The Easter Bonnet

TThe Easter Bonnet

Elsie, who is nearing eighty, has just received an envelope containing some old photos from her nephew in the North. She sits by the window, the light is stronger there, holding in her hand, a hand wrinkled with age and liberally dotted with liver spots, a small black and white photograph showing three little girls and one small boy. The girls are wear navy blue coats and black ankle strap shoes. Their small heads are crowned with helmet-shaped, straw bonnets decorated with small flower buds. She can even catch a glimpse of the elastic chinstrap on one of the bonnets. The small boy wears a navy blue suit consisting of short pants, waistcoat and jacket. Under the collar of his white shirt is a red and gold striped tie which is held in place by a silver tie-pin shaped like a sword. The belt round his shorts fastens with a silver serpent. Elsie turns the photo over and reads the words written on the back in her mother's spidery hand. `Taken Easter Sunday 1934'.

As she holds the photo closer to the light the children disappear and she finds herself looking into a shop window filled with hats on stands. There are cloth hats, velvet hats, straw hats, felt hats, hats of every shape, colour and size. She hears the shop doorbell give a ping as her mother hustles her inside. The shop is an Aladdin's Cave filled with hats. There are enough hats to crown the head of every woman who goes to church on Sunday. A table at one side holds nothing but straw bonnets and it is to this table that Mum takes her. She picks up a bonnet trimmed with tiny pink rose buds and fits it on Elsie's head. The hat is poorly finished and a sharp piece straw poking through the lining scratches the child's scalp. She gives an involuntary flinch. Mum grabs her arm and mutters,

`Stand still and let me look at you! No, not like that.'

The hat is yanked off her head so sharply that the projecting piece of straw catches in her hair. The reflection in the mirror shows a small child, hair standing on end, with a tortoise-shell hair slide dangling from her ear. She watches as her mother's hand smooths her hair neatly into place and feels the sharp nip as her hair slide is clipped back in place.

Blue rosebuds decorate the next bonnet, which slides down over her eyebrows and scratches her forehead. This time when Mum snatches it off Elsie manages to keep her face straight. The shopkeeper winces in sympathy and quickly proffers another hat, and another and another. The last one leaves a stinging welt under her chin where the elastic snaps back.

`For goodness sake stand up straight, try to smile, and show some enthusiasm child. I'm doing this for you. You do want to look nice for Easter don't you?'

`Please let this one be right', prays Elsie, as she clenches teeth and fists, tightens her calf muscles until her toes curl in her patent leather shoes and straightens her shoulders. Mum steps back a pace, her head to one side, and gazes at her daughter critically. When the shopkeeper proffers yet another model Mum gestures her to wait while she adjusts the elastic carefully ensuring that the straw hat sits squarely on Elsie's head.

`There, turn round and have a look at yourself in the mirror. What do you think? Do you like it?'

Old Elsie chuckles as she too, gazes into the mirror in that shop of long ago.

Nor is she surprised to find the brown eyes of young Elsie, staring back at her. She looks at this ordinary little girl wearing the sort of bonnet all her friends

will don for Sunday School. There's nothing to like or dislike about it. It's just that,

a bonnet, a fashion statement little girls wear with their new top coat, black patent leather ankle strap shoes and dazzling white socks. Just as grey or navy jackets and shorts will be worn by Peter's friends, though not all of them will have a waistcoat like his, and only a lucky few will sport a silver coloured watch with a chain that dangles across the chest in such a grown up manner.

Again Elsie gazes at the four little people in the photograph. The girls are as like as three peas from the same pod, there`s nothing at all to show that she's different, very different.

But Elsie always knew she was different because, unlike the others she never quite lived up to her Mum's expectations. It wasn't that Mum didn't love her. You'd only to see the beautiful Easter egg she'd bought her; a huge egg made of rich dark chocolate decorated with purple, sugar flowers, which took pride of place on the sideboard. Her Mum loved her all right, but somehow there was always the feeling that she was not quite what her Mum expected.

Poor old Mum with her work worn hands and faded gold hair. She'd longed for a chocolate-box little girl with big blue eyes and blond curls. A dainty, fairy like child she could dress up and exhibit like a doll. She had never dreamed slide that wouldn't stay fastened. But with the wisdom of age Elsie realised that it wasn't she who had disappointed Mum, it was the hard times of those depression years in the thirties. Perhaps, life itself hadn't quite lived up to her Mum's expectations.

*******


	Kath's Pages Of Stories and Verse \| home Get Up Early \| Luck Of The Irish \| Man About The House \| Strange Goings On \| The Easter Bonnet \| Innocent Abroad \| Louder Than Words \| Taking The Long View \| Nowt Better To Do \| Sub-page \| Sub-page \| Sub-page \| Sub-page \| Sub-page TThe Easter Bonnet Elsie, who is nearing eighty, has just received an envelope containing some old photos from her nephew in the North. She sits by the window, the light is stronger there, holding in her hand, a hand wrinkled with age and liberally dotted with liver spots, a small black and white photograph showing three little girls and one small boy. The girls are wear navy blue coats and black ankle strap shoes. Their small heads are crowned with helmet-shaped, straw bonnets decorated with small flower buds. She can even catch a glimpse of the elastic chinstrap on one of the bonnets. The small boy wears a navy blue suit consisting of short pants, waistcoat and jacket. Under the collar of his white shirt is a red and gold striped tie which is held in place by a silver tie-pin shaped like a sword. The belt round his shorts fastens with a silver serpent. Elsie turns the photo over and reads the words written on the back in her mother's spidery hand. `Taken Easter Sunday 1934'. As she holds the photo closer to the light the children disappear and she finds herself looking into a shop window filled with hats on stands. There are cloth hats, velvet hats, straw hats, felt hats, hats of every shape, colour and size. She hears the shop doorbell give a ping as her mother hustles her inside. The shop is an Aladdin's Cave filled with hats. There are enough hats to crown the head of every woman who goes to church on Sunday. A table at one side holds nothing but straw bonnets and it is to this table that Mum takes her. She picks up a bonnet trimmed with tiny pink rose buds and fits it on Elsie's head. The hat is poorly finished and a sharp piece straw poking through the lining scratches the child's scalp. She gives an involuntary flinch. Mum grabs her arm and mutters, `Stand still and let me look at you! No, not like that.' The hat is yanked off her head so sharply that the projecting piece of straw catches in her hair. The reflection in the mirror shows a small child, hair standing on end, with a tortoise-shell hair slide dangling from her ear. She watches as her mother's hand smooths her hair neatly into place and feels the sharp nip as her hair slide is clipped back in place. Blue rosebuds decorate the next bonnet, which slides down over her eyebrows and scratches her forehead. This time when Mum snatches it off Elsie manages to keep her face straight. The shopkeeper winces in sympathy and quickly proffers another hat, and another and another. The last one leaves a stinging welt under her chin where the elastic snaps back. `For goodness sake stand up straight, try to smile, and show some enthusiasm child. I'm doing this for you. You do want to look nice for Easter don't you?' `Please let this one be right', prays Elsie, as she clenches teeth and fists, tightens her calf muscles until her toes curl in her patent leather shoes and straightens her shoulders. Mum steps back a pace, her head to one side, and gazes at her daughter critically. When the shopkeeper proffers yet another model Mum gestures her to wait while she adjusts the elastic carefully ensuring that the straw hat sits squarely on Elsie's head. `There, turn round and have a look at yourself in the mirror. What do you think? Do you like it?' Old Elsie chuckles as she too, gazes into the mirror in that shop of long ago. Nor is she surprised to find the brown eyes of young Elsie, staring back at her. She looks at this ordinary little girl wearing the sort of bonnet all her friends will don for Sunday School. There's nothing to like or dislike about it. It's just that, a bonnet, a fashion statement little girls wear with their new top coat, black patent leather ankle strap shoes and dazzling white socks. Just as grey or navy jackets and shorts will be worn by Peter's friends, though not all of them will have a waistcoat like his, and only a lucky few will sport a silver coloured watch with a chain that dangles across the chest in such a grown up manner. Again Elsie gazes at the four little people in the photograph. The girls are as like as three peas from the same pod, there`s nothing at all to show that she's different, very different. But Elsie always knew she was different because, unlike the others she never quite lived up to her Mum's expectations. It wasn't that Mum didn't love her. You'd only to see the beautiful Easter egg she'd bought her; a huge egg made of rich dark chocolate decorated with purple, sugar flowers, which took pride of place on the sideboard. Her Mum loved her all right, but somehow there was always the feeling that she was not quite what her Mum expected. Poor old Mum with her work worn hands and faded gold hair. She'd longed for a chocolate-box little girl with big blue eyes and blond curls. A dainty, fairy like child she could dress up and exhibit like a doll. She had never dreamed slide that wouldn't stay fastened. But with the wisdom of age Elsie realised that it wasn't she who had disappointed Mum, it was the hard times of those depression years in the thirties. Perhaps, life itself hadn't quite lived up to her Mum's expectations. *******