkwardly at his short puffed sleeves. Now his eyes have got used to the dark it seems so much brighter than when they first entered the auditorium. Both Patrick and Peter removed their coats too long and Peter's blouse is by far the prissiest with its lace trimmed collar, yoke and sleeves. Patrick's blouse is more sedate but has a broderie anglaise collar, bib and sleeves. 

They waited ten minutes facing a lifeless screen before the light dimmed right down. Then they sat through twenty minutes of commercials and trailers and eventually after another long dark wait, the movie finally began and over the course of the next two hours Ryan at last felt suitably distracted from his prissy little outfit. 

The auditorium illuminated the moment the end credits began to roll. They gathered their coats and bags under the bright lights, briefly discussing the movie before Kirsten and Kelly began complimenting the boys' outfits and accessories now they could see them properly. Kelly liked the little box pleats on Ryan's shorts. Kirsten liked the turned down cuffs on his ankle socks. Peter and Patrick’s outfits received compliments too and Paul scoffed and chuntered under his breath at the positive comments his friends were getting. “You're only jealous because they're getting all the attention.” Kelly told him.

“I'm really not jealous.” Paul stated.

“I am.” Ryan said. “I'd much rather be wearing something normal like Paul.”

“Boring.” the girls said in unison.

“I like boring clothes.” Ryan shrugged. “This all feels far too fussy.”

“Yours is the least fussy of the lot.” Kirsten told him. “It's still nice but I wouldn't say it's fussy.”

“Mine's definitely fussy.” Peter said. “I feel like little boy blue.”

The girls agreed that Peter's Sunday best outfit was very fussy. “A bit too pageboy for my liking. I much prefer black shorts.” Kelly added, saying they were more traditional.

“Traditional?” Ryan quizzed. “There was no such thing as Sunday best a year or two ago.” he said. 

“Yeah but pageboys traditionally wore little black shorts and Sunday best is based on that.”

“Yeah.” Kirsten agreed. “You still look well cute Peter.”

“They all do.” Kelly said as they filtered out of the auditorium.

Ryan donned his jacket then opened his handbag and removed his phone. “Hi Mum... it's Ryan... the film's finished.” he said. A moment later he hung up. “My mum's already parked up on the high street so I'd best get going.” he said to his friends. “See you tomorrow I guess.” he said. 

It was properly dark outside and few people were out and about. The street lights shone down on Ryan and cast sharp shadows of his silhouette onto the pavement. It's a silhouette he's not accustomed to seeing and it strongly resembled the icon for the girls toilets; a head, a dress and two thin legs. His heels clacked loudly and the night air chilled his exposed legs as Ryan reflected on the most peculiar day. The last thing he expected was to end up going to the cinema with his friends wearing his Sunday best, and the very last thing he expected was that most of them would be in their Sunday best too. 

He recognised his mother's car from some distance away. His mother noticed him approach from the same distance. “Oh he looks so smart.” she cooed to herself. “How was the film?” she asked as he sat beside her. 

“OK.” Ryan replied. “Not the best Furiosa movie. I think Kevin enjoyed it most.”

“Who's Kevin?”

Ryan explained that they bumped into a girl from school in the foyer and she was with her friend Kirsten and her little brother Kevin. “It was his first day in Sunday best too.” Ryan added.

“Did he look nice?”

“I don't know. Everyone says we look nice but I don't think we do.”

“Who's everyone?” his mother asked as she started the engine.

“You, Melanie, Kelly, Kirsten.” he listed.

“Well I suppose you boys don't really know what's nice and what's not.” his mother said. “Are you hungry?”

“I'm starving.” Ryan said. 

“Shall we get a KFC?”

“Can we?” Ryan enthused. It was a short drive to the fast-food restaurant. His mother drove into the car-park. “Aren't we going to the drive-through?”

“It's never same when it's a takeaway.” his mother replied. “It's not too busy. We'll be served in no time.” she said.

“Okay.” Ryan groaned. 

“Can I top up your lippy before we go in?”

“If I say no you'll just do it anyway won't you.”

His mother smiled and nodded. Ryan sighed, unclipped his dainty little bag and handed his mother the lipstick. She gently held his jaw as she painted his lips and Ryan rolled them together. “Much nicer.” his mother told him.

“If you say so.” Ryan glumly replied.

“You know so.” his mother said. “Come on.”

Ryan stepped out of the car. “It's freezing.”

“It's not that cold.” his mother said.

“You're wearing long pants.” Ryan replied. “All I’ve got is ankle socks.” he said, looking down at his legs as they strode across the KFC car park. 

He pushed the door open with his spare hand and held for his mother and once inside the restaurant they joined the short queue and were served within a minute or two. “Do you want to grab the window seat over there?” his mother suggested whilst they waited for the order to be assembled. He felt so self-conscious passing tables occupied by small family groups and couples. The sound of his shoes on the tiled floor drew their glances. Ryan tried not to look. Instead he faced his clear reflection in the window as he approached the vacant table. His mother wasn't far behind. “You OK?” she asked as she sat opposite him. Ryan said he was. “Good. I'm glad.” she said, sliding his chicken burger and fries toward him. “You got to see your movie after all.”

“Yeah.” Ryan said. “I could have done without bumping into Kelly McGinty though.” he sighed. 

“Why?” his mother quizzed. “Don't you like her?”

“No she's OK... but everyone at school's gonna know we were all dressed in Sunday best.”

“Lots of boys wear Sunday best Ryan.” his mother told him. “It was only Paul who wasn't wasn't it?”

“Most boys in the cinema weren't. We were pretty much the only ones.” he told her. 

“What were the others wearing?”

“Normal clothes.”

“I mean Patrick and Peter and... Kevin?”

“Oh... erm.” Ryan timidly described each outfit; Patrick's flat ballet shoes and lacy knee socks, knife pleated Sunday shorts and his blouse with its broderie anglaise sleeves, bib and collar, and a massive bow on the back of his head. Peter wore pale blue Mary Jane shoes with little kitten heels, plain white knee socks with a bit of frill around the cuffs, pale blue shorts, a very flouncy lace trimmed blouse and a pale blue Alice band. His mother said that sounded more like a pageboy outfit than standard Sunday best. “That's what Kelly and Kirsten said.” Ryan replied. “He still looked nice though.”

“Oh, good.”

“I didn't think he looked nice... Kelly and Kirsten did.” Ryan stated. “He had pink lipstick on.”

His mother emitted an approving “Hmm.” before saying “Patrick wasn't wearing make-up was he.” Ryan shook his head and said he didn't want to. “It's not really Sunday best without a bit of make-up.”

“Kelly and Kirsten said that too.” Ryan replied.

“And what was Kirsten's brother wearing? Kenny wasn't it?”

“Kevin. And he's Kelly's brother.” Ryan corrected, before describing his shiny black lace-up shoes, white pelerine knee socks, little black shorts and a short black jacket. “It was his birthday too.” Ryan said. “Imagine having to wear Sunday best on your birthday of all days.”

“That's one day when you should wear something nice.” his mother replied. “Was he wearing make-up as well?”

“I think so.” Ryan replied. “He was hiding behind his sister most of the time. He had a bow in his hair.” he recalled. 

“It's not really Sunday best without a bow.” his mother smiled, looking at the hairband and bow in her son's hair.

“Peter just wore a plain band.” Ryan stated before taking another bite out of his chicken burger.

The headlights of a car entering the car park flashed across their faces. Ryan paid little attention until a moment later when his mother said “That looks like two boys in Sunday dresses.” 

Ryan turned and looked out of the window to see three people walking towards the entrance; a middle aged woman and two boys; each wearing a short fluffy fleece jacket with billowy pastel coloured skirts reaching down to the tops of their calves. On their feet is a pair of white Mary Jane shoes and each carries a small white handbag. It's their short boyish hair that gives them away. “Oh no!” Ryan grimaced.

“What?”

“It's Tim and Tom Latham from school.” Ryan said. Clearly he was perturbed by their arrival. He didn't stare but his mother kept glancing as they entered and waited to be served. Ryan sipped his drink, ate a few chips before picking up his burger. A few minutes passed before the sound of heels approached. The woman said they should sit by the window and no matter how hard Ryan tried not to, he glanced up as they passed and caught the eye of one of them. A sudden sharp gasp from Thomas drew his brother's attention and both were looking directly at Ryan. “Hi.” Ryan timidly said. 

The brothers were clearly dumbstruck. “Do you know this boy?” the woman asked them, smiling warmly at Ryan and his mother. 

“Err... yes auntie. Hello Ryan.” Timothy stammered. “We go to school together.”

“Oh how nice.” their aunt said. “Come along, let's not disturb their meal.”

They continued to a vacant window seat where their aunt instructed them to remove their jackets. Ryan was facing them. His mother wasn't. “I'm just gonna pop to the loo.” Ryan's mother said. The boys removed their fluffy fleece jackets to reveal their matching pastel dresses just as Ryan's mother strolled past them. Ryan tried not to glare and sank his teeth into his burger. Both sat with their backs to Ryan. Their dresses have a short upright turtle collar, buttons running all the way up the back and short princess sleeves. Ryan's mother returned a couple of minutes later and smiled at the boys as she passed them. “They look nice.” she quietly said as she sat. 

“You only went to the loo so you could look at their dresses.” Ryan quietly claimed. His mother responded with a wry smile as she picked up the remains of her chicken burger. 

Ryan continued eating too and reflected on his first day wearing his Sunday best. It was supposed to just be Sunday lunch at Melanie's house, miles away from his hometown where no one he knew would see his prissy Sunday outfit. The long walk up to the ruined manor house was an unexpected outing that Ryan could have done without, but to end up going to the cinema with his friends, bumping into Kelly McGingty, then ending up in KFC and seeing two more kids from school was much more than Ryan had bargained for. They soon finished their burgers and fries. Ryan wiped his lips on a serviette and found his lipstick on it too. “Have I smeared it?” he timidly asked his mother. 

“No you've just taken most of it off.” she replied. “Not to worry. You still look presentable.” she smiled.

Ryan glanced toward the two boys from school as he stood. They were occupied with their food but he did exchange a smile with their aunt who's eyes looked him up and down. “I hope we don't bump into anyone else today.” Ryan said as they exited the building.

“Those boys looked lovely in their Sunday dresses.” his mother said. 

“Hmm.” Ryan responded in an uncertain tone.

“Those little fleece jackets were quite trendy.” his mother added as they crossed the car park.

“Their dresses weren't.” Ryan said. 

“Boy's dresses are timeless rather than trendy.” his mother said.

Unbeknown to Ryan, the two boys watched as he crossed the car park. They commented on his ankle socks and bare legs. “He must be freezing.” Timothy said. “Yeah.” Thomas agreed. “He's probably used to it.” their aunt told them. “Lots of boys wear Sunday clothes these days.” she added.

Ryan and his mother got into the car. “Can I get changed when we get home?” he asked. 

“You may as well keep it on 'til bedtime now.” his mother replied. 

“Oh but Mum I’ve been wearing it all day.”

“The point of Sunday clothes is that you wear them all day long.” she told him. “Another hour won't make any difference.”

“It will to me.” Ryan moaned. 

They soon returned home and Ryan unbuttoned his jacket and removed it. “Do you want to redo your lipstick?”

“What's the point? No one's gonna see me now.”

“Well... you haven't applied it yourself yet and that's something you'll need to start doing.” his mother said. “People will think you're a mummy's boy if I have to keep applying your lipstick.”

With a little prompting, Ryan raced his reflection in the hallway mirror and carefully applied his own lipstick. “There. Not so hard is it?” his mother said. 

“No but it's embarrassing.” Ryan replied. 

“You’ll think nothing of it once you're used to it. Those boys in KFC probably did their own make-up.”

“You can't possibly know if they did it themselves or not.”

“Does Peter do his own make-up?”

“I don't know.”

“I bet he does. You'll have to ask him at school tomorrow.”

“I'm not gonna ask his that!”

“Why not?” his mother quizzed. “You both wear it. It's something you have in common.”

“Yeah but it's not something I want to have long conversations about.” Ryan grimaced. “Will I have to wear this next Sunday as well.” he asked as he gorped at his reflection in the hallway mirror.

“I think so. Your friends seem to wear Sunday clothes regularly.”

“Not all of them. Paul doesn't wear any.”

“Paul felt like the odd one out at the cinema.” 

“He might have been the odd one out but he certainly wasn't down about it. If anything we envied him.” Ryan claimed, recalling how embarrassed he felt when Kirsten and Kelly were commenting on every little detail such as the little box pleats on his shorts and the turned down scallops on his socks, the striking hair bow Patrick wore and Peter's 'unusual' pastel blue Sunday shorts. “According to Kelly black shorts are traditional.” Ryan commented.

“They are.”

“How can they be traditional when boys didn't even wear Sunday clothes a year or two ago?” Ryan asked. “I didn't wear them this time last week.”

“It feels traditional because the trend took root so quickly.” his mother told him. “Give it another year or two and most boys will be wearing Sunday clothes every Sunday.” she supposed. “And did you notice that they didn't just have Sunday dresses when we were shopping yesterday?” she asked. Ryan seemed like he didn't understand the question. “They had house dresses, day dresses, play dresses...” she informed him. “They were all too short for Sunday.”

“They were in the Sunday section so they must be for Sunday.” Ryan reckoned, recalling all the different dresses for sale in the 'Sunday' aisle and thinking that some of them did look uncomfortably short. Then he considered his Sunday shorts. “How come these aren't too short for Sunday?” he asked.

“Because Sunday shorts are supposed to be short.” his mother replied. 

“Well it doesn't make any sense to me.”

“Well it's just the style. It doesn't need to make sense. It doesn't make much sense that boys only wear mascara and lipstick when girls have to wear lippy and mascara, eye-shadow, eye-liner, blush, foundation... loads more stuff.” she explained. “I have have to spend a good half an hour doing my make-up when I’m getting dressed up, plus I have to style my hair and choose jewellery. You'll only spend a couple of minutes doing your make-up and tending your hair.” she said as her eyes focused on his bow. Ryan rolled his eyes upwards as if also looking at his bow. “And it's only once a week.” she said, slightly stroking his hair.

“Yeah I guess.” he humbly replied. 

~o0o~

The next morning at school, everyone knew that Ryan Jackson had been to the cinema wearing Sunday best. Kelly had proudly told her friends, not to tease Ryan but because she thought he looked great. The news went from desk to desk and when Ryan walked in his was instantly called a mummy's boy. Ryan had anticipated that and defended himself by glumly saying that he didn't have a choice, and that 'loads' of boys have to wear Sunday clothes whether they like them or not. Some of the boys laughed, teased and taunted him, claiming that he must've begged his mummy for some pretty Sunday clothes. Some of the boys defensively confessed to wearing Sunday clothes too and stated that they wouldn't wear them given the choice. Jeers of 'mummy's boy' came from several desks. Some of the girls defended the boys, saying that it's just a fashion trend. Many of the girls claimed to have brothers, cousins or boys next door who regularly wear Sunday clothes and some said they were cute, others said it was cool and some said it was weird. Opinions were clearly divided but it was apparent that Ryan had plenty of allies.

When Ryan got home from school, he told his mother what had happened at registration and that half the boys are calling him a mummy's boy. His mother suggested he takes no notice of them, reminding him that plenty of other boys wear Sunday clothes and that plenty of girls stood up for him. “It doesn't matter if they think you're a mummy's boy.” she said to him. “I know you're not.” she said. “Now I've washed your knickers, vest and socks. They're drying on your radiator.” she informed him. “And I've put your socks in your undie drawer so your sock drawer is now a special drawer to put your nice undies and socks in when they're dry.” she added.

“A whole drawer just for those?” Ryan quizzed.

“You'll be getting more nice undies and socks in time.” she told him. “Oh and I tidied your desk. Go and have a look.”

Ryan traipsed up to his bedroom and pushed open the door. The first thing he saw was his girlie undies and socks hung over his radiator, and his pageboy shoes lined up with his other shoes and trainers. “Oh what?!” he whined, looking at his desk. The top has been tidied from it's usual cluttered state and is completely bare except for his laptop, mouse and mat, and an LED vanity mirror mounted on a small perspex unit with two shallow perspex drawers; also illuminated. In one drawer are his hair bows and in the other some make-up. He found a button on the mirror which dimmed or brightened the lights, and turned them on and off. He turned them off and put his school bag down before returning downstairs.

“What do you think?” his mother gleefully asked. “I thought it was really cool for a vanity mirror.”

“Yeah it's OK.” he apathetically said. “Thanks.”

“Did you check if your knickers were dry?” she asked.

“Err... no.”

“Did you look in your drawer?”

“No.”

His mother sighed.

“Oh you've not bought me some new undies already have you?”

His mother smiled.

“Oh why?”

“Because they're nicer than you're old undies and they had a three for two offer on the multipacks.” his mother told him. “Oh, and I also got you one of these.” she said, removing something from her apron hook. “A pinafore.”

“Oh I hated wearing that. It felt like a dress.”

“It's nothing like a dress. And it's just for when you're eating, so you don't splash your clothes.” she said.

“Well I hope that's only for when I’m wearing my Sunday clothes.” Ryan grumbled as he grimaced at the short frilly pinafore apron.

“No it's for when you're eating. Breakfast, lunch and dinner.” she told him as his face dropped.

Ryan went up to his room to get started on his homework assignments, but he did look inside his sock drawer where he found three unopened packs of underwear; two were a three pack of boys panties, the third a pack of four camisole vests. He shut the drawer and glanced at his radiator. “That means I’ve got seven pairs of panties.” he realised.