Chapter 6. Madame Bresson
Monday dawned a chilly late April day. Paul shivered as he made his way to school, not entirely because of the cold. He had been given no instructions about Autumn’s panties, so he had secreted them at the bottom of his rucksack along with his new ones. He felt they were safest there where he could keep an eye on them. He was distracted all through lessons, thinking about the evening. The ballet class started half an hour after lessons ended, to allow the children to have a snack. Marcia sought him out at lunchtime and whispered in his ear to warn him he would be expected to turn up fifteen minutes early to register.
“What’s the deal with her?” asked Mikey, as she ran off. “You got somefink going there? You wanna be careful. She’s trouble. She punched my mate the uvver day just for makin’ an ‘armless joke. Gave ‘im a nose-bleed.”
“No, I ain’t got nuffin going on,” said Paul, trying to sound streetwise but failing dismally, “she sometimes delivers messages to me from Nathan.”
Mikey stared and him and said nothing. He clearly didn’t believe a word of it.
There was no way he was going to allow himself to be seen going towards the gym after school. So he left through the main gates with everyone else, and walked slowly down the street, checking his watch. Nathan caught up with him.
“Paul. What are you doing tonight? Want to come round for a bit?”
“Sorry, Nathan. I have to do some stuff for my mum first. In fact, I’ve just realised I’m going in the wrong direction. Maybe later?”
“Sure. I’ll be in all the evening.”
Paul did a sudden u-turn and headed back towards school. Nathan looked after him, puzzled. He put his head down and dashed back through the gates. He saw Mikey and Josh staring at him.
“Forgot something!” he shouted, by way of explanation, and kept on running. He made the gym just in time. The girls were waiting for him, each carrying a drawstring bag.
“Come on, Madame Bresson’s waiting,” said Rosalind. She held the door open for him.
He had been imagining Madame Bresson as a rather severe, impatient, middle-aged woman, with greying hair. But as they walked to the end of the gym, all he could see was a young, rather pretty, extremely lithe woman in a black leotard and white tights, with her black hair drawn back in a bun and pinned neatly on the top of her head.
“Good evening, Madame,” said Rosalind respectfully, “we’ve brought you a new recruit. This is Paul. Paul, Madame Bresson.”
“P-Pleased to meet you,” stammered Paul.
“And you, Paul. I’m so glad to see you. Ralphie will be pleased to have a boy friend” – she separated the words carefully – “at last.” She spoke immaculate English with only a hint of a French accent. “Could I ask you to complete one of these forms? Just your name and address and your next of kin and a contact phone number. Thank you.”
Paul filled up the form, with his mother’s name and phone number. He was going to have to tell her about this, too, he realised. Then she’d be telling all her friends, no doubt.
By the time he’d finished, the girls had gone to change, and others were filtering in, all wearing pink leotards and white tights. Then in came a little dark-eyed boy his own age. He wore the same costume, but his leotard was yellow. Paul stared at him, and he stared back.
“Ralphie, come and meet Paul. He’s joining us today. Paul, this is Ralphie. He’s only been with us since Christmas, but he’s made great progress.”
“Yes. My mum bought me a ballet costume for Christmas,” said Ralphie with a faint note of indignation in his voice. “Is that what’s happened to you?”
“Not really. Pleased to meet you anyway.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” said Ralphie. “I hope you stay.”
“Now, Paul,” continued Madame Bresson, “we need to find you something to wear. I normally put my boys in yellow, but I’m not sure I’ve got anything in your size at the moment.”
“Don’t worry, Madame,” cried Rosalind, bursting back into the gym, “we’ve brought Paul a costume just for today. It’s pink, but he doesn’t mind. He’s already tried it on, and it fits perfectly! Well, almost.” She handed it to Paul.
“Oh, that’s very helpful of you. If you’d like to go and change, Paul, I can introduce you to everyone and we can make a start.”
“I’d advise you to put your yellow panties on underneath, too,” whispered Rosalind, “for the sake of propriety!” She giggled.
Paul emerged from the changing room to the satisfied grins of his friends and the stares of the other three girls. Madame Bresson introduced him. The other three were called Nina, Gabrielle and Valeria. He thought they looked at him suspiciously, as if to say, “What do you want? Isn’t one boy enough?” But maybe he imagined it.
Madame Bresson explained to Paul how the lessons were arranged.
“We have only an hour or so each week, depending on who wants to use the gym after us. Sometimes we have a little longer. We spend the first forty-five minutes of every lesson doing exercises, and the first fifteen minutes of that time warming up. Ballet is a very strenuous and physically demanding discipline, and if you don’t warm up properly you can get injured. So please, never neglect those first fifteen minutes. The final period is devoted to dance practice. Our aim is to develop an exhibition piece over the course of each school term, and produce a performance for the whole school at the end.”
Paul felt the colour drain from his face at this piece of intelligence. Marcia, Rosalind and Tabitha noticed his apparent distress, and smiled at him sweetly in concert.
“Last term, Paul, we danced a couple of extracts from ‘Swan Lake’, which was very successful. We were fortunate enough to be allowed to borrow costumes from our supplier, and everyone looked very pretty. We only wear full costume, with skirts, for performances. All the practice is done in leotards.”
“Madame,” piped up Rosalind, “perhaps you should show him a picture so he can see what amazing things we get to wear.”
“Yes, Rosalind, that’s a good idea. Let me see… Ah, here’s one of Ralphie. That was a beautiful costume!”
She held out her phone for Paul to see. It was Ralphie all right, in a yellow bodice with white tutu and tights, and a flower pinned in his hair, and not looking particularly happy.
“Oh, yes,” he murmured, “that’s very… nice.”
“Isn’t it? Performances are so exciting. I hope you’ll be good enough to take part by the end of this term.”
Not if I can help it, thought Paul, imagining the reactions of his friends.
They began the warm-up, which consisted of gentle stretching of the limbs and flexing of the body. The gym was equipped with a bar along the far wall, and they stood in line, usually holding onto it with one hand. Madame Bresson stood facing them, showing them what to do, and performing all the exercises herself with a degree of grace and control that considerably impressed Paul. As for Paul himself, he found even the warm-up exhausting, and the exercises which followed left him sweating and breathless. He realised he was nowhere near as fit as he thought, nor did he have particularly good balance, having almost toppled over a couple of times during the programme. The others seemed to be able to execute the moves with ease. Madame Bresson reassured him.
“Paul. Don’t push yourself too hard at this stage. You’re not expected to be able to keep up with the others yet. But if you practise hard, you’ll soon be as anyone. No everyone take a rest for five minutes, and then we’ll demonstrate our dancing for Paul.”
Paul noticed that the three girls he had been introduced to were whispering amongst themselves, with their heads close together, and looking over at him with malicious smiles. When Madame Bresson’s back was turned, the girl called Gabrielle sneaked over to him, and whispered in a spiteful tone, “Your panties are showing, pansy Paul.” Then she gave him a hard pinch on the inside of his thigh, which made him gasp with pain, and quickly retreated to where her friends were seated. Looking down, Paul realised that in his hurry to get changed, he had put Autumn’s panties on over his tights by mistake. The exercises had made Rosalind’s skimpy leotard slide up his flanks, so that now two crescents of yellow satin, decorated with red bows, were exposed on either side. Desperately he tried to pull down the legs of his leotard, but they immediately slid up again. True to form, Paul’s face immediately coloured up with embarrassment. The three little rogues opposite him were now convulsed with laughter, covering their mouths in an attempt to suppress their giggles. But one of them was unable to contain a loud snort, which alerted Madame Bresson.
“What’s going on over there? Please behave yourselves, girls, and wait quietly while I attend to Ralphie.”
Paul looked over at Marcia and her friends for support, but it seemed they were as amused as the others. He looked at the floor in mute despair, ears burning. Why were girls such little bitches?
The lesson resumed with all the children except Paul giving an exhibition of dancing. He had to admit they were quite accomplished. Even Ralphie was pretty good, though of all of them he seemed to be enjoying it the least. Paul inferred that he must have been enrolled against his will, and was participating under protest. They twirled and jumped and dashed about the gym until it was time to stop. Now other people were coming in the main doors, apparently for some sort of martial arts class. To his horror he saw Josh and Mikey amongst them. Then he remembered they were always going on about their martial arts training. This must be where they had their lessons! He quickly turned his face away and made for the door of the changing room.
“Ooh, isn’t that your friends there?” asked Tabitha in a loud voice, with a laugh. But Paul was already gone, through the door and into a cubicle.
Madame Bresson came into the changing room after a few minutes, and waited for Paul to emerge.
“So, Paul, do you think you’ll like the class?”
He couldn’t very well say no.
“Yes, Madame, it looks like fun. I hope I can learn to dance like the others.”
“Oh, you will, if you practise. Not just here, but also at home. But you need a leotard that fits. Do you mind if I contact your mother to speak to her about it? Either I can order you one, or she could buy you one herself. That would probably be best – she will know your exact size.”
“OK, Madame. But could you let me speak to her first? You see, I haven’t told her yet that I’ve enrolled.”
“Of course, Paul. If you’d like to speak to her tonight, I’ll call her tomorrow. I’ve got her number on your registration form.”
Paul sneaked off out of the back door that evening, leaving Marcia and the others to congratulate themselves on the success of their plans. He couldn’t see a way of getting out of the class, so he decided to make a virtue of necessity. At least it would please his mum. So after supper that evening, he asked his mother if he could speak to her about something important.
“Of course, Paulie,” she replied, a little concerned. “What is it?”
“Mum, I decided to join the ballet class at school. They say it’s the best way to get fit, and lately I’ve been feeling weak and in need of exercise.”
“The ballet class?” she gasped. She stared at him for a moment, and then, “That’s wonderful! Of course, that’s just the sort of thing you need! Well done!”
Paul could see she was ecstatic. Predictable. He always suspected she’d have been happier if he’d been born a girl. But he didn’t resent her enthusiasm.
“It’s every Monday evening. I had my first lesson today. To be honest I’m aching all over from it. Madame Bresson runs the class. She’s really cool. She’s going to ring you tomorrow about my costume. I need a leotard. Cos I’m a boy it needs to be yellow. The girls wear pink. Do you think you may be able to get me one?”
“Of course, Paulie. No problem. That’s wonderful.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not easy. It’s a pretty tough regime,” he added, hoping to make her realise it wasn’t some sissy pursuit. But he could have saved his breath. His mother was already imagining him in tutus and sparkly dresses.
“Do you mind if I pop round to Nathan’s for an hour?”
“Not at all. Go on. As long as you’re back by nine.”
“OK. See you later!” And he dashed out.
Paul’s mother had to sit down and digest the news.
“I never would have believed it! And he seems to have deserted those awful boys he used to go around with! Now it’s Emilia and – what’s her name? – Rosalind. What a change for the better! Mind you, I always thought he would have been happier as a girl. There’s something about him…. I should ring Lulu and tell her.” (Lulu was her best friend, to whom she confided all her hopes and fears.) “And tomorrow his teacher’s going to ring. That’s lovely!”
She got up and busied herself clearing up the supper things. She was about to wash up, when she remembered she hadn’t washed Paul’s lunch box for a couple of days. “Now, where’s his bag? Ah, here it is. Let me see…. What’s this? Not his sandwiches, I hope!” She carefully unwrapped the package. The next moment she was standing there open-mouthed, staring at three pairs of pastel-coloured panties, and one yellow satin pair with red bows. It took her a full minute to recover herself. Then she cried, “Oh, the little sweetie! Why didn’t he tell me?”
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Topic: The Innocent (Read 39469 times)
