My Surrogate Sister Scene 50

With his legs clad in thin black tights and wearing a fitted mid-thigh length skirt, Vincent doesn’t look girlie but does look feminine… which I guess is better. “It’s better than this.” I replied, glancing down at my prissy blouse. Vincent told me that he likes my skirt and my shoes, but agreed that my blouse is a bit too frilly. “And a bit too see through.” I added.
“It’s only for one day though.” my brother reminded me.
“I know.” I replied. “How you coped at school everyday I’ll never know.” I added as I stared at my drying fingernails.
“No one at Malham cares if you’re dressed as a girl or a boy…” Vincent told me, “…so you don’t have to worry about what they think. Just be yourself and tell yourself that its normal and you’ll be fine.” he advised.
“Yeah but that’s easy for you to say.” I claimed. “You’ve stepped out of the front door loads of times dressed like a girl… I’ve never done it before.” I gulped.
“Yeah I suppose.” Vincent said. “When Mother decided that I should become Sonia, she packed up all of my boy clothes in bin bags… apart from the ones I was wearing.”
“Yeah I remember.” I said, guiltily recalling how Gregory and I laughed and called him names.
“Then she drove me to a charity shop, bought me a dress, made me try it on and that was it… no more boy clothes.” he told me. “My first public outing was slap bang in the middle of Covenworth shopping precinct two minutes after I’d worn my first dress.” he said. I knew what he was driving at. “I’d have much preferred it if Mother eased me in a bit… first get used to wearing dresses… indoors, then get used to wearing knickers… indoors… then maybe take me outside after a few months.” he pondered. “Or years.” he added, looking me in the eye.
“Yeah I guess you’re right. At least I’m only going to Malham Hall and not being paraded through town.” I said.
Vincent nodded and smiled and glanced at my hands. All this time I’d kept them flat on the table. “I think they’ll be dry by now.” he said.
I picked up my hands and curled my fingers and admired my shiny pink nails. “It must be weird wearing this stuff everyday.” I said. “Like proper girls do.”
“They only wear it to hide all the muck under their nails.” Vincent replied as he admired his own nail varnish; being a pale nutty brown colour. When I’ve noticed him wearing it in the past it’s always been pink in one form or another. I mention this to him. “Mother said this is a grown up colour.”
“What are you two talking about?” Mother asked as she appeared at the foot of the stairs.
“Nail varnish.” Vincent replied.
“Oh that’s nice.” she smiled. “Do I look OK?” she asked.
We both said yes. Mother wore a peach shift dress with a matching fitted jacket. In one hand she holds a peach handbag and in the other a peach hat. On her feet is a pair of peach court shoes and her lipstick? You guessed it… peachy!