Chapter 1: Darcey Is Seen Buying Blouses Darcey stood outside in the chill of the early morning street. He had come all this way; he couldn't fail to go through with it now. The prize at the end of it would make it deliciously worthwhile. He had his explanation ready. The word OPEN stared him in the face through the glass. He put his hand on the door handle, pressed it down and the door moved. Oh no! It was one of those tinkly shop door bells to alert the whole neighbourhood that someone had just come in. He closed the door behind him and breathed the soft, feminine air of smooth satin. He was faced immediately with a powder blue blouse on a tailor's dummy and a mint green blouse alongside it, both of them hiding the store from him - and hiding him from the store. He needed to get on with his job. If he was going to buy a blouse - or maybe two - he must get it done and get out of there as fast as he could. Small ladies' clothing stores like this one are amongst the quietest places on earth. Darcey stepped forward and found all the blouses: women's adorable blouses in all colours, the softest, smoothest and glossiest he had ever seen, except on the occasions he had deliberately walked along this street, past Blouse Elegance, and drooled over the three mannequin blouses in the small window. He saw at once that there were two women, wearing blouses themselves and not a coat so it was their shop. They were attending to the blouses hanging in two long rows down the length of the store. He dropped his eyes for fear of catching theirs. The thumping in his chest gradually changed into the quickening of his pulse at being this close to such exquisite loveliness. He was wearing the only satin blouse he had in petal pink Milanese satin which he had bought online with his first pay packet three months ago. What a blessing it was he had also bought a matching skirt in dusky pink and his white court pumps. He knew the way he had his hair was definitely passable as a woman and the guys were always telling him he looked like a girl, so he felt safe. If he could buy one of these blouses in front of him today, he would have two to change into and sit blissfully in front of his mirror to adore himself. The large smooth collar of a blouse in lilac satin caught his eye. Dare he touch it and pick it out from the rail? He dared, and he did. It was immaculate: the collar was huge and fully rounded, the sleeves were so full and wonderfully feminine, and the buttons were so sweet - so right for such a darling blouse. Oh no, one of the women was approaching him: she was blond with a pageboy bob, and she wore the same pink button-down skirt that he did with a gorgeous blouse in pink satin. "Can I help you?" she said. She had all the authority of a woman who can challenge you for being in her ladieswear shop. "Er, I want to buy a blouse," he said. He was conscious of her looking him up and down. "Can I choose one?" "What sort of blouse are you looking for?" Her long fingers shifted three or four blouses at once along the rails as she took out a blouse in glistening white satin. It literally floated through the air with a slithering swish and hung beautifully. She lifted its sleeve to show how full it was with a buttoning cuff with three buttons. She was treating it like it was any old blouse and nothing special. Darcey wanted it like nothing else in this world. She picked another to go with it, in soft, powder blue. "Is it for you?" she asked. Darcey had his story ready, or he thought he had, but now that she put him on the spot it didn't come easily. "Er - N-No, I'm - buying it for a neighbour of mine. She can't get to the shops at the moment so she asked me to buy it for her." His words hung in the air with no answer from Celia. He saw her name on her chest badge. She swapped the white and blue blouses for a pink and a green one and held them one either side of her for him to see. "Angie," she said, quietly in the quiet of the shop: "Our customer is choosing a blouse." The second assistant came up. Her blouse was in powder blue and she looked exactly like Celia. They must be twins, Darcey thought. The second woman looked straight at him and almost smiled. "Is it for yourself?" she asked. Darcey was stuck. Did he have to string through all he had just told Celia, who was pinning him with a more detective-like look. "No," he said brazenly, "it's for a lady friend." Then with startling bravery he said: "She wants me to buy her two blouses." These women were not going to show him the door, exposed in shame. They were going to allow him to buy their blouses. "That's nice," said Angie, occupying herself with pulling blouses along the rail and picking one out - in primrose yellow. "What style does she like? As you can see, all our blouses are in satin, but there are plenty of styles." Celia was picking out more to show him too. "Well she likes large collars on her blouses, and - wide sleeves. Sort of 1950s type of blouses." He regretted saying this for some reason, as if it might give him away. "Retro style then?" smiled Angie. He got the feel she was going to be really helpful. She moved across to the opposite rail and drew out one or two sizzling blouses with very full sleeves. She held a pink blouse against herself for him to see its fetching allure. He didn't know it but his mouth fell open. She exchanged the pink blouse in front of her for a blouse in gleaming silver satin. Celia wasn't with them for a minute - she was on her phone. "What size is your lady friend, dear?" asked Angie, pausing at the rail to catch his answer. "Oh, er - " He knew he was 14 but a 16 would be better, or even an 18. "I think somewhere between 14 and 18," he replied, hoping this would get past that obstacle. He suddenly felt there might be other awkward questions. Questions that might make his shopping visit much harder - which might even wreck his chances of leaving the shop with a soft satin blouse in his hand. "She's about my size," he added, thinking that would really help. Celia rejoined them, holding three or four blouses with large rounded collars. They were just the sort of blouses Darcey would die to own. He thought what the hell, and made a bid for one of them. "I like that coloured blouse," he ventured, reaching his fingers and catching the underside of its large Peter Pan collar. "The peach pink?" she replied, and passing the other blouses to her twin she held it against herself for him to see. Darcey had to have this blouse. "Oh yes, I think that is just right. Can I take that one please?" It was the first time she had managed a smile for him. "You'd like to buy this one," and she made to turn for the counter to check out the sale, except that Darcey had not failed to see the white blouse she had passed to Angie, the white blouse he could have hanging next to his mirror as he was admiring himself in his peach pink blouse. "Er, I want to buy the white blouse too, please," he said, his heart starting to pound. It was as he looked left towards Angie that he realised they were not alone. Two other women had joined them, also wearing satin blouses but with the difference that their faces were framed inside large, up-flipped collars with dramatic points above each of their shoulders, one wearing pink and the other in white. "Can we help?" said one of them: Joy. "Does our friend want to buy more blouses?" She was all smiles. They both were. All of a sudden, far from feeling the object of suspicion who might get turfed out onto the street, he felt warm and wanted: a welcome customer. "Our customer is kindly buying a blouse for a lady neighbour of his," explained Celia. Oh my God, they knew he wasn't a girl. We don't know your name?" she continued. "Er - er, D-Darcey." He knew he was blushing. He might have been blushing earlier, but now he could feel it. "So you've bought one blouse, Darcey," said the fourth woman, Iris, coming close to him and filling his nostrils with her powerful, Parisian perfume, "and you would like to buy her the white one too?" "Y-Yes please." She gathered the white blouse on its hanger from Angie. "Would you like to buy more? We can help you choose." It was as if they had taken him away from the first two shop assistants and swept him along the rails. In no time he was holding a third blouse, in palest oyster-pink satin, and he was feeling on Cloud Nine, followed by blouses in cream and apple green. They were all so soft and slippery, so exquisitely feminine, until he found himself at the end of the blouse rail, with Joy on one side of him and Iris on the other. He happened to look at Iris's face. Both their faces. They had changed from smiles of welcome to a cloudy darkness. He stood between them holding three or four women's blouses and it hit him like a blinding punch: he stood revealed as guilty: a man buying women's blouses. "Darcey," said Joy, her white collar framing her strict, lovely face, "Iris and I are shop security. We are called to intervene in case of suspicion of shop theft and other unwanted problems in store. We want you to come with us into my office. You must answer some questions." Darcey didn't get the chance to turn and see what Celia and Angie thought about this. He felt the pressure of two women's hands at the back of his elbows as he was walked, holding his blouses, away from the lovely shop full of women's wear, through a door and into a small office where he was made to sit down in front of two determined looking, beautiful women. NEXT: In Chapter 2: The Selection Interview, Joy and Iris turn Darcey's shopping day upside down. ***