"I’m sure those women were talking about me,” I told my aunt as we headed for Gateford Road, home I was informed, to several boutiques that may have what we want. "I’m sure they’ve seen through all this.”
"Don’t be so daft Dais, even your own parents can’t see anything but girl. I think its more likely they were intrigued to see a teen girl in school uniform on a Saturday.”
"Maybe, but its not really school uniform is it?”
"What do the other girls at Wellow House wear?”
"White shirt and skirt,” I replied.
"Blouse not shirt,” she corrected, "And what are you wearing now?”
"White blouse and skirt,” I admitted.
"The same skirt that your friends wear?”
"I guess.”
"So you are wearing the school uniform then.”
I did an eye roll, "If you say so.”

We’d eaten at The Waterfront, a gastro pub by the canal, the women in question, a group of twenty somethings done up like dogs dinners in what they no doubt considered to be designer chic. If you ask me they looked more like high end hookers, especially with their thick local accents. Still, they’re not doing me any harm, I don’t think.

Much like Gran last week in Lincoln, Aunt Claire’s idea of suitable was a bit different to my idea. First it was stuff that would look cute on a five year old, then when I complained about that, it was a dress that I could see Gran wearing. Not that I’m exactly a fashion guru but come on Mum, get real. Of course it didn’t have to be a dress and in shop three, Attitude, I spotted something a bit more demure and adult enough whilst still being a potential wear after the funeral.

It was a calf length skirt in cream cotton with a pattern of tiny pink and blue flowers, with some lace tiering and a sewn in underskirt. The sort of matching top was actually closer to white with darker red and purple flowers, sheer like the overskirt but without a liner. Short sleeves, ruched neckline and arm holes, it all sort of hung together nicely, well I thought so.

"I have to say Dais, that’s quite an adult choice.”
"I am nearly sixteen you know.”
"I’ve got some costume jewellery that’ll work, you sure about this?”
"Well I’d rather it was jeans but in the circumstances…”

We had nothing else to get in town, so once Mum had paid we made our way back to the car for the journey home.

"Lets have a look at that chest of yours,” Aunt Claire instructed me once we were back at the Lion.
"It’s just an itch, its not like I need to wear a bra is it?”
"You are a girl, girls wear bras, ergo you need to wear one.”

Well you can’t fault the logic except I’m not a girl and I don’t have anything to need a bra for, I’ve been wearing one, slightly padded, to give the illusion of needing one. And as girls go, I’m not the only one friendly with Captain Morgan, he of the sunken chest. Yep, ‘my’ bra is really just another prop in the illusion of Daisy Miller.

We adjourned to my room where I quickly got down to bra and knickers, Johnny would’ve balked at this level of undress around his mother but Daisy, well we’re all girls together right?

"Pop your bra off then Dais.”
“’kay,” I agreed reaching behind to release the hook and eye fastening.
"You’re quite good at that.”
"Necessity,” I suggested, slipping my arms free of the tangle of straps.

"They do look a bit puffy,” she agreed after feeling around my chest, "Do they hurt at all, apart from the itching that is?”
"Not really, a bit of a sort of ache maybe?”
"Well I can’t see any rubbing from your bra, use the E forty five but let me know if it gets any worse.”
"Yes Mum.”
"Then get yourself dressed, Dad wants to open the outside tables this evening so everything will need a wipe down.”

Oh goody, more running about like a blue bummed wotsit.

There was to be no repeat of last Sunday’s trip with Gran, apparently Daisy has enough clothing for now and my presence, well Daisy’s, is required as waitress and table clearer after once again attending St Swithun’s for, it has to be said, a less well attended service than last week. And of course that meant I had to wear my ‘best’ dress for the occasion, yes I know I picked out, doesn’t mean I had to like wearing out it in public.

"Is this gonna be every week now?” I enquired of Aunt Claire as we made our way back to Chez Johnson.
"Well it is kind of expected, at least until the solstice.”
"Solstice?”
"Longest day? Twenty first of June?”
"That’s two months away,” I groaned.
"Its the custom,” Aunt Claire continued.
"Is that it then?”
"Let’s get one hurdle sorted at a time, lets get back and changed.”

Mum’s avoidance of directly answering my question did not bode well.

"Which reminds me Dais, you need to pop round to see Alice Porter this afternoon sometime, get your coronation gown sorted out.”
"Coronation gown?”
"You don’t have to repeat everything, yes, coronation gown, you know, for the big day?”

I cast my mind back to my previous attendance at the May Day festivities, I’m sure the Queen just wears like a plain white shift thing. Surely that’s like a one size fits all thing?

"I thought I get to wear like a plain white dress thing?”
"Well it is white but its far from plain Dais, Alice will explain later.”
"Okay,” I agreed with a sigh.

The roast of the week at the Red Lion was venison, not my favourite meat, I find it a bit rich for my tastes but if I wanted a proper dinner it was Hobson’s. I looked at Dad and Jake’s loaded plates with a lingering envy, my own plate a duplicate of Mum, Aunt Claire’s smaller portion. If it had been lamb I would’ve been more upset but roast Bambi, well maybe it was as well.

No immediate escape this week, by the time we finished eating the pub was already attracting the Sunday lunch brigade, no rest for the wicked or Daisy Miller. My role as serving wench isn’t super hard of course, Johnny had done exactly the same job, no the difference is more subtle. My alter ego could get away with being a bit surly, no one expects a teenage lad to be all smiles but Daisy, well the customers and seemingly my parents expectations are somewhat different and a couple of hours of being miss congeniality are quite wearing.

"Dais,” Aunt Claire called out, "When you’ve done that.”

‘That’ was clearing the table in the big alcove, the recently departed patrons, a family group of eight, two parents, three grandparents, two young kids and a baby, had left crockery armageddon, cutlery and food on the floor and as much debris on the table as the plates. I did the clean up as quickly as I could, the carpet will need a bit more attention but at least I got most of the peas and potato cleared up.

"You wanted me?”
"Quite a mess huh?”
"Yeah, the carpet will need George on it later,” I offered and in case you’re wondering, George is a wet and dry cousin to the Henry hoovers. "So what do you want me for?”
"We’re a bit quieter now, do you want to go around to see Alice, it shouldn’t take long then you’ll be back for the evening crowd.”

I didn’t actually want to go and see Alice but at least I could relax a bit, drop the fixed smile at least.

"Okay,” I allowed.
"You know where she lives?”
"Up near Jordan Castle?”
"Foliat House, top side of the castle, you okay going on your own?”
"I’ve been up to the Park enough times,” I scoffed.
"But Daisy hasn’t,” she pointed out.
"Its less than a mile away.”
"I can get Jake to drive you up.”
"No need, I can ride up.”
"Well use my bike then, it’s a bit more ladylike than Johnny’s thing.”

I sighed deeply, I like Johnny’s bike, its a Specialised Dirt Jumper, its got disc brakes and Manitou jump forks, its well hard. Mum’s bike is some Liv thing with a drop frame, not in the same league. I suppose it is a bit more appropriate for Daisy to ride tho', especially in a skirt.

"Okay,” I allowed.
"I’ll call Alice to let her know you are on the way and ring me when you get there please.”
"Yes Aunty.”
"I’m serious Daisy, you might be a young woman now but you are a young woman now.”
"Okay, I get it.”
"Off with you then.”

I collected ‘my’ back pack cum handbag, added my purse and phone then dragged Mum’s bike out of the garage that the family bikes shared with empty beer casks, furniture and all the other rubbish a pub accumulates. I wobbled across to the road, its quite different to ride compared to my Dirt Jumper, then cautiously set off. The main road was quite busy for a Sunday afternoon but it was only a couple of hundred metres to Castle Lane and the climb up to the Castle.