memory of her mother she saw the same sort of hair and skin: and her mother, she felt sure, was beautiful. Her mother, she was sure, had smelt of cool air and soot, and had worn trousers with patches at the ankle. The trousers, in fact, were perhaps the beginning of the troubles. When Sophie was nearing eight years old, she asked Charles for a pair of trousers. Is that not rather unusual for women?’ ‘Trousers? said Sophie. don’t think so. My mother wears them.’ ‘No,’ ‘I them, Sophie, my child.’ ‘Wore them. Black ones. But I’d like mine to be red.’ ‘Wears wouldn’t prefer a skirt?’He looked worried. ‘Um.You Sophie made a face. I really do want trousers. Please.’ ‘No, There were no trousers in the shops that would fit her, only the grey shorts that boys wore and, heavens!’ said Charles, – ‘Good ‘you look like a maths lesson.’ so Charles sewed four pairs himself in – brightly coloured cotton and gave them to her wrapped in newspaper. One of them had one leg longer than the other. Sophie loved them. Miss Eliot was shocked; and she said, ‘Girls,’ ‘don’t wear trousers.’ But Sophie insisted that they did. mother wore trousers. I know she did. She used to dance in ‘My them, when she played her cello.’ can’t have,’ said Miss Eliot. It was always the same. ‘She ‘Women do not play the cello, Sophie. And you were too young to much remember. You must try to be more honest, Sophie.’
memory of her mother she saw the same sort of hair and skin: and her mother, she felt sure, was beautiful. Her mother, she was sure, had smelt of cool air and soot, and had worn trousers with patches at the ankle. The trousers, in fact, were perhaps the beginning of the troubles. When Sophie was nearing eight years old, she asked Charles for a pair of trousers. ‘Trousers? Is that not rather unusual for women?’ ‘No,’ said Sophie. ‘I don’t think so. My mother wears them.’ ‘Wore them, Sophie, my child.’ ‘Wears them. Black ones. But I’d like mine to be red.’ ‘Um.You wouldn’t prefer a skirt?’He looked worried. Sophie made a face. ‘No, I really do want trousers. Please.’ There were no trousers in the shops that would fit her, only the grey shorts that boys wore – and, ‘Good heavens!’ said Charles, ‘you look like a maths lesson.’ – so Charles sewed four pairs himself in brightly coloured cotton and gave them to her wrapped in newspaper. One of them had one leg longer than the other. Sophie loved them. Miss Eliot was shocked; and ‘Girls,’ she said, ‘don’t wear trousers.’ But Sophie insisted that they did. ‘My mother wore trousers. I know she did. She used to dance in them, when she played her cello.’ ‘She can’t have,’ said Miss Eliot. It was always the same. ‘Women do not play the cello, Sophie. And you were much too young to remember. You must try to be more honest, Sophie.’
y5-y6-rooftoppers-by-katherine-rundell.docx