Crow Stone. Jenni Mills

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      ‘I think that one’s a bit tarty,’ came Poppy’s voice from next door. ‘But a good fit. Gives you an enormous cleavage.’

      I hauled off my school dress. Reflected in the mirrors on two sides I watched my own bare chest revealed. My breasts looked to me like a story I’d made up. They were hardly more than pimples.

      ‘I’m going on a diet,’ I heard Trish say. ‘There’s a grapefruit-and-egg diet Mum used to do when she had to slim down to model underwear.’

      ‘Your mum modelled underwear?’ said Poppy.

      I resolved to go on a diet too. Maybe if my waist got smaller, my breasts would look bigger.

      ‘No, not the pink,’ said Trish, behind the wall. ‘Clashes with your hair. But the coffee one’s good.’

      ‘Shame it has to go under clothes,’ said Poppy.

      They sniggered.

      I put my arms through the shoulder straps of the first bra. It was a horrible fleshy shade, the colour of old ladies’ surgical stockings. Even on the tightest hook, it was miles too big. The cups sagged like wrinkled balloons.

      ‘How’re you getting on?’ called Poppy.

      ‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Good fit. Fine.’

      One of them must have lost their balance because there was a great thump on the fitting-room wall, then a gust of shrieks and giggles.

      ‘Get off,’ said Poppy.

      ‘Get off? It’s you fondling my tits.’ More laughter.

      I undid the bra, picking it off my chest like a scab.

      ‘Hey, Katie,’ said Trish, between snorts of laughter, ‘Poppy had a really brilliant idea on Saturday.’

      ‘What?’ I had a headache coming. My stomach hurt too.

      ‘She said …’

      ‘It was your idea, Trish, I just thought of what we could say.’

      ‘She said we should write a letter to Gary Bennett.’

      ‘A letter?’ I hooked the bra back on to its hanger. Was there really any point in trying on the other?

      ‘A letter saying one of us is his mystery admirer, and offering to meet him. An assignation.’

      ‘That’s a stupid idea,’ I said. ‘What’s he going to do, invite us all out on a date?’

      ‘We pick straws, silly. The one with the long straw gets to go on the assignation. Go with him to Crow Stone for a snog in the bushes.’

      I levered my breasts into the cups of the second bra. It was the same hot-pink style Poppy had picked up, low-cut and padded, with a contrasting trim of black ribbon round the top of each cup.

      ‘It’s a one-in-three chance,’ said Trish.

      I stared at myself in the mirror. The bra was a perfect fit. It plumped up my little breasts into firm globes, filled them out so that for the first time I saw myself with the body of a woman. I turned to look in the second mirror for the side view. I had an outline, a proper shape. I felt a silly grin start at the corners of my mouth.

      ‘So what d’you think?’ said Poppy.

      ‘It’s great,’ I said. ‘Terrific. Count me in.’

      I pulled my dress on over my head, and looked at the new shape the bra underneath it gave me. I put my hands on my hips, I sucked in a big breath, and watched my bosom rise with my ribcage. I could knock somebody’s eye out with boobs like these.

      ‘You found anything you like?’ asked Poppy, from next door. ‘I’m going to get the lacy one, and Trish can’t make up her mind.’

      ‘No,’ I said. ‘No, I can’t be bothered. It wasn’t that nice.’ I looked at myself in the mirror again. I stood on tiptoe, stuck out my chest and pretended to be the girl on the cover of the Roxy Music album.

      I heard the door of the next-door cubicle swing open.

      ‘Ready?’ called Trish.

      ‘Ready,’ I said, reaching up and taking down the other bra from the peg. I picked up my school satchel and pushed out through the doors.

      Trish glanced with a sneer at the surgical-stocking bra in my hand. ‘You’re not thinking of buying that?’

      ‘Course not,’ I said, as scornfully as I could manage. ‘I was just trying it on for the size.’ I walked out of the changing rooms, and hung the bra back on the rail. ‘I’ve got loads of bras at home. You made up your mind?’

      ‘I’m going to wait till Saturday and I’ll get Mum to come in and help me choose,’ said Trish. I glanced down at the bras she was putting back. They weren’t C-cups at all, they were Bs. And no wonder she wasn’t going to buy them right now. They cost more than a couple of dresses would at Top Shop.

      Poppy had finished paying for her bra and was putting her purse away. The middle-aged saleslady with the enormous bosom like a bolster started to rearrange the bras on the rail, clattering the hangers to show her disapproval of the way we had left it. Instinctively I rounded my shoulders and tried to look as concave as possible. But I could feel the new bra hugging me, two secret strong hands cupping my breasts.

      It was only when we got outside that I started to feel anxious.

      ‘Right,’ said Trish, standing on the pavement. ‘What are we going to do now?’

      I could feel the elegant dummies in the shop window staring accusingly at me. I expected the heavy doors of the store to swing open, and a posse of sales assistants, led by Bolster Bosom, to pour out waving and shouting, That’s her! That’s the thieving little bitch who stole a pair of new breasts.

      ‘Let’s go,’ I said, my shoulders prickling, expecting a heavy hand to close on my arm at any moment. ‘I really should get home.’

      That didn’t suit Poppy and Trish at all. They wanted to see Rocky.

      ‘There’s a showing in a quarter of an hour,’ said Trish, looking at her watch. ‘Just right.’

      ‘Better get a move on, then,’ I said, ‘or you’ll miss it.’

      ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Poppy. ‘The cinema’s about three minutes away. Anyway, aren’t you coming?’

      I’d seen it on Saturday, of course, with Dad, but I couldn’t tell them that. ‘I’ve got to get home,’ I insisted. ‘Look, I’m going to head for the bus stop. Don’t want to miss one and have to hang around.’

      ‘You’re antsy,’ said Trish.

      ‘My dad,’ I said, inspired. ‘You know. I don’t want to upset him.’

      ‘Oh. СКАЧАТЬ