The Peep Toe Shoes

That day when I told Miss Fuller that I was unaware that peep toe shoes were not acceptable footwear for Wombwell Hall I was, for once, telling the truth. We were both looking at the shoes in question at the time and it was only just beginning to dawn on me that I was in fact in breach of the uniform rules and that the violation had been going on for almost that entire term. There were three weeks to go before the Christmas break and we were already deep into the daily practice of appropriate Carols of which my favourite was definitely Oh Little Town of Bethlehem.

Miss Fuller looked slightly irritated when, because my mind had strayed to traditional Carols, she had to ask me twice if I had alternative footwear available. I hastily told her that yes I did even though this was a lie unless you counted too tight summer sandals passed down by my cousin Connie and Wellington boots. I knew neither were an option for daily wear to Wombwell Hall. I hoped she would not remember that it was the second time I had stood before her for breach of shoe rules and in fact she didn’t seem to. She looked up from the chart on the desk in front of her and stared directly into my eyes, stopping herself from demanding that I look at her when she was speaking in the nick of time because by a mere millisecond I already was. Instead she told me that she need not remind me that I was a Fully Funded for Uniform Pupil. I nodded agreement and she added that there was really no excuse for me to be wearing the forbidden peep toe shoes and I hastily agreed and wondered what was wrong with them considering that they fitted the required colour option of brown or black. They were black and well-polished. There was still a lot of wear left in them even though I had a tendency to Roll Over the left foot which rendered the level of the sole uneven.

I was always accused of being Hard on footwear and my mother only wished Old Hammond the cobbler could fit metal clinks like in the old days but he’d told her they were only used for work boots in the thoroughly modern 1950s. I didn’t mention any of this to Miss Fuller of course, knowing perfectly well that she would not be interested being a woman unlikely to ever have encountered a clink on a work boot. The Headmistress was always fair and it was not as if I was constantly hauled before her for misdemenours but she was also Posh in the way that those who went into teaching back in those days, and rose significantly were. And she was stylish and wore tweed suits with gored skirts and cream silk blouses. Her hair was short enough for my mother to describe her as Mannish and her own shoes were as highly polished as mine but sensibly laced and of course without any vestige of a peep toe about them. Her voice always seemed to be hiding behind her teeth and when she spoke she sounded a bit like the military men in the films my mother liked so much about officers escaping from prisoner of war camps in World War Two. In fact there was no doubt that she was not the most feminine of women but this applied to more than one of those entering the teaching profession in my opinion and I had already decided it was a consequence of some aspects of higher education probably Mathematics. She was telling me that as I had alternative footwear she did not want to see the peep toe shoes again and to remember that I was Fully Funded so I nodded enthusiastically and assured her it would not happen again. I did, however, hope my mother would not get too angry about it all and wondered what I would wear the following day.

I need not have worried at all because the next day was a Friday and instead of going to school I was taken on the 480 bus to Dartford to Dolcis Shoes where my cousin Margaret was now working. We bought proper school shoes with sturdy soles and long laces and I was allowed to choose either black or brown so I chose black. Then we had cups of tea and biscuits in the café over the road because Margaret was entitled to a forty five minute lunch break. We paid for the café treat because Margaret had managed to organise for us to get the shoes at sale price even though the sale did not start for another week.

In the cafe Margaret talked about the Wednesday evening typing class she was doing in order to better herself and my mother talked about schools having a Bloody Cheek telling students what kind of shoes they should be wearing and how women like that Miss Fuller didn’t know their arses from their elbows and those peep toe shoes still had plenty of wear left in them. I talked about not really understanding what Fully Funded for Uniform really meant even though of course I did, and was pleased to note my mother’s discomfiture. I even elaborated and said Miss Fuller had explained that Fatherless pupils were considered Orphans and so a regular sum was awarded to us so that all our uniform needs could be fully met. This meant, I said that expensive items like regulation cardigans could be purchased with ease from the Uniform Shop in Gravesend. We did not have to wear hand knitted ones that our mothers made.

My mother said there was plenty of wear left in the school cardigan she had knitted and it was exactly the right shade of Forest Green and she wasn’t made of money.