A Tough Journey

After a long and mostly silent journey, the taxi cab eventually rolled up outside Aunt Martha's sizeable home and pulled to a halt. They both peered expectantly at the entrance to the house. Its front door opened and Martha, along with her housemaid appeared on the doorstep. David and his mother got out of the taxi cab. "Would you mind waiting a moment?" Valerie asked the driver.

"Good morning Valerie." Martha smiled. "David." she said, smiling down on the boy.

"Hello Auntie." David cheerfully replied. His mother kept a tight hold of his hand.

"You will be gentle with him won't you Martha." she asked.

"That depends entirely on the boy." Martha sternly replied. "David, say goodbye to your mother, then Nanny will take you to your room."

A perplexed expression swept the boy's face. He knew the housemaid but didn't know who 'nanny' was. He queried this and his aunt gestured to her housemaid. "But that's Isabel." David replied.

"She's also your nanny and you shall address her as such." his great aunt replied, before telling him to say goodbye to his mother.

"Bye Mom... I'll see you in a few weeks." the boy coyly smiled.

"Goodbye David." his mother said, hugging him tightly and reminding him to be good for Aunt Martha. "I love you... more than you ever know." she added before letting him go. "Can I write to him?" she asked her aunt.

"Of course." Martha replied. "And David will write back, won't you young man."

"Sure!" the boy replied. His aunt rolled her yes and told him to go with 'nanny'. "Hi Isabel." the boy cheerfully said.

"You shall address me as Nanny and nothing else young man." the usually friendly housemaid retorted.

"I don't need a nanny." the boy confidently replied, before stating his age.

"That's the precise age that all boys in our family get a nanny young man." his great aunt stated. She turned to her niece. "Well you'd best get going Valerie... you don't want to keep the driver waiting."

"Yes." Valerie gulped. "I'll see you soon David... and please be good." she hollered to the boy as he was led indoors. The taxi driver honked his horn impatiently. "Go easy on him Auntie." she begged, recalling her own brother's experience when he was the same age.

"The hard part is getting him into his first dress... after that, it should be plain sailing." her aunt replied. "Safe journey." she smiled, before turning and taking herself indoors.

The taxi horn honked again and tearful Valerie trotted toward it. As she returned home, she feared that her son would hate her for sending him to be petticoated. But she knew she had no real choice. She's reliant on the family trust fund to provide her income and it's a considerable amount... but it does come with strings attached and her son is about to find out just what those strings are.

~o0o~

A week passed by in which David was seldom out of his mother's thoughts. By way of a distraction, she took herself to the hairdressers and asked for something completely different and was delighted with the results. The next day, she began to pen David a letter that went through numerous drafts before she felt she'd written something appropriate under the circumstances. She told him that she loved him very much, and that she was looking forward to seeing him very soon, but left out the guilt ridden apology for sending him to Aunt Martha's where his normal life as a boy would be turned completely upside down.

Three days later, she received a reply from David; penned in his very best handwriting, on scented writing paper in a delicate shade of pastel pink that featured a pretty floral border. She could only imagine what her son was wearing as he wrote the letter.

Dear Mummy, 

Thank you for writing to me. I miss you very much too and look forward to coming home. Nanny and Auntie are looking after me very well and I'm trying my best to behave myself and do as I'm told...

As Valerie read her son's letter, she knew that Aunt Martha must have been stood over him, dictating word for word what he had to write. She recalled the days of her youth when her brother Wilfred was sent to stay with Aunt Martha at the age of eleven. Valerie would have been seven or eight years old at the time and knew nothing about petticoating until Wilfred returned home; wearing a dainty gingham dress, pelerine ankle socks and white Mary Jane shoes. Valerie and her sister loved the fact that their big brother had to wear dresses all the time and they loved to tease him relentlessly... but as Valerie got older, she began to realise just how daunting it must have been for a young boy to all of a sudden have to dress and behave like a girl.

Valerie read the letter from David several times before putting it away in her bureau. She trotted upstairs to check on the decorators who've spent several days stripping the wallpaper and sanding the woodwork in David's bedroom. In the corner of the relatively bare room are the tins of paint that will be applied to the walls, skirting boards, door and window frames. One is a vibrant glossy pink. The other a delicate shade of baby-pink. “You're daughter's going to love this room when we've finished.” one of the tradesmen says to Valerie. 

“I hope so.” Valerie replied, feeling more than a little guilty. When the decorating is finished, this is going to be the last room her eleven year old son would want to have as his bedroom... but thinking about it, who knows? Maybe David will respond well to being petticoated. He's a thoughtful, sensitive boy who doesn't like football much. He's happier playing with his train set or building model kits than he is playing army or pirates with the neighbourhood kids... not that he'll have a train set in his new bedroom. She tried to imagine how he'll respond when he does return home and sees for the first time just what's been done to his bedroom. Hopefully he'll have put two and two together and worked out that he won't be coming home to a typical boy's bedroom, or a typical boy's life for that matter. “Excuse me Ma'am.” one of the tradesmen said, having worked his way round to the section of wall by which Valerie was stood.

“Sorry... I was miles away.” Valerie replied, before leaving them to get on. On the landing is a bundle of boxes containing David's old toys and games, plus his books and comics. At eleven years old he didn't much play with his toys any more, but he did enjoy reading his books and comics. He won't be happy that they've gone, Valerie thought since he'd often reread his favourite stories. She does have a list of new books to get him, and some 'approved' comics... but whether he'll enjoy reading Bunty, Judy and Misty as much as he did Eagle, Hotspur and Victor is yet to be seen. 

As the days pass by, David's bedroom is painted in its delicate pink palette. A cream coloured carpet goes down and floral curtains go up, and after undergoing  a makeover, his old furniture is returned to his room. It seemed sacrilegious to paint the teak bedroom suite in white gloss, yet the flower fairy decoupage on the drawer fronts, chest tops, foot and headboard of his bed did look lovely. The old brass drawer knobs had been replaced with pink plastic ones and a large floral heart shaped rug lay in the centre of his new room. But the real focal point is the dressing table with its elegant mirror and ornate stool.

Valerie longed to see her son. They've never been apart for this long before and not even being allowed to call him on the telephone broke his mother's heart. Having witnessed her own brother having to endure being a petticoated boy, along with two cousins and one nephew, Valerie knows that they do eventually come to terms with their new life. Her brother Wilfred became a successful business man and is married with two daughters. Her cousin George works in a posh hotel on the south coast and Melvin married an older woman who has him well and truly wrapped around her finger. Her nephew; David's cousin Michael will soon be turning sixteen and after a very rocky couple of years, he eventually came to terms with his petticoated life by the time he was a teenager. Of course David hasn't seen his cousin since he was about six years old. Under the circumstances, it's best they're kept apart and Valerie has seldom mentioned her nephew Michael in the presence of her son... but now it's David's turn to be petticoated, she'll be able to tell him all about Michael, George and his uncle Wilfred.

~o0o~

After a fortnight since she sent her son to stay with Aunt Martha, Valerie received a phone call from her domineering aunt one evening. “How's he getting on?” Valerie asked in a most concerned tone of voice. 

“He was very naughty for the first few days but that's only to be expected.” her aunt replied. “How's his bedroom coming along?”

“It's all done.” Valerie replied. 

“Oh good.” Aunt Martha exclaimed. “And how's it looking?”

“Beautiful!” Valerie said. “I only hope David isn't too disappointed with it.”

“Boys like David need to make do with what they're given.” her aunt bluntly retorted.  “He's finally coming to terms with things and all being well, he'll be ready to return home next weekend.” her aunt informed her. “I feared we'd have another Michael on our hands.” she added. 

“Oh that is good news.” Valerie replied. “Is he there?”

“No. It's gone seven so he's tucked up in bed.”

“Yes, of course.” Valerie said having glanced at the time. 

“Now I don't want you being overly lenient with him when he does go home.” her aunt said. “Bath time is six-thirty and bedtime is seven, every night, without fail.”

“Yes Aunt Martha.”

“I don't want to have to employ a nanny to take charge of him... petticoating a boy costs a small fortune as it is!”

“You won't Aunt Martha... and thank you... I know it's expensive, what with all the new clothes and books and toys...”

“That's the tip of the iceberg.” Martha stated, interrupting her niece. “The bulk of the cost is his private tuition... and finishing school certainly isn't cheap!”

“Yes, of course.”

“Still... we don't have to worry about that for a good few years yet.”

“It won't be long before Michael's going to finishing school.” Valerie commented. “He'll be sixteen soon won’t he?”

“Yes in a couple of months.” Martha replied. “It remains to be seen what will become of that one. Hopefully he'll be more successful than your cousin George.”

“He works in a swanky hotel doesn't he.” Valerie recalled. “On the south coast.”

“As a chambermaid!”

“I see... I thought he was a concierge or something.”

“Well you thought wrong.” Martha bluntly stated. “Wilfred did well for himself, and at least Melvin married someone successful.”

“Yes.” Valerie agreed. 

“Right... I'll send a trunk over in the next few days. Make sure everything's unpacked by weekend.”

“I will Aunt Martha.” Valerie replied. “And thanks for letting me know how David's getting on. I can't wait to see him again.”

“He's looking forward to seeing you too... and I'll let him know you were asking after him.” Martha replied in a slightly warmer tone. 

“Thank you.” Valerie said. “Shell I come and collect him or...”

“Yes. I'll send you a cab on Saturday... providing he doesn't start acting up.”

“I'm sure he won't.” Valerie replied. The call ended abruptly. “Seven PM and he's in bed already!” she said to no one but herself. David hasn't gone to bed at the time since he was about seven years old, she recalled... “But that's the rule I suppose.” she sighed. “One of them anyway.” she nervously chuckled. 

She poured herself a glass of dry gin, topped it up with tonic water and dropped a couple of blocks of ice in the glass, before climbing the stairs to David's bedroom. “He'd love this if he was a girl!” she thought as she admired it's delicate pink palette, floral furnishings and feminine furniture. The bed is covered in a pale pink candlewick bedspread with pretty floral embroidery. A baby pink Oxford pillowcase with a beautiful butterfly print is rested against the head of his bed. The few books that sat on his books shelf were all books she recalled from her own childhood: The Book of Fairies and Fairytales, The Schoolgirls Own Adventure Book, Heidi, Little House on the Prairie, A Little Princess... and some that Valerie certainly didn't have when she was a girl; Princess Tales for Petticoated Boys, The Boys Book of Ballet, Skipping, Clapping & Dancing Games for Boys, and a curious contemporary retelling of the classic Prince and the Pauper titled The Princess and the Pauper, in which the young frumpy Princess Fiona swaps places with a working class boy called Norman.

Valerie perched herself on the little satin covered stool that stood in front of his dressing table and gazed around the room. She sipped her gin and tried to imagine how her son... no... how any boy might feel when he sees a room like this and is told that it's his new bedroom. It's not easy since no woman or girl can truly imagine how a boy might feel, but what she does know is that everything in this room is something most boys have been conditioned to detest. Currently, the drawers and wardrobe are empty yet when David returns home, they'll be home to all sorts of girlie clothes! 

Valerie cast her mind back some five years when her nephew Michael was first petticoated. Valerie's sister proudly showed her around his bedroom which was just as prissy as this and probably still is. At the time, she expected to see Michael too, sat sulking in a pretty pink frock but he was nowhere to be seen... until she looked out of his bedroom window and saw Michael in the back garden wearing a lemon yellow dress. He was playing skipping with his sisters and looked thoroughly miserable. “I do hope David isn't unhappy.” she said to herself. It was a lot to hope for, especially so early on in his journey. Michael didn't come to terms with it until he was a teenager and, so far as she can recall, it took her brother Wilfred a good few months to cheer up. “At least David doesn't have any sisters to tease him.” she told herself as she sipped her gin & tonic, feeling more than a little guilty for teasing her own brother all those years ago. 

~o0o~

A few days later, Valerie answers the door to a delivery man. His colleague is humping a sizeable trunk out of the back of their van. “Valerie Delphine?”

“Yes.” Valerie replied. 

“Got this for ya Ma'am.” the delivery man said, gesturing to his van.

“Yes... I've been expecting it... could you bring it in please.” she said, opening the door as wide as it would go. 

The delivery men were happy to hump the trunk into the hallway, but their expressions dropped when she asked them to take it up to the first floor. After much huffing and puffing, heaving and hoeing, they eventually got it up to the landing. Valerie directed them to the bedroom and the humped the trunk in there. “This your daughter's room?” one asked. 

“Yes.” Valerie lied before giving them each a tip, thanking them and showing them out. She shut the door and with wistful eyes, Valerie stared up the stairs towards David's bedroom. She couldn't wait to see what was in the trunk, although she did have a pretty good idea. The clothes her brother Wilfred had to wear, and more recently, those her nephew Michael was given weren't what normal girls his age would wear. His pretty dresses are rather 'young' in style and a smart outfit is often bland beyond belief. Michael never wears plimsolls or as far as she's aware, lace up shoes. It's always something smart, buckled and shiny, and often with a significant heel. It was the same for her brother when Valerie was a girl. For much of Walter's teenage years he wore nothing but heels from breakfast until bedtime.

Valerie gulped and began to feel butterflies in her tummy. A wave of guilt crashed over her as she feared David would hate her for sending him away to be petticoated... but what of the alternative? The family trust fund keeps them housed and fed and puts clothes on their back. Without it they'd be living in impoverished life on the wrong side of town. She'd have to find a job and scrimp and save just to pay the rent and bills. All of this she'll explain to her son when he does return home, but at eleven years old, will he understand? Valerie sighed and decided to leave the trunk unopened for a while. She dons her apron and loses herself in the household chores for a couple of hours.

Once all that was done, Valerie returned to David's bedroom and the trunk that sat menacingly in the centre of it. She took a deep breath before opening the two latches and lifting its heavy lid. “Oh my!” she gasped, seeing a resplendent display of neatly folded garments in pale pink, lilac, baby blue, mint green and pretty much every other pastel shade imaginable. Fabrics included cotton, linen, satin, chiffon and lace as well as some modern man-made fibres... but there was nothing modern about any of the styles. Peter pan collars, princess sleeves, lace trimmed yokes and bibs, tired skirts, smart yet plain pinafores, blouses with long billowing sleeves and elegant embroidery. Everything was delightful... or would have been if they were for a seven year old girl. An eleven year old boy is going to feel like a fish out of water wearing any of these clothes. 

She laid the frocks and blouse on his bed and once that was full, she hung each on a hanger and placed them in his wardrobe, but not before spending a few whimsical moments admiring each and every one. She felt both giddy and guilty as she returned to the trunk  and continued carefully removing the items within. More frocks, then some skirts and pretty little tops and beneath these a big cardboard box. Valerie wasted no time removing the lid and inside was exactly what she expected; a voluminous petticoat. Valerie clearly remembers getting one when she was a girl and to this very day, nothing has felt more delightfully girlie. She felt like a girl again as she hugged the feminine garment, then the telephone rang and abruptly pulled her out of a bliss filled moment.

After swiftly trotting down the stairs Valerie picked up the receiver. “Valerie Delphine speaking.” she said in her crystal clear telephone voice.

“Hello Valerie.”

“Hello Aunt Martha.”

“I trust the trunk was delivered today.”

“Yes it did thank you... I'm just unpacking it.” Valerie replied, before commenting on just how lovely everything looks. 

“Now you've sent all of his old clothes to the Salvation Army or somewhere.” her aunt enquired. “I don't want him finding them in a box in the loft or under the stairs.” she added. 

“Of course Auntie.” Valerie replied. “How's David?” she asked. 

“He's fine.” Martha replied. “Busy doing his embroidery.”

“Embroidery?!” Valerie said. “How nice.”

“Idle hands are the devil's playground.”

“Quite.” Valerie smiled. “What's he embroidering?”

“His name on a pair of his knickers.” her aunt stated. “He's actually quite nimble for a boy.” she added. 

“He always enjoyed making model kits.” Valerie said. 

“Well he won't be making any of those.” Martha bluntly retorted. 

“No.” Valerie gulped. 

“Now you'll plenty of pairs of knickers in the trunk and it's imperative that David embroiders him name on each and every pair.” Martha instructed. “The same goes for his over- knickers.”

“Erm... OK.” Valerie replied, before adding “I don't recall Wilfred having to do that.” 

“Wilfred did learn embroidery though.” Martha reminded her niece. 

“Yes but...”

“Don't 'but' me young lady.” Martha interrupted. Valerie apologised. “I had the idea when petticoating Michael.” Martha informed her. “It kept him occupied every evening after supper, as it will David.”

“Yes Auntie.” Valerie agreed. 

“I also had Michael hand-washing his knickers and socks every night after his bath. I want you to make sure that David does the same.”

“Of course Auntie.” Valerie said. “Are we still set for David coming home on Saturday?”

“Yes I think so... make sure everything's ready for him.”

“I shall.” Valerie said and with that, the call ended.

She returned to David's room and soon found all the underwear in the bottom of the trunk. She removed numerous pairs of frilly knickers and matching vests with little bows and lacy trim in all sorts of colours and patterns. “OH!” she exclaimed, finding a bundle of plain white training bras. “I don't recall Wilfred wearing anything like this.” she said to no one but herself. “I do remember these though.” she added, finding a bundle of very frilly cotton over-knickers. The two inch wide broderie anglaise frills around the leg holes, row upon row of frilly lace covering the back, and the single satin bow stitched to the front of the waistband... they're identical to the over-knickers Wilfred used to wear for bed every night.

In the bottom of the trunk is some nighties, numerous pairs of white ankle and knee socks and  a handful of pairs of white knitted tights, plus several familiar looking boxes. “Oh!” Valerie gushed when she opened the first to find a lovely pair of black Mary Jane’s with a two inch heel. All in all there were six pairs of girl's shoes and all of them had a small yet significant heel, and with their buckle & strap fastenings, there's no mistaking any of them for boy's shoes. With so many pretty clothes being slowly loaded into the drawers and wardrobe, Valerie is enthused to see them being worn... but she can't help but feel more than a little bit anxious because it's her son who'll be wearing them. 

~o0o~

On Saturday, Valerie wakes up feeling very anxious indeed. She fixes her hair and applies her make-up before choosing an outfit. She lays it on the bed before going downstairs where she pours herself some coffee and butters a slice of toast. After breakfast, Valerie occupied herself; straightening the lounge, plumping up cushions and such, but soon finds herself in David's bedroom, reluctantly admiring the clothes that hang in his wardrobe. Her hand sweeps across the tactile fabrics. Her eyes melt into the appealing array of colours. It seems such a shame that boys don't appreciate such finery, she thinks as she hopes that David won't be too disappointed with what awaits him. She did warn him in the vaguest of terms that things wouldn't be the same when he returned home and after three weeks of petticoating with Aunt Martha, hopefully he has some idea what to expect. 

At noon, almost on the dot, a taxi arrives and honks its horn. Valerie quickly grabs her handbag, checks her hair in the hallway mirror before leaving the house and locking the door. “Miss Delphine?” the driver asked.

“Mrs.” Valerie replied. She noticed the driver's eyes drop to her left hand. She hasn't worn a ring since the day her husband left with his secretary some eight years ago. She climbed in the back of the cab and the driver set off. The journey to Aunt Martha's sizeable home takes a good hour and a half. The driver makes small talk and Valerie responds with short, polite replies. He soon gets the message that she's not the chatty type so the journey is in relative silence. She watches the scenery roll past and occasionally removes a small vanity mirror from her handbag to check her hair and make-up. Eventually they arrive and Isabel the housekeeper greets Valerie. She also pays the taxi driver and as Valerie enters Aunt Martha's home, the taxi drives away. 

“Ah Valerie!” Martha says, greeting her niece with a kiss. “You've changed your hair I see.” she commented before asking how her journey was.

“Fine thank you.” Valerie replied, proudly bobbing her head as if to show off her new hair do. “How's David?” she asked.

“He's fine. Looking forward to going home.” Martha told her.

Valerie smiled. “Where is he?” she asked. 

“Playing in the garden.” Martha informed her. “But before you see him, I've got something for you.” Valerie's aunt added in a warm friendly tone. “Come.” she said, leading Valerie up the stairs to one of the spare rooms, on the bed of which lays a sleeveless dress in sage green gingham with a stylish square collar and a narrow belt about its waist. Martha picks the garment up. “What do you think?”

“It's lovely.” Valerie replied.

“Try it.” Martha said. “It should fit.” she claimed.

“Now?”

“Now's as good-a-time as any.” her aunt replied. 

Despite being a grown up and one who should be able to exercise her free will, Valerie knows when she's being told and not wanting to upset her domineering aunt, she tries the dress for size and it is indeed a perfect fit. “If I’d known you were gifting me a new dress auntie I wouldn't have spent quite so long choosing an outfit today.” Valerie commented as she admired herself in the mirror. 

Her aunt tells her it was a surprise and Valerie can't thank Martha enough. “Come... I'll take you to David.” Martha said.

Valerie knows her way to the back of the house but let her aunt lead her. The large patio doors are wide open and as Valerie nears them, her heart leapt into her mouth. She raised a hand to catch it. This moment she'll never forget for at that very moment she first saw her son wearing a dress... and not just any dress, but one identical in pattern, colour and style to the dress that Valerie wore, yet a little more infantile in style.

David sat perched on a swing and as his mother stepped outside, he noticed her. “Mummy!” he yelped before jumping to the ground and running toward her. 

“David my darling!” his mother gushed. They embraced. “I've missed you so much!” she told him, before breaking the hug and looking him up and down. “I hope you don't mind me saying but... you look lovely!” She smiled and stared deep into his eyes.

“You've changed your hair!” he said. "You look younger."

“Thank you!” she grinned.

“You're wearing the same dress as me.” he noticed. 

“And you're wearing the same dress as me.” his mother replied. “Have you had a nice time?” she asked. A lingering, longing expression swept her son's face. “I know it can't have been easy... but it really is for the best.” she told him.

“That's what Auntie keeps telling me.” David glumly replied. “Is it true that all the boys in our family have to dress like girls when they're my age?”

“It is.” his mother replied. “Cousin Michael did.” she said. “...and Uncle Wilfred too when he was a boy.” she added. 

“I don't like it.” he whined. “All the other boys will laugh at me.”

“Well you'll just have to keep away from them.” his mother advised.

“But they're my friends.” he sulked.

“Well if they're just going to laugh at you, they're not very good friends are they.” she said. 

David gulped and pondered her point. “But they'll only be laughing because I have to wear girl's clothes.”

“Only because they're jealous that your clothes are prettier than theirs.”

“But only girls like pretty clothes.” David claimed. “I'm a boy.”

“I know, and it's going to take you while to get used to your new clothes.” Valerie said. She crouched and ran her fingers over his square collar. “Uncle Wilfred soon got used to his dresses, and cousin Michael did too, eventually.” she told her son, before asking if he remembers his cousin Michael.

“I think so.” David replied. “Is he Mandy and Kirsten's brother?”

“Yes.” Valerie replied. “You'll have only been about five or six when he was petticoated.”

“How old is he now?”

“Almost sixteen.”

“Does he still have to wear dresses?”

“Of course. He may be nearly sixteen but he's still a boy.” she told her son. She knew just how contrary such a statement sounded... of course a sixteen year old  boy still has to wear dresses.  David reminded his mother that boys aren't supposed to wear dresses. “They are in our family David... as I'm sure Aunt Martha has explained to you.”

The boy skewed his jaw and dropped his eyes. He's been told umpteen times why he and all the other boys in their family have to be petticoated, but he'd spent the last few weeks hoping his mother would say something along the lines of when we get home, everything will go back to normal. But deep down David knew that there was little hope as he vaguely recalled what his mother said in the taxi, about things being very different when he does go home

They head indoors and join Aunt Martha in the lounge. “What a lovely surprise Auntie!” Valeria exclaimed. “I had no idea we'd be wearing matching dresses!” she said. 

Martha smiled proudly as she looked her niece and great nephew up and down. “Mother and son... just as they should be.” she said, before asking Valerie to sit. “Why don't you show Mummy your embroidery David.” Martha asked of the boy.

“OK Auntie.” the boy meekly replied, before turning toward the door. 

“Not the embroidery you're working on... the embroidery you've done.” Martha said. “The embroidery you're wearing.” she added. The boy's face dropped. His great aunt raised an eyebrow. “Go on... show Mummy.”

The boy began to blush as his trembling hands took hold of his skirt. He began to lift it and his rosy cheeks got redder and redder. “Oh my they're delightful!” Valerie gushed as he raised his dress high enough to reveal his knickers; green to match his dress, trimmed with frilly lace and embroidered just above the left leg is his name David. “Did you do that yourself?” Valerie knowingly asked.

The blushing boy nodded. “Answer properly David.” His aunt instructed. 

David gulped. “Yes Mummy.”

“Why don't you show Mummy your room.” Martha said. “Then we'll have afternoon tea.”

“Yes Auntie.”

Valerie followed the boy up the stairs and along the landing, right to the end. He stops and looks up at his mother solemnly. “This is my room.” he timidly told her.

“I can see.” she replied, smiling at the name plaque hanging from a nail on the door.

He opens the door to reveal exactly what his mother expected; an overtly girlie bedroom with floral wallpaper, pink curtains, a pink wrought iron day bed, ornate furniture including a beautiful dressing table and a large bookshelf which is home to fifteen or twenty large toy dolls. The floor is polished oak with a big pink rug in the centre. David's shoes clack loudly on the wooden floor until he steps on the rug which silences his feet. “This is very nice.” his mother says, knowing that her son is probably thinking the exact opposite. 

“It's a girl's room.” David mournfully replied as his mother removed one of the dolls from the shelf and admired it. “Auntie makes me play with those.” he grumbled.

“Playing nicely with dolls is better for you than playing with tanks and guns... all that teaches you is how to be angry and aggressive whereas playing with dolls helps you learn to be kind and considerate.”

“I am kind and considerate... and I much preferred my train set to tanks and guns.”

“I know you did David... bit this is how we do things now you're a petticoated boy, to make sure you continue to be the sweet kind boy that you are.” she said, gently stroking his cheek. “Lots of boys start to go off the rails when they're your age.” she said, naming a small handful of neighbourhood boys who keep getting into big trouble at school and sometimes with the police too. “If they were more like you they’d have carried on being good.” she smiled.

“I could carry on being good... I don't have to be a girl.”

“You're not a girl David, but you know why girls are better behaved than boys?” she asked. David skewed his chin and considered the question. “Because girls play nice games and wear nice clothes, just like you do now you've been petticoated.” she told him. “You may not understand at such a young age but this really is for the best.”

“It doesn't feel like it... and girls my age don't have to wear nappies for bed.” he said, sticking out his bottom lip as if to demonstrate his disapproval. 

“They're to make sure you get a good night's sleep every night.” his mother told him. “You'll soon get used to them.” she claimed.

“I won't.” he replied. 

“Cousin Michael wears nappies too. He's used to them and he's almost sixteen.” she informed him. “It's just going to take a little time, that's all.” she smiled.

“It's not fair. Only babies wear nappies.”

“You only wear them at bedtime.” his mother said. “When you're fast asleep.”

“If I'm naughty Nanny makes makes me wear them in the daytime too.”

“Well that's a good reason for you not to be naughty.” she replied. 

“It's not fair that I have to call you Mummy again as well.” David grumbled.

“I think it's lovely that you're calling me Mummy again... almost as lovely as seeing you wearing such pretty clothes.” his mother replied. “Have you many other dresses here?”

“They're in the wardrobe.” David frowned. 

“May I see?” she asked. Valerie opened the double wardrobe and her eyes melted into the colourful range of clothes, below which is some twenty pairs of girlie shoes all neatly arranged. On one side of the wardrobe is a series of shelves, some with folded bundles clothing. “What are these?” she quizzed, noticing what appeared to be baby clothes hanging from rails on two of the lower shelves.

“They're for the dolls.” David timidly told his mother as she removed one of the miniature frocks and admired it. 

“How lovely.”

“I feel silly when I have to play with them.” the boy sulked. “Girls my age don't play with dolls any more.”

“It's different for boys though... especially petticoated boys.” his mother replied as she put the little doll dress back.  “Sometimes you have to take two steps back before you can take one step forward.” his mother said. 

“That's what Nanny says... but I don't really know what she means.”

“When you were younger you were too busy playing rough and tumble with the boys.” his mother said. “...and too many boys games revolve around being aggressive. They teach you to fight and take reckless risks.” she told him. “Learning nice games like girls play teach you to be cautious and considerate.” she explained. “You missed out on playing with dolls when you were young which is why you have to learn to play with them now... and it's not just dolls. I'm sure you've learned other new games too.”

“I've learned to play hopscotch... and skipping.” David confessed. “And I can do cartwheels too.” he added. “...and Nanny's been teaching me some clapping games as well.”

“That's nice.” his mother smiled. “I wonder if I can still do cartwheels.” she mused.

The sound of footsteps from the landing drew both their attention. Their eyes turn toward the open bedroom door. Isabel, the housekeeper appeared. “Afternoon tea will be served in a few minutes.” she said. “Go and wash your hands David.”

“Yes Nanny.” David replied, before scurrying out. 

“David tells me you've been teaching him some clapping games.” Valerie said to Isabel. 

“I've been teaching him all sorts of new things.” Isabel replied as she straightened one of the dolls on the shelf. The very same doll that Valerie had removed. “He's certainly more adaptable than Michael was. It was months before he was allowed to return home.”

“David's a good boy. Always has been.” Valerie replied as she cast her eyes around the girlie bedroom. “I can't help but wonder if all this is really necessary.” she said.

“Oh it's necessary.” Isabel said. “The world would be a much better place if more boys were petticoated.” she claimed. 

Valerie followed the housekeeper downstairs to the dining room. Aunt Martha sat at the head of the table, which was laid with her best China tea set, a plate full of freshly baked scones along with some jam and whipped cream. “This looks very nice.” she said. Her aunt gestured to the seat beside her. Valerie sat. “David's been showing me all the dolls and dresses in his room.” she said. Her aunt smiled, briefly. “He also tells me he's learned to play hopscotch and skipping, and Isabel's been teaching him some clapping games.” she added. 

“Make sure he continues when he returns home.” Martha sternly instructed. 

“Of course auntie.” Valerie replied. She felt like she was a girl again, in the presence of a strict headmistress. “I think he's coming to terms with being petticoated.”

“The question is Valerie... are you?”

“I think so Auntie.” Valerie replied. “He looks lovely in a dress and I can't wait to see him wearing all the clothes you...”

“His clothes are superficial Valerie.” Martha said, cutting her short. “A mere distraction.” she stated. “He's not a doll for you to play with.”

“No auntie.” Valerie gulped, feeling every bit the naughty school girl now.

“The strict routine is the pivotal part of petticoating a boy. They need specific meal times, bath times and bed times. A specific time of day that they're permitted to play, read and indulge in their hobbies.”

“Yes Auntie.” Valerie replied.

“They also need to show the utmost respect to their elders and betters at all times and I can't help but notice that you're already being sloppy.”

“I'm sorry?” Valerie politely quizzed.

“He needs to address you as mummy every time he addresses you, not just some of the time but all of the time.” Martha stated. “He may not enjoy playing the games he's given to play but he needs to learn to keep his displeasure to himself. If he says he doesn't like something or feels something isn't fair, you mustn't indulge him. He has to learn to put up and shut up and if he can't, then you'll have to teach him a lesson by putting him back in daytime nappies so he can stew in his own juices. It's the only way they learn and I don't want Isabel's hard work being undone by your leniency. Do you understand?”

Valerie gulped. “Yes Auntie.” she said. 

“If I have to send a nanny I shall." Martha stated. "...and she'll be as much in charge of you as she is the boy.” Valerie's aunt warned.

“That won't be necessary Aunt Martha.” Valerie replied, although the level of strictness that her aunt is demanding, she's not sure she can deliver. 

At that moment, David appeared in the doorway with Isabel behind him. He wears a crisp white pinafore over his green gingham dress. “Take a seat next to your Aunt David.”

“Yes Nanny.” the boy timidly said. 

David took his seat and Martha asked to see his hands. After inspecting them front and back, she gave Isabel a nod and she proceeded to serve the tea. David sat bolt upright the whole time. He said please and thank you and always addressed either his aunt or nanny properly whenever they spoke to him. His table manners were impeccable but David appeared far from relaxed. Neither did his mother for that matter. David was given half a scone topped with jam and cream, but before tucking into it, he took his napkin in one hand and dabbed the corners of his mouth after every bite. “Are you enjoying your scone David?” his mother asked. 

“Yes thank you Mummy.” he politely replied. 

“Good.” Valerie said. “I hope your table manners are as good as this when we return home.” she said. 

“Yes Mummy.” he said. 

After eating, David was sent to wash his hands. Valerie began to clear the table. “Oh leave those... that's what Isabel's for.” Martha told her. David returned and Aunt Martha checked his hands. “Right.” said Martha, glancing at the time. “I suppose I'd best order you a taxi.”

Valerie's eyes turned toward the clock. It's 3.40pm. “Yes I suppose.” Valerie replied. “Are you looking forward to going home David?”

“Yes Mummy.” he obediently replied. His mother smiled, hoping that he wouldn't be too disappointed with what awaited him.

“Now it's a long journey David, so you'd best go and change.” Martha instructed.

The boy's face dropped. “Yes Auntie.” he mournfully replied. 

“And ask Nanny to gather your things.” Martha told him. “You can choose yourself a dolly to take home with you. Oh... and don't forget your door plaque. You'll need that for your bedroom door at home.” she added.

“Yes Auntie. Thank you.” David half-heartedly replied, before before turning and leaving.

Valerie was disappointed that they wouldn't be travelling home in their matching dresses, but already feeling like she was on thin ice, Valerie didn't question her aunt. Ten minutes passed and David returned, however Valerie was perplexed as he was still wearing his green gingham dress. “Let me see.” Aunt Martha said to the boy. Glumly, David lifted his dress but this time, he didn't reveal a pair of knickers but a nappy, hidden behind a pair of frilly white over-knickers and these too had his name embroidered on in an elegant italic font. “Good boy.” she said. 

“Where's your dolly?” Valerie asked him. 

“Nanny's got her, Mummy.”

“Which one did you choose?” his aunt asked.

“Florence, Auntie.” he shyly replied. 

“Lovely.” his aunt said. “The cab shouldn't be long.” she said, and she was right. No more than five minutes passed before the sound of a car horn could be heard. David and Valerie said their goodbye's to Aunt Martha whilst Isabel took a case over to the awaiting cab. “Well you'd best be off... and remember everything I told you Valerie.” Martha said. 

“Yes Auntie.” Valerie replied. “Come on David.” she said, holding out her hand. A huge grin swept her face as she walked him to the taxi cab. A perplexed driver watched them approach. David glumly looked up at his mother. She seems so happy and he knows that his days playing with dolls and wearing dresses are far from over.