A sharp knock sounded on the bedroom door interrupting his thought.
“Jon? Are you up?” came a familiar voice from the other side. It was definitely his dad’s voice, the same warm, slightly gruff tone he’d known all his life, but carrying the same gentle south London accent Jon now heard in his own words. “Breakfast’s on the table. You need to eat something before your first day.”
Jon swallowed hard, still reeling. “I’m awake,” he called back. “I’ll be down shortly.”
He heard his dad’s footsteps retreating down the stairs.
Turning back to the calendar on the wall, Jon stared at it. First day? First day of what?
He scanned the handwritten entries. There was a regularly scheduled appointment for “Dinner with K” every Wednesday. Then his eyes landed on what he thought must be today’s date. Monday 25th April 1955, written in delicate looping handwriting: “First day at McMillan and Daughters.”
Jon’s stomach tightened. A new job. And by the sound of it, he was starting it today. He realised he needed to play along until he had a better idea of what was going on. For starters he should get dressed before he left the room.
He turned his attention to the large oak wardrobe.
Opening it, he found that it was full of what he would have considered appropriate clothes for a young woman in 1955. Lots of skirts, blouses and dresses of various cuts and lengths, tight fitted cardigans and a number of elaborate looking hats. Not a single pair of jeans or t-shirts to be seen. And then there was the underwear. A few different types of knickers and brassieres, plus stockings. He found the selection baffling.
His back was already starting to ache and he realised he needed support. Eventually he decided that he should start with a brassiere. He struggled for a few minutes but then found that if he relaxed and didn’t think about it, his fingers had the muscle memory to deal with the fasteners. The support the garment gave was simultaneously a huge relief and also quite disturbing. He chose a long skirt so that he didn’t have to deal with stockings and paired it with a plain blouse, the closest to a familiar piece of clothing that he could find, even if the buttons did up the other way from what he was used to.
He looked again in the mirror. The clothing fitted his new body perfectly. His hair was still a bit of a mess, but at least he had clothes on.
Jon took a deep breath and pulled open the bedroom door.
