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James looked at himself in the mirror in the outfitters. How on earth had it come to this? How on earth had he allowed himself to be led down this path by a group of crazy women from his office? He stood there inside Wildings, the traditional outfitters in Swansea that seemed, in his opinion, to only stock clothes from the 1960’s. No one with any street cred like him would go in there, he reasoned.

There he was, on a Saturday afternoon, dressed in short trousers, knee length socks, and a school uniform, wearing a blue full length belted gaberdine mackintosh. He shook his head to himself, as he attempted to reconcile the events of the last 24 hours.

“Come along! Turn around! Chin up!” he heard, as he was shaken from his reverie.

He turned around and saw them standing there. All buttoned up in their trenchcoats. All standing there with severe expressions. All clucking around him, adjusting his clothing. Brenda, Beverley and Claire. The Three Sisters of Doom. The three women from the Bank where he worked, who were in the process of changing his life. Well that’s certainly how it felt to him, and how he felt about them.

“Chin up while I fasten the top button James!” he heard Claire say. Just a few years older than him, and yet here he was being dressed by her as if he was a toddler. Dressed in a childish, old fashioned raincoat, the sort kids in the 60’s wore, he reasoned. Not 18 year olds in 1986. “That’s better, now that’s how I want to see you wearing it in future, is that clear?

“Now he may need a nylon cagoule for milder months too, what do you think Beverley” asked Brenda, the senior clerk in the Bank. “What about this one?” she pointed towards a Peter Storm jacket, waist length, with a zip and a hood.

“No I think he needs something far more formal, and in a longer length also, Brenda. One to be slotted over his gabardine, and one to be worn on its own in the spring or summer. Something like this” she replied, holding up a long, traditional navy blue nylon pakamac.

All three women agreed it was far more suitable for James; he had other ideas, however.

“No way am I wearing that, are you all mad? I’ll look stupid!” he blustered

The 3 ladies had short shrift for his outburst

“Nonsense!”

“Even more stupid than you look already?!”

“Come along. Put it on now!”

As he reeled from this latest indignity, he saw Claire remove the mackintosh from the hanger, unfasten the buttons, and shake it out. “Arms out!”

“Oh do I have to?! No, I won’t!”

“Right you’ve had your warning young man, come here” ordered Brenda. And with that she pulled him by the ear into the changing room and proceeded to bend him over her somewhat ample lap to prepare him for a smacked bottom that he wouldn’t forget in a hurry. “I’ve had it up to here with you in this last week, well you’re going to get a lesson in good manners here and now”

He was no match for her superior strength, as she lowered his elasticated short trousers and underpants, revealing his bottom to her. With no delay, and with relatively little resistance, she started to swat his bottom with her hand, tapping out a high tempo of smacks. Before too long, he was a blubbering mess.

“Now, let’s try that again, shall we? Let’s try that nylon pakamac on please!” she advised him, as she got up.

As he pulled his shorts back up, he felt his shoulders being turned towards the shop. There stood Claire, once again ready for him to try on the mac, but this time with a steely determination in her eyes.

“Now let’s try this again, shall we? Arms out this instant”

He reluctantly held out his arms, and felt them being slotted into the sleeves by Beverley behind him. Claire then folded over the collar, and fastened the top button, and paused to smooth out the creases, and to check for the mackintosh’s length. All the while she offered a running commentary….

“Keep still”

“Good boy”

“Chin up”

“First the top button”

“Now the next one”

“How smart”

“That’ll keep you nice and dry”

At this point, Brenda declared herself satisfied with his new pakamac, and told him he could keep it on for the walk back to the bus stop, along with the gabardine mackintosh under it.

“But everyone will laugh at me!”

“Oh nonsense, don’t be a silly billy”

And that was the end of that. Less than 30 minutes ago he was dressed as a fashionable teenager from the 80’s; now here he was as a traditional young boy of 6 might have been many moons ago. But this was what James was now expected to wear each and every day.

Brenda settled up with the shop assistant who was delighted to see that the rude young man had been taken down a peg or two. She packed the spare pakamac in a bag and asked if the ladies wanted to bag up his old clothes.

"No that won't be necessary. Maybe you can find a home for them via a local charity?"

James was crestfallen, and was pulled by Brenda and the other ladies to the front door. He offered mild resistance but a glare from Brenda was more than enough. She noticed that the heavens had opened and turned towards James.

“Let’s get the gaberdine’s hood up, shall we?!” and without ado she roughly pulled up the hood, and tigh8tened the cords and tied them up under his chin, and made sure his top buttons were fastened tightly. “Let’s see if we can catch the 5pm bus home, shall we? We’ll be home just as your Mummy gets home. She’s very keen to see your new outfit”

And with that she grabbed his hand and led him out onto to the Kingsway. He glanced anxiously to make sure that there was no one around he recognised but the walk to the bus station required them to walk through the Quadrant Shopping Centre. It was as they approached the Quadrant that he noticed a group of his friends ahead. Hopefully we’ll turn right before we get to them, he thought to himself optimistically. Only time would tell.

One Week Earlier – Saturday afternoon

James had recently turned 18 and had “matured” into something of a jack-the-lad, falling into a raucous group of friends that his mother deeply disapproved of. He’d left school at 16 once his mother and father divorced, and, taking on the self-appointed mantle of man of the house, landed a job with a national Bank. He’d since made good progress: pay rises followed by driving lessons followed by a shiny Ford Fiesta XR2. However, that success gave him the opportunities to enjoy the good things in life. One late night would morph into another, one girlfriend into another.

There were signs that his celebration of the good life was affecting his work however. His mother’s best friend Brenda was a senior clerk at the same bank, and had recently shared her concerns around his bad timekeeping, and his bad attitude. She urged his mother, Clara, to take action.

“James is really getting a terrible reputation in the Bank, Clara” she mentioned over a cup of coffee one morning. “It’s all people are talking about. If he’s not careful, he’ll be up before the Branch Manager on a disciplinary at this rate”.

“Yes I know. I tried to broach the subject with him the other week, and he was completely dismissive about it. I tried my best but he ended up being quite rude about it” his mother replied.

“Oh dear. It’s a shame he wasn’t my boy. He’d be over my lap even though he’s 18” replied Brenda ominously.

“Well you know I’ve never been as strict with my kids as you were with yours, Brenda. In any case he towers over me. I couldn’t possibly manage it any more!”. She exaggerated for effect, but her son was now taller than she was, even though he was just 5ft 5 inches tall.

“Well he certainly doesn’t tower over me Clara!”

Brenda was a most imposing figure, standing 5ft 10 inches tall. Even though she was now in her mid 50’s, she had a perfect hourglass figure, and had a reputation in the Bank as an old fashioned disciplinarian. If work wasn’t produced on time and to a high standard, she would call the offender to her office and loom over them menacingly, with her hands on her hips, demanding to know what had, or hadn’t happened. James had found himself in her office on more than once occasion recently under such circumstances, and she’d come to the conclusion that he was starting to trade on her relationship with his mother, and expected preferential treatment.

“You’re too soft on him Clara! I know it’s been difficult since Geoff left you, but he needs bringing back into line soon. It could be too late if we carry on letting him get away with it. What will you do if he gets dismissed? I know you rely on him financially”

“Yes Brenda, you’re right…….I couldn’t possibly make ends meet if he were sacked…… Were you serious when you mentioned about smacking him earlier?”

“Oh yes. Absolutely. It’s the only thing that’ll get through to him”

“Well if you insist…… but maybe we’ll see how he behaves this week first?”

“I’m not sure we have the luxury of time Clara. Listen I’ve got an idea…..”


Monday morning

James turned into work the following Monday oblivious to the plans that his mother had hatched with Brenda. He was still feeling the after-effects of the weekend, where he’d partied on Friday and Saturday night, and also the previous afternoon. His mind certainly wasn’t on his work, it was more focussed on keeping his breakfast down.

“James Clarke – you’re late. AGAIN!” he heard a voice boom from behind him. He knew instinctively who it belonged to.

“Oh come on Brenda, it’s just a few minutes” he replied without turning to face her

“Firstly, it’s Mrs Denby to you, and secondly this is the 3rd time in the last week you’ve not been at your desk on time. I’m losing patience with you, and at this rate I’ll be sending you up to see Mr Rowland for a disciplinary” she replied, looming over him as best she could, hand on hips, shoulders back, bust out. “And smarten yourself up, you’re a mess”

“What do you mean, a mess?” he replied.

“Do you need me to point it out to you?!” she barked back.

“Whatever, Brenda!”

Before he knew it, she’d grabbed him by the wrist and was pulling him into her office roughly.

“What the f…….”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence” she replied, and as she did so, she slapped his bottom instinctively. “In you go!”

He made to sit down in the chair in front of her desk, but she pulled him up by the ear.

“No you don’t, stand up with your hands by your side! Now if you can’t see how scruffy you are then you obviously need some help”. And with that, she fastened his top button, pulled up his tie, and, much to his horror, produced a comb to smarten up his hair.

“Ow stop it! I’m old enough to do that myself”

“Nonsense, keep still before I really lose my rag with you. That’s better” she said as she made the final adjustments to his hair. “Now because of your attitude and behaviour I’m sending you to the sub branch with Beverley and Claire for the week. That should get you working hard and knock some sense into you”

“Oh no…. it’s so boring there, and they’re both so old fashioned”

Brenda smiled within herself at this point. He had a point. Beverley was in her mid 40’s, Claire was 24, but there the differences ended. Claire had been taught all that she knew by Beverley – hard work, politeness to our customers, and an emphasis on smart clothing. Their age difference apart, they were virtually indistinguishable, both adopting a dress code that consisted of a smart blouse buttoned to the neck, knee length skirt, tan tights and smart leather shoes. And all topped off with a beige trenchcoat, buttoned to the neck, also.

“Nonsense, it’ll do you the world of good. I’ve discussed it with your mother already, so she knows you’ll be home later than usual. Consider this a week-long probation. If you don’t start behaving properly, there’ll be trouble ahead for you, that’s all I’m going to say for now”
He wondered what she meant with this final comment, but thought nothing more about it, as he made his way to the sub-branch a short walk away along St Helens Road.

As he exited her office, Brenda was already phoning Clara to tell her that the plan was now in progress


Friday lunchtime
As the week progressed, James was subjected to the tried and tested routines that Beverley (in particular) and more recently Claire, had put in place. There was no room for debate, and on more than one occasion Beverley had to address his shortcomings.

His attempts to find an ally in Claire came to an abrupt halt. James thought she was very attractive, and found her intriguing, he simply couldn’t understand why she didn’t make more of herself. He occasionally raised the topic of them going out for a drink, but was met with a firm response – “Get on with your work please, James!” or something similar. It didn’t put him off, and his advances became increasingly risqué as the week progressed.

Eventually he pushed his luck too far and was threatened with being reported to Brenda for harassment. Claire patiently told him he should concentrate on his work if he didn’t want to get into trouble.

“Oh for fuck sake, lighten up. Why are you so buttoned up? Dressing like a 50 year old – what’s that all about? Come on, come with me to Harper’s on Saturday, and maybe later I can show you a good time?”

“I beg your pardon?! What was that you said?” a voice sounded from behind him. Beverley had, unknown to him, observed the whole episode – the harassment, the bad language, the laziness.

“Oh god, I was just asking her out, there’s no law against it” he replied defiantly.

“I know exactly what went on here, and I know exactly what’s been going on all week. You’ve done nothing other than pressure this poor girl to go out with you. As if she’d be seen dead with a wastrel like you! Well you’ve just earned yourself a meeting with Mrs Denby as soon as we’ve finished here.”

And within the hour, the 3 of them were stood in Brenda’s office. Well, to be precise, the 3 ladies were seated, and James was made to stand.

“Well it seems that you’ve failed to take advantage of the opportunities avaliable in working with these 2 wonderful ladies. Now I want to know exactly what’s been going on”

To James’ horror, Beverley and Claire both set out every detail of his verbal harassment, his laziness, his bad language, and his general sense of no good. They both said that they’d be willing to sign a statement of complaint, allowing Brenda to take a case to Mr Rowland the branch manager. He could see his future flashing before his eyes; Rowly wasn’t one to take any prisoners.

“On the other hand, there is another way…….” Brenda suggested intriguingly.

“What do you mean?” James asked, hoping for any opportunity to avoid Mr Rowland’s judgment.

Over the next 5 minutes, Brenda captivated him with a list of changes that would undoubtedly transform him life as he knew it:-

1) Sell the XR2 to release money to his mum to manage the household budget better
2) No more late nights or alcohol
3) New clothing for work (his work attire was borderline acceptable at best) and at home (complete change in his dress code)
4) Replace the 1980’s haircut he cherished with a simple short, back and sides
5) Bed time no later than 9pm, 9.30 at weekends
6) Brenda would escort him to work each day, and return him home each evening, to improve his punctuality
7) Brenda to be allowed to administer corporal punishment in the event of bad behaviour
8) Beverley and Claire to provide performance updates to Brenda on a daily basis

He pushed his luck, and called her bluff at this point

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. As if you can make me follow all these rules. It’s just hot air. Come on Brenda, cut me some slack here?”

Without delay, she pulled him over her lap and whacked his bottom with her hand repeatedly. Each volley of smacks punctuated by a scolding that anyone passing the corridor outside would have heard.

“You – SMACK – naughty – SMACK – little – SMACK – boy – SMACK – who –SMACK – do – SMACK – you – SMACK – think – SMACK – you – SMACK – are – SMACK?”

Once done, he was sent to the corner, ordered to place his hands on his head, and made to listen to the dossier that Brenda had been keeping on him, detailing all of his failings, and what the consequences were likely to be.

At this point, James knew that he had little option other than to accept Brenda’s “very kind offer”

TO BE CONTINUED

This is pretty much my first effort at a story. I've had the idea in the back of my kind for some time but never set aside the time to develop it. I appreciate that it may not be to everyone's taste but hopefully it'll find pockets of enjoyment also.

Some of the elements actually happened to me but much is fictional. I'll leave you to work out which!

Rives

Interesting first installment
I would guess you lived in Swansea & worked at a bank in the mid 8-'s when 18yo

You'd guess right

Rives wrote:You'd guess right

And after reading your comments on a thread was forced by your mother to wear nylon pak a macs
Also lady in the shop bears a resemblance to Brenda

Yes all of that is true also. Just some poetic licence introduced along the way. Hope you like it.

“So, unless you do as you’re told, a complaint of sexual harassment will be presented to Mr Rowland first thing Monday morning. In my view, you’ll have no chance of surviving. Claire’s statement will be categorically supported by Beverley, so you won’t be able to use the defence of your word against hers” Brenda continued.

All the while, James stood in the corner, his hands on his head, as ordered. His bottom burned brightly. He made to give it a protective rub, but a slap from Brenda, who stood beside him, and a scolding, put paid to that.

“Stop that this instant. Hands on head please! Now you have a simple choice. Do as you’re told and follow these rules, or accept the consequences of Claire submitting a complaint against you”

“But those rules ……. They’re so unfair….. They’re for kids…And no way am I getting my hair cut”

“All or nothing, young man!........ Well?....I’m waiting!”

“Erm….. its not fair…… too old for this…… oh god…” he rambled.

Eventually he offered reluctant agreement, hoping that he could work his usual charms to reduce the impact of the new rules. In any case, he expected to persuade his mother that evening, before he went out with his pals as usual. No way was he going to be treated as a kid, he mused complacently.

“Now then… Mummy and I have agreed that you need taking down a peg or two, so we’ll get ready shortly, to go out shopping to look at the options to refresh your wardrobe. I’ve made arrangements for you to have the afternoon off with me”

“What have you been saying to her? She’s got nothing to do with this. I’m over 18, I can do what I want!”

“Silence! Legally she can’t do anything, this is about you agreeing to her rules, or accepting the risk of losing your job next week!” Brenda replied.

He mumbled to no one in particular, overlooking the fact that he was stood in the corner in disgrace with his hands on his head.

“May we come with you Brenda? I think Claire and I may have some ideas to put into the mix? We’re fully up to date, so if you agree, we could both take the afternoon off too” Beverley suggested, helpfully, with a wink aimed in Claire’s direction.

“Yes, I’d very much like to come too, if I may?” replied Claire with relish.

“Of course, the more the merrier. We’ll need to get some ideas so I can speak to James’ Mummy later this evening. I was then thinking of bringing him back into town tomorrow while his Mummy is in work to make the final purchases.

“Great, let’s all get ready then!”

“We’ll need our raincoats” said Brenda, with one eye out of her office window. “Looks like the rain has come!”

“Luckily we’ve all come prepared” replied Beverley, with a chuckle.

The 3 women reconvened in Brenda’s office, along with their bags and coats. All 3 slowly buttoned up their trenchcoats up to the neck, followed by the collar hooks, and gun patch. There was no time amongst this group for the fashion of the era to wear trenchcoats loose or with the belt loosely tied up. Brenda and Beverley produced a headscarf each and fastened them tightly under the chin, whereas Claire produced a matching rain hat to complement her trenchcoat.

“Right, out of the corner, and go and fetch your coat” Brenda ordered James.

“I didn’t bring one” replied James nonchalantly, momentarily reverting to type.

The women tutted among themselves at this. “What do you mean you haven’t got one? Don’t you have a jacket or an anorak?”

“Nah! I park the car round the corner every morning. No need for a coat or a jacket!”

“Well you can’t come out with us like that James. Let me think….”

“Oh it’s ok, you go out shopping without me, I’ll stay here”

“Nonsense…. You’ll come out with us one way or another. I know….. I wonder if that’ll work?…..”

She turned around to explore a cupboard behind her desk, rummaging around inside.

“Yes, that’ll do!” Brenda exclaimed delightedly. She turned around to face the room, brandishing a brown material in her hand. She unfurled it with a shake, to form a nylon mackintosh.

“You don’t expect me to wear this do you?” said James, pointing at the mac that Brenda held up for all to see.

“Of course you will. I’m not having you get wet. Ladies, if you wouldn’t mind giving me a hand please? Turn him around, that’s it” as Beverley and Claire each grabbed him by the arm. “Arms out please! That’s it! Now let’s fasten that top button”

Before too long, James had been buttoned up in Brenda’s old nylon pakamac. It was too long for him, coming down to his calves, and the sleeves coming well below his hands. It fitted his chest and shoulders however, and in Brenda’s opinion, would be fine for now, until a more permanent arrangement was put in place, as she roughly rolled up his sleeves, and smoothed out the creases.

Claire had a wry grin on her face; this was payback on a grand scale.

“I cant go out like this, everyone will laugh at me” he pleaded desperately.

“You can and you will, young man. Come along!”

Brenda held out her hand, in the expectation that he’d hold onto it willingly. When he hesitated, she grabbed his hand forcefully, much to his horror.

“Let me go! Let me out of this coat! No, please….!” He replied as Brenda pulled him behind her as she approached the door to the banking hall, where James would be revealed to his colleagues and others.

The ladies were determined to press ahead with their plan. They were now on their way to a trip to the shops that James wouldn’t forget in a hurry.

The door to the banking hall was opened. It was Friday lunchtime, the busiest day of the week, when hundreds of customers would be in to cash in their wages for the weekend ahead. A number of banks had installed cash machines, but customers still felt the need to call into the bank each Friday for that personal touch.

James was led by Brenda, and followed by Beverley and Claire. Suddenly, he was approached by a customer who recognised him. Susan had been at school with him, just a year older than him, and James had been keen to impress her over drinks at Harpers, the local nightclub, on more than one occasion recently. She was attractive, athletic and sporty, and her clothes were perfectly fashionable. Her hair was also permed and highlighted in a way that a new artist from the US, Madonna, was prone to do with hers.

James kept his head down, to avoid eye contact and attention, but it was no good; Susan had spotted him a mile away, also recognising Claire as the older sister of one of her friends.

“Err….hello….is that ….Jimmy? What’s going on? And hi Claire”

“Erm….nothing…. what’s up? You going out over the weekend?”

“Erm…yes, of course….are you?”

Before he had a chance to respond, Brenda waded into the conversation.

“James wont be coming out this weekend, I’m sorry. He’s been a naughty boy, and so he’ll be tucked up by his Mummy in bed early, from this weekend onwards.”

“Oh….right” she replied, her curious smile starting to unwind into a laugh. “Maybe next weekend instead then Jimmy?”

“No I’m afraid his bedtime is now set at 9.30 at weekends. He’s been a VERY naughty boy I’m afraid” Brenda interrupted again, with Claire starting to enjoy the amusement of the conversation.

“So, why is he dressed like this?” asked Susan, pointing to his brown pakamac.

“It’s not mine, Susan. I’m just lending it” James replied

“Borrowing James! Not Lending!” barked Brenda, before he could reply further. “The silly boy left his coat at home, so James has just been buttoned up in my old pakamac. He’s coming with us to have a look at some new clothing for him. We’ll probably go to Wildings, Calders or Dunn’s and see if we can replace some of his more flashy items”

“Oh my god it looks hideous. No way would you find me wearing one of those, Jimmy!”

These three outfitters were widely regarded as old fashioned by most youngsters James or Susan’s age. The horror of being taken there was suddenly dawning on him, much to Susan and Claire’s amusement.

“That’s where all the smart boys get taken for their new clothes, isn’t it James” offered Claire mischievously.

This was simply too much for Susan, who burst into uncontrolled laughter. “Wait until I tell my friends. That’s priceless, seeing you in an old pakamac. Haha”

“Please don’t Susan. This is just for now. I’ll be back in my old jackets and anoraks next time!” he offered, helplessly.

“Oh I wouldn’t be too sure about that young man. It looks very smart on you, and its given me some ideas for your new wardrobe later” replied Brenda, more than ominously, as she made to smooth out an invisible crease in his pakamac, and adjusted his collar. She’d made a note of the fact that being dressed in her old pakamac had curtailed the worst excesses of his personality. A more docile and compliant character had emerged.

“Oh my god Jimmy, sounds like you’ve got no choice. You’re going to be buttoned up in a pakamac for a while to come. Hahaha!” teased Susan.

“Right, I’d better let you go, I’ve got to go out shopping myself to get a nice new dress for tonight. Doesn’t sound like you’ll be there. Sounds like you’ll be in beddybies!”

“Come along James. Handy Pandies!” ordered Brenda, as she held out her hand expectantly. His spirit was completely crushed as Claire took his other hand, and Brenda the other, as they walked towards the front entrance door.

“So can’t we go to Fosters or Principles or Burtons? They’ve got loads of nice clothes there Brenda?” offered James.

“No they haven’t! They’re vulgar and brash. And from now on let’s make it Aunty Brenda, shall we?”

“You can be serious? Aunty?!”

“Yes, Aunty! And while we’re at it, it’ll be Aunt Beverley and Aunt Claire too please!!”

“What the fuck….. Claire… but she’s only a few years older than me!”

Before he knew what was happening, Brenda was pulling him towards her, lifting up his mackintosh, and exposiung his legs to her bare hand. Holding his left wrist in her left hand, she proceeded to administer over a dozen slaps to his bottom and legs, while he writhed around in pain and embarrassment.

“How dare you use such language, you naughty little boy – SLAP – SLAP- SLAP-SLAP”

In that moment, Susan walked around the corner on her way to the shops, and took in the hilarious scene in front of her. By the time she got closer, the smacks were over, but James stood there completely humiliated.

“Looks like you’ve got your hands full there!” she remarked casually.

“Oh don’t worry, I’ve got his measure” replied Brenda confidently. “Nice to see you again, hopefully see you again soon”

“Yes no problem. Byeee” replied Susan.

“Come along; let’s make a move young man.

James was snatched from the embarrassment of having Susan seeing his humiliation in the streets of the city centre in broad daylight. He saw her walking into the distance. No longer would he be able to look at her in the eye - probably not over a coffee with friends, and most definitely not over a few drinks at the local nightclub. How on earth had he found himself in this situation, dressed in an old fashioned woman's raincoat, being marched to the outfitters by his 3 "aunties"? And more to the point, volunteering to do so?

"Come along. I shan't ask you again" ordered Brenda, now warming to her role, as she lowered his pakamac back to its original position, having just a monent earlier been lifted to allow Brenda a clean shot at the back of his legs, albeit protected as they were by his trousers.

While slapping his legs, Brenda had wondered how much easier - no, not easier, but more effective  - her slaps might have been had her hand been meeting the bare skin of the back of his legs, while he was wearing short trousers. Hmmm, she thought, something to think about if the plan to bring his behaviour under control, was to be succeasful.

And with that she grabbed him by the wrists and re-started the march to the outfitters. First stop however, was to the nearest barber shop for a short, back and sides. No more was the flicked fringe and highlights that he previously possessed. To say he was unhappy with the arrangement was an under statement. And when Brenda instructed the barber to cut his fringe horizontally, just as one would with a choirboy, he threatened to get up. But a fearsome glance from Brenda, and a threat to slap hs legs once again, and that was enough to see an end to the mini revolution.

Next stop was Dunn's where they were re-united with Beverley and Claire, who'd been sent ahead to make advance enquiries, following which James was fitted for a new work suit, cut in the traditional style, with none of the pinstripes, pleated trousers, or double breasted features favoured by James previously. Plain. Dark blue. Single breasted. Slightly flared trousers. New plain work shirts were purchased too to replace some of the jazzier shirts that James had purchased recently.

The last stop was to Wildings on the Kingsway, where generations of children had been "kitted out". This is where parents wishing their children to be dressed traditionally were brought. This was not where trend-setting 18 year olds were brought however. And as James and his "aunts" walked into the shop foyer to be welcomed by the senior shop assistant, he feared that it would be a long afternoon, and an intensely unpleasant experience, at that.