“I only meant your coat love.” She smiled. “Now come on, I want to get used to seeing you in our new uniform whilst I make supper.”
Michael timidly followed his mother to the kitchen. His new shorts felt very odd as they barely came into contact with his legs as he walked, and the clumpy little heels of his new shoes clicked noisily on the hardwood floor. He went to sit down but his mother said, “With those kinds of shorts you really have to smooth them beneath you when you sit down. I don’t want to iron them every night.”
Over the next few weeks, his mother took great pleasure in telling any visitor to their home that Michael would soon be attending Ashford Academy, and often showed off the photos she’d taken of him in his uniform.
