Room 2D

Story from Roué 6 Rosalind slouches with her weight on one hip, her skirt swelling out over her maturing young hips, school tie slightly awry and the suggestion of a pout on her lips which makes her look younger than her eighteen years and one month. Her blonde hair, secured either side by two yellow bows, falls a little in front of her face, her eyes are downcast and staring blankly at the pattern on her uncle’s brown brogue shoes, and her cheeks are flushed, the rosy tinge a product of her consternation at having just been told that she is going to be punished. Uncle William’s shoe taps impatiently against the floor. ‘Well — what have you to say to that miss?’ Rosie looks up sulkily from under her untidy hair, catching her uncle’s eyes and biting her lip as she sees the cold glint in them. ‘I-I don’t think it’s fair’ she mutters. ‘I mean — if mum were here she wouldn’t say I have to be punished. She — she wouldn’t let you punish me anyway. I just don’t think it’s fair, th

Story from Uniform Girls 13, a follow-up to  Blackwick’s — Tailors since 1897 Two gentlemen in a quiet corner of their club. ‘Blackwick, eh?’ ‘Yes, an absolutely first rate fellow. Make up anything you care to mention and no questions asked. And all in the strictest confidence. He’s made me up some quite splendid things for a couple of young ladies.’ ‘Ah. No questions eh?’ ‘None at all and he’ll do just anything. Keen to have his tailoring skills tested no doubt and also, I don’t doubt, keen to get his hands on a young person.’ A guffaw. ‘I mean when he’s got her up on his table or whatever to take her measurements I imagine those tailoring fingers can dip into all sorts of nooks and crannies. Eh?’ ‘Ah.’ ‘No harm done though. Except perhaps to young Miss’s dignity.’ A knowing smirk from his companion. ‘Just as long as it’s only his fingers, eh, what?’ They both laugh heartily. Then a pocket book is taken out and a

A nicely illustrated story from Uniform Girls 11. The scenario of tailors making bespoke items of clothing for the young wards of elderly guardians was quite a popular subject in the Blushes mags. An interest of Alan Bell's I imagine. The basement fitting room of Blackwick’s (Bespoke Tailors) Limited is a small subterranean grotto whose only natural illumination comes from above, through grimy green-glass pavement lights which presently resound to the homeward tread of City office people, it being five fifteen on a weekday afternoon. Shoe-shaped shadows march across the small glass squares, some slowly, others stepping out, with the tap of high heels a frequent counterpoint to the tramp of heavier feet. Standing on a low stool, amid ill-stacked bolts of cloth and between walls lined with half-finished suits on polished wooden hangers, a dark-haired girl turns her eyes upward and warily watches the passage of those anonymous

Story from Janus 23 by the incomparable R.T. Mason The bright afternoon sunlight was streaming in through the window in a sharply defined shaft in which dust specks could be seen dancing and swirling in a rather fascinating manner. Fascinating, that is, if you had to stand there, five girls in a row, and listen to the Headmaster’s rather droning voice. The voice and the swirling specks together had an almost hypnotic effect. All five of them, 16- and 17-year-olds, were newly starting in this summer term at Westlands School for Girls and so on this first day, as was usual with new arrivals, they had to get Mr Kingston’s introductory talk. Normally, at the beginning of the school year with the much larger number of new entrants, the talk was given in the Hall, but with a small number like this  —  five  —  the Head’s oration could more conveniently be delivered in his study. Having it in the privacy of his room had another advantage  —  it could be combined with another introduction