[MaC] And so it begins ... Pamela

[Dorothea Salo]

	Lady Pamela bent into a jack-knife on her chair to put on her silk 
stockings, with a care to their expense and fragility. They were a 
Christmas gift; poor gratitude indeed, to ruin them on their first wearing.

	Her gown of night-blue velvet-trimmed silk lay on the bed; it was a 
long-discarded item from her mother's youth, but Pamela had taken it 
entirely to pieces, laid the frills and furbelows aside, and skillfully 
made over the gorgeous fabric underneath to the latest style, rather 
than spend money frivolously on something new. A little fur jacket over 
the top created the right sort of squarish shoulder, even if it *did* 
make the whole feel uncomfortably like her WAAF uniform.

	Stockings in place, Pamela slipped the gown on. Oh, dear; she had 
tailored it to fit perfectly mere months ago, and here it was getting 
loose. Mum *would* fuss so if she saw, and there wasn't time to take in 
the seams. Well, the jacket and the peplum on the back of the skirt 
would cover, Pamela hoped.

	Not that anybody but Mum would look twice at her, with The Actresses, 
Nola and Nicola, at the party. Just as well; Pamela could slip into a 
corner with Marion and Tabitha and perhaps poor Esme and have a good 
chat, while those two cats bared their long, sharp claws at each other 
and the local toms caterwauled and skirmished about them.

	Jacket, fastenings, gloves, smart buckled shoes... what to do with her 
hair? Pamela suspected that the loose, pinned-down-on-top styles she 
preferred would also be The Actresses' choice. Very well, then. Pamela 
parted her hair quickly -- at least there was a lot of it and it took a 
curl well, even if it wasn't a fashionable colour -- and set about doing 
up the front.

	As ready as she could be, she tidied up her bureau and went to tap at 
her mother's door.