Looking for a new Andrej. part 2 of 3
The hunt for Avril

The grapevine has the news about 'the new Andreja Pejic' - who is going to find her ?

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[You’ll notice the name change in most of the main text – well, it’s the polite thing to do now she’s come out as transgender. I wrote this a while ago when the model was Andrej. I have left the name as Andrej a few times because that is what my less knowledgeable characters might do in real life!! I try to write ‘real’ stories with a kindness in favour of TV/TG/TS. Sadly real life is not as kind as one might wish so sometimes I reflect that.

I’m uncertain about the new-politically-correct manner to address a transperson prior to their own acceptance of that fact! I have heard transpeople use the phrase "when I was ‘previous-name’ " about themselves. My authoring use of Andrej has caused more ripples than anything I have put out in over 5 years except when I wrote about Physics v Creationism.]

~o~O~o~

In the morning, we had to deal with the social chaos caused by our efforts. All of us had to spend quite some time dealing with Facebook and with all the other media links that we or our friends used. Dad had encouraged us to keep our webbiness to a minimum. But there’s a typical-teen-minimum and a Dad-suggested-minimum. They’re quite different.

There was a lot of, well, applause – and very little nastiness. We began to relax. Then, wandering onwards to what was trending locally, we noticed some comments on Facebook talking about the new Andreja Pejic being found and that she was called Avril Nigaud.

Our small and carefully planned April Fool was being exploded. We hadn’t planned for this, cunningly or otherwise. We were being Blackaddered.

What were we going to do?

My suggestion was to minimise, keep it quiet, and be very clear that there was no Avril Nigaud, never had been and, even if there was that we knew nothing about anything, we hadn’t been there, it was dark too and whatever anybody was saying, nothing had happened. That I was Michael Russell and we had had a busy but not especially complicated weekend with some friends.

To my amazement, there was general agreement with this plan. Nobody wanted to face the complications of dealing with parent-units on the rampage. How long would any of us be grounded for. Four weeks, four months, four years, forever.

Keep it simple. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about ossifer.’

Murphy’s Law was already in action. If it could go wrong it had already – even if we knew nothing about it.

The key problem was that Andreja Pejic has, first, a small but potent fan club and, secondly, a small but potent lawyer keeping an eye on those who might damage his/her reputation. And one, just one, youtube clip was enough to get them going.

Youtube keenies have wondrous weapons at their command. They can find when and where a clip was loaded. They can scan each frame to get extra details ….. trouble, BIG trouble. And the fashion industry has so many people at the edge who want to get closer. So many of these were now looking for Avril. After all, Pejic had made a lot of money for a lot of people. A second Pejic might give them a boost up the greasy pole of fashion.

By the time we were looking at our emails, ‘They’ knew that a Pejic-lookalike lived in Barwell (back-calculated from the ip address of the schoolboy who had taken and downloaded the image).

Obviously I wasn’t dressed as Avril when we went to the football. But there were spies looking for me. Tall, skinny, below-the-collar blonde hair, small moles …… . You try and guess how long I was going to stay hidden. I didn’t give it a thought. None of us did.

Not too late, we set off to the match. We might miss the first few minutes – but we weren’t worried. We knew five of us would be significantly expanding the attendance.

We had a good time. The boys all smiled when they saw me in proper boy-mode. Charlie, the captain, congratulated me. “Nice performance there, Mike. I’ll be a lot more careful next time a French chick comes near me.”

I smiled at Charlie, “Well you can be confident it won’t be me next time.”

“Thanks for the warning, mate.”

Wow – I was a ‘mate’ with one of the school hierarchy. That was a bonus.

Some of the other lads now knew about the events of last night. Their reaction seemed to be pretty good-humoured. The only person on the team who was known to be gay smiled and said ‘I wouldn’t have known what to do – a boy showing his femme side for tough macho me – lovely.”

“No, no, that wasn’t the thing at all. It was more of a theatrical performance than anything proclaiming my brother’s gender or sexual proclivity. Don’t look for what isn’t there, young Patrick” responded Alice with a grin.

“Can’t blame a poof for being hopeful. With all these rough, tough sporty folks I have nobody to go out with.”

“Now that I don’t believe.”

The match was fairly even – it being a calm, sunny day made it nicer for everyone. A winter-type day with drizzle, cold winds and frozen ears as is more typical. It makes spectating dire and the playing uncomfortable. I was glad I was on the touchline in a nice warm jacket.

When the match was over, we set off home. It was about a mile and, again, was a lovely day. We all felt the need to walk so we had left the cars behind.

“There’s a sale on, y’know. Would you mind, Mike, if we made a little detour?” asked Sandy.

“Oh, come on. I learnt something yesterday about girl-shopping. I doubt if any of you has the ability to make a little detour when there’s a possibility of shopping. Yes No?”

“Alice, perhaps it was a mistake to show Mike too much of our world?”

“So, tell me, Melanie, what can we do about it. You can’t put a scrambled egg back in the shell. He knows. Either we kill him or we accept his interference.”

“We’re not supposed to kill siblings – not while anyone’s watching’.”

“Yeah, spoils it all somehow.”

I smiled at my sibs. “Okay, we can spend some time in the shops – but I want something in return and I claim my right to say what that’ll be before midnight.”

“Fair,” came a chorus of four.

We hadn’t realized that clothes shops are part of the fashion / publicity network. We were in the second shop when a woman came over to us.

“It is you, isn’t it. You’re this Avril Nigaud. The one they’re calling the new young Andreja Pejic. I’m so excited you’re in my shop. Do you want to come in and have a proper look – with all your friends.

I was so far beyond speechlessness and blushing that I was a silent beetroot. The others weren’t much better.

Sandy recovered first. “I think we’d better go somewhere quiet where we can sort this out.”

A few moments later we were sitting in the lady’s office.

Sandy seemed still to be in charge. “Excuse me, ma’am, who are you and what are you wanting? You jump out at us, to be mildly blunt, and what’s it all about.”

“There’s been a storm all morning about the new Andrej Pejic being someone local. And I’ve been keeping my eyes out just in case. And suddenly, there you were. I couldn’t keep still.”

“I’m really not sure what this is all about.”

“I’ll keep it simple. Andrej Pejic is a phenomenon. Somewhere between a gorgeous boy and a beautiful girl. He began as a boy but, while making millions of dollars as a model, has transformed recently into a girl called Andreja. No one can replace him – but everyone is on the lookout for a similar possibility. And this morning, someone with a very similar style has been discovered. And it’s you, my pretty.”

“Er, what.” My first contribution to the discussion.

“Honey, if you have even a percentage of the style and panache that gets through the camera that Andrej had and Andreja has, well, if you’re interested then you could be a top market model. Fame, fashion and a likelihood of much money. Unless you’re a startlingly abnormal human – some of that has to be tempting. If you’re quite good rather than as-good-as then you won’t have as much impact or penetration, so you won’t make as much money and you won’t last as long. The life-cycle of a model is often short and brutal – but I think you have a really good chance to do well.”

“Er, yeah, and how exactly.”

“First off, we need to get you in front of a camera in a variety of costumes. If you do look good through a lens – then we look or your agent looks for ways to make you make money.”

“What do you get out of it, hmm,” was Alice’s input.

“If I play my cards right, I get first refusal for something and at least the kudos of making the discovery. I’m a businesswoman. My aim, my need is to sell at a profit. Anything that increases sales or reduces costs is good for me. A good model, extra publicity, all those can help me. Any help I can get is good. Any help I can give to get help at minimal cost is also good. You may, repeat may, be a good thing. Are you willing?”

“Er, ummmm, I need to think. Alice, what do I do?”

“I think, my skinny yet potentially money-laden sibling – this is too big for us. It’s got to be time to talk to they-who-must-be-obeyed.”

“No,” gasped Melanie. “Not them.”

“Yep. Them. Not a lot of choice. We can say no right off – but this isn’t an opportunity that’s going to come round twice.”

“Er, Alice, how about we get some pictures. See if Mrs er

“Jones, Kathy Jones”

“Mrs Jones thinks that Mike has got whatever a camera needs, then we’ll know more,” said Janet.

“Mmm, that makes sense. Can you arrange anything, Mrs Jones.”

“Please call me Kathy. I’ll ring my friend Erica, she can do some portfolio shots if I ask.”

This was getting out of control – and accelerating round the bend.

“Do I have any say in this?”

“Well, you can either join in willingly or be a complete dull when the camera is pointed at you. But we are talking money here. With even a little luck, you can fund at least some years at university. I’d do anything to avoid the hurt of university debt. You have to do this at least.”

The suggestion didn’t seem unreasonable. I didn’t like being outed so quickly and I had no idea how this would go at school. But it would be silly to deliberately avoid a chance for money.

“Okay. But we get every picture, every negative, complete ownership until we have some competent advice from them or someone they recommend.”

“Er, ladies … and Mike, what are you talking about?”

“Mike’s my younger brother. We need to get the parents involved and they’re away for a while.”

“Just how old is Mike?”

“He’s 15.”

“What. Oh. That does make a difference. I thought from what I saw that he was 18 or thereabouts.”

“No, 15, at school. I’d guess he’s under the age to consent to pretty much anything. I know he can’t sign a contract.”

“But you think doing some pictures will be reasonable.”

“I see nothing un-reasonable about something like that.”

“So I can ring Erica?”

“Yes.”

“While I’m calling, do you girls want to find three or four outfits for Mike?”

The girls scurried for the racks. Sandy stayed with me for a moment. “Are you okay with this, Mike?”

“Not really, no. It might be turning into the biggest backfire of any cunning plan we’ve ever had.”

“Now don’t get your knickers in a twist. Be a big boy and look to make the best of it.”

“The best of it will be never ever wearing knickers of any sort.”

“Now, now. A best will be making a lot of money for wearing colourful costumes. And you’re a boy, I bet you’ve wanted to get into a girl’s panties.”

“Ha, but not like this. It’d be different if you ….” My mouth stumbled to a halt as the little voice in my head escaped through the open hatch at the front.

“I’m sort of glad you didn’t finish that sentence. We can talk about your interest in exploration later, much later. For now, we need to look at outfits for you.”

“Mmmm.”

“Do you want to pick something from the boy’s section. Might as well cover all the options. There’s a nice leather jacket – or I can see a linen jacket as well which would be worth a look.”

“Errummph, s’pose.”

“Good boy, I knew there’d be something to get you interested.”

“Errrumphh.”

“Well, get on with it. We haven’t got all day.”

While we looked at menswear, there was scurrying and scampering at the other side of the shop as three demented alien life-forms searched for The Answer to Life, the Universe and Everything.

It was only about four or five minutes later that Kathy came back to action with her news. “Erica will be here in about ten minutes. I’ve got two outfits in my mind. I’ll set them up and see what else you have found. We need about five or six so that we have a fair variety.”

“In case you didn’t know, most of the more famous pictures have Andreja wearing black, cream, silver or at least monochrome. Keep your eyes open for those combinations. Er, Mike, what size shoes are you.”

By the time Erica turned up, we had a set of possible outfits. Mike had gone with the linen jacket which was cream with a brown fleck. There were matching trousers and a dark grey shirt was what we felt went best.

The other girls had found a jersey dress similar to the one at the party. Dark Green with a cream trim and a little fascinator hat in reverse colours. I had no idea how Mike would react to that one.

A second outfit was a froth of multi-ruffled cream cotton and lace; a third was a black satin top with black leggings and a red and white scarf. Their fourth was another creamy white dress, sleek satin from top to ankle – but cut quite low on the bodice.

Kathy had two more. And there was general agreement that we had a good range whereby we could see quite quickly whether the project was viable.

I felt a bit sick at the idea of dressing up again. Sandy saw my expression.

“Hey, boyo. Treat this as a bit of theatre. Just a series of costumes to give your stage performance some extra colour and some more options.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’d be the best way to do this, Thanks, Sandy.”

What I had expected to take an hour or hopefully less–six costumes and some snaps of each – took bloody ages. At some point Janet went home and later Melanie left to finish her homework so it was Kathy, Sandy and Alice jabbering amongst themselves, telling me to do this, wear that, look this way, stand like so, and then Erica doing her ‘I have the camera so I can tell you to do things too’ bit.

And bloody make-up as well. Yukk. Like the Karate Kid movie ‘wipe on, wipe off’. Double multi-yukk.

And Erica said what a nuisance it was that we were rushing her so.

Head shots, body shots, long distance, close-up, face on, side on, walking, standing, …… if you get the picture then I didn’t. It was tedious, boring and such an introduction to the world of fashion that it turned me right off.

Fortunately, Sandy noticed. “Come on folks, this is coming across as amateur hour. Mike’s getting so fed up that he’s never going to agree to do this again. He’s bored, bored, bored. You’ve done four costumes in well over 2 hours – and you’re getting some extra outfits together. Ten minutes more is the max. Get real. He’s not your new toy.”

Erica burbled, “But this is such an opportunity. I just want to make sure everything is as good as it possibly can be. I feel I’ve barely had time to look at the pictures I’ve already taken. But I can be done with this outfit in just a few more minutes. It won’t take as much as ten, if that’ll help.”

Kathy put her oar in. “How about we take that break as soon as possible, get some food and drink in and look at some of the pictures so far. Then we can decide if we need to do any more.”

“No. Not good enough. First we ask Mike what he wants. Mike.”

“Well, thanks, it feels like the first time in ages that I’ve been asked about anything. If this is what models go through then I’m pretty sure it’s not the life for me. I’m tired. My feet hurt. I’ve got this muck smeared all over me, then I’m scraped bare and a different set of muck goes on – it’s so not what I was planning to do today. I’m not a girl. I’m not a wannabe-girl. I’m not some boy with fantasies about dressing up. I’m just me. For reasons unclear to me I’m dressing up as a favour to somebody I’ve never met before, being photographed on and on and on by another somebody I’ve never met before. It’s so beyond real that Salvador Dali and Magritte couldn’t invent it.”

“But – somebody did mention money a while ago and it would be stupid to ignore the potential. If indeed there is any. I don’t think you’d be putting in this much effort if you didn’t see there was something special in how I look. I don’t like the idea of wearing fancy clothes let alone having to be prettied up for the camera. But nor am I stupid.” I took a breath.

“I’m not comfortable with this. Heck, my comfort zone disappeared some while ago so it’s far out of sight. Let’s get some decent food in us, have this break, look at some pictures. If we start looking and I look obviously stupid then we know it’s a waste of time. If and I really mean if they are okay – then we take them all away with us and the chip and wait for the units to get back.”

“Okay, Kathy. That’s what’s going to happen.”

“I’m not in any position to argue. I’ll wait until we’ve finished our break before I say anything. And I’ll say the same for Erica.”

Sorting out the food took a while as everyone wanted different things – but Kathy, Erica and the victim did get the pictures done just as the food arrived. We sat around in the back room where we had been working.

The food and drink did make me feel better. Erica set her camera up linked to a big monitor. She said she had flagged some of the pictures rather than showing us everything. There were still far too many. But it didn’t take long before more than one of us was saying things like ‘that looks good’, or ‘yes’. It wasn’t as if I was a real model that knew how to look and stand – but by the end I managed the bored scowl, irritated grimace and looking uninterested on purpose as if it was completely natural.

Erica said “I’ve double-flagged the ones that people commented on. There’s about 50. Do we go on. If you haven’t noticed we’ve been going much faster. If there’s only those three more outfits, I can be done in less than an hour.”

“Haven’t we got enough yet, really. Please.”

“I can promise to be faster. And it would help if Mikey smiled more. The bored look is only really right for older models. Most of the pictures that we’ve selected have him looking interested. I almost said perky then. So – just a bit of happiness, please. I know or read somewhere that it’s helped before on shoots with teenagers so I’ve just gone and bought a joke book for Sandy to read out loud as we go.”

It’s hard to be grumpy when someone is reading out jokes. The next session was much more fun. Kathy stopped changing my makeup every time. More of a touch up here and there, and there was less fussing with my hair.

And I even agreed to a few more shots with two of the morning costumes.

We sat down again while Erica showed the final selection. “I’m sorry that it took so long. And I have to say the pictures this afternoon are much better, but we couldn’t have got them without all the effort we put in this morning. I’m really impressed with you Mikey.”

Alice took over. She had been thinking hard and talking with Sandy while the rest of us had been busy.

“I’ve got a draft agreement here. There is NO agreement to model or be photographed yet. This is simply a confidentiality agreement that, in effect, nothing has happened yet. There is no Avril Nigaud yet. There is no discovery of a new model yet. Nothing has gone outside this room – yet. And all the pictures are on the chip that I am taking away with me. And, of course, I promise to show what’s on the chip only to the people here and my parents. In return, I think we have to accept that Kathy and Erica have some sort of first refusal if the parents agree to anything at all. But the gist of it is – nothing has happened yet. Do we all agree? This is the only copy, so can Kathy and Erica and Michael and me all sign at the bottom. And I’ll promise that as soon as possible I’ll get the parents in on the whole business. And I’ll keep both of you in the loop.”

Soon after, we left. “Wow, Alice, that sounded pretty tough when you spelt it out like that.” I said.

“Well, you saw how excited Kathy was. It would have been too easy for her to do something silly and let the cat out of the bag big time. We have to keep control until we know what we want to happen. But, bro, I do think that there’s something there. Probably not as big and international as that Pejic person – but some of those pics had you looking good.”

On the way home, I asked Alice what we had been planning to do on the Sunday rather than what we were doing.

“Oh, that. I lied.”

“Bad girl, I’ll tell Daddy and he’ll spank you.”

“I had a reason. I wanted to be sure that the work was all done so that we could relax for the rest of the weekend. If something came up that looked exciting or interesting then I could fit it in without worrying about getting you to finish up in a hurry on Sunday night. So a little white lie to get your work done – even if Mel didn’t quite get there.”

“Well, at least we can have a rest from all this girly stuff. I’m exhausted and my feet hurt. And it’s all been a bit weird and getting weirder.”

“Bro, can I suggest one thing for you to do. It’d be really helpful for the parents to have some idea of the sort of money obtained by models, how hard they have to work, is there any real chance of you generating worthwhile mazoola. My personal view is that if you can get say £20,000 in a year then it’s worth considering. Any less, then it would be silly to have you chopping from one costume to another for the benefit of other people. If YOU are benefitting then it’s different. You know what the p-units are like. Facts, facts and detail. I want two or at most three pages if you can do it.”

“Bloody hell. More homework. I can see what you’re getting at though. Grumbling gently, I have to agree that it’s worth doing.” I grinned.

“There’s a good boy. I’ll get you a treat.”

“Rufff.”

The research was quite horrifying. The guts of it was that most models scrape by on occasional not-large earnings. Magazine work is between £150 and £300 for a full day’s work and you mustn’t be late and you are not in charge and the day can be long and and and. A magazine cover may be good for your portfolio (which can cost money too) but it can bring in as little as £200.

Catwalk shows show you off to more ‘real people’ but don’t pay that well, maybe £200.

Catalogue work is good but often requires useable hands, feet, arms, neckline and so on but several days work at £150 to £300 per day, probably 50% more for lingerie. Catalogues are more keen to offer some outfits to get them into the real world ie free advertising for them.

If you keep going for a while and keep a good reputation then sometimes you will be taken on by a name as a regular. This pays better but your prime concern is maintaining the exact shape that they require. And a new designer for the range may want a different look. And then the expected work has gone.

Lots of bookers try to pay in clothes – which can be good but doesn’t directly pay actual bills. Many models go into debt waiting for ‘the next big one’. Notoriously, others eat badly, starve themselves, develop eating disorders, smoke instead of eating, take pills of various stupid sorts. It’s easy to go wrong.

If you get chosen directly by a booker rather than having to start with an agency – then you already have perhaps both feet on the first rung of the ladder. But, and it’s a big but, do not believe any of the promises made to you. The only thing that matters for most models is cash in the bank.

The reality according to one model blogger is that ‘most models spend their days schlepping to casting after casting, usually being rejected from each one. They live in model apartments with three other girls, and celery is for dinner only because they can’t afford much else. How do I know? I’m a model myself.’

This was not enticing me towards the idea of being Avril Lingaud ever again. Too much effort for minimal reward. Not going to get any support from me.

Later, there was a phone call from Kathy.

Alice took it and came back to me quickly. “Somehow, there’s a lot more pressure about this Avril Lingaud. Kathy promises that both she and Erica have kept schtum about it – but she wants to ask if she can have one picture from each set to show to two bookers that she has used before.”

“Mum said she would be back tomorrow. Let’s have all our facts lined up for her to see and she can make that decision. How about saying to Kathy ‘We do understand that a promise from a booker has as much value as hot air – but what sort of amounts are they talking.”

“Not keen, but it’s you they want and ‘hard to get’ may pay real dividends. It’s worth a go. If Kathy expresses any concern – and don’t forget she’s made it quite clear she’s not on our side but she’s not against us either, she wants a good deal for herself and her business. I’ll go back to her.”

I was still working on the fact-sheet for Mum when she came back. “The bookers won’t make any promises – which sounds almost reassuring. They are willing to stop pushing if they get 4 pictures. But they want a proper portfolio by the end of the week. Apparently that’s a lot more outfits, as well as close-ups of neck, feet, hands, ears for all the accessories and so on.

To be brutal – most models get by on perhaps 10 days a month at say £250 per day less travel expenses and gym, makeup and keeping themselves in model shape (all of which are potentially allowable expenses). But lots of them are getting not much more than £20,000 for a hard year’s work. This did not seem worthwhile.

UNLESS.

Unless, I was willing and the interest in Avril Lingaud had already got me past the first steps into actual real income. That would be different. I was simultaneously excited and scared.

I liked the idea that I could help my finances and even the family finances but getting into the role of Avril on a regular basis. Even with help from Alice, Mel and Sandy – I wasn’t keen.

“It’s not looking good for this Avril project, Alice.” I called out as I was printing off my pages. “Too much effort to get off the bottom rung of the ladder.”

“What does Dad say?”

“If it looks too good to be true then it’s probably not true!” we chorused in well-trained harmony.

“Then they’ve got to find a way to sell it to us. I’ll call Kathy and push for something real to tempt us. It’s going to be easy to say that promises don’t pay bills and what’s it worth for a ‘boy at school’ to become well-known for wearing dresses for money. Money’s good but not if you’re battered for being weird or injured or worse.”

“Don’t forget, the lads currently accept that it was a master-joke, that I’m a player.”

“Ah, me dearie, don’t you know how transient and fickle is the reputation of a bubble in the cannon’s mouth.”

“Methinks, thou hast an hiccup in thy quote, sister dear, but I know it not for better. But I do know how quick the mob can turn from like to dislike and back again. I ain’t gonna be no target, no sir, not me sir, not never sir.”

“Then we just make it clear that first – nothing is going to happen until Mum has seen what’s on offer and secondly – they’d better have an offer or there ain’t nothing happening nohow nowhen.”

“Oooh, you sound so tough, sis.”

“How about we sound out a couple of people at school. Maybe Charlie, the captain. What would he think of the joke getting bigger. If we keep pushing that it’s not our idea but people out there getting the wrong end of the stick. Then it’s not about you – it’s about the joke.”

“Let’s have lunch and think about it.”

We went round and round all the options. Then we sat and looked at the pictures. For us, the problem was that we had no skill at choosing pictures. We really couldn’t see how one was that much better than another. We decided to call Kathy. And maybe we’d have to call Erica.

“Kathy, we’re getting whelmed if not overwhelmed by all this stuff. And there’s no way we can choose the right pictures. It’s not our skillset.”

She was on speakerphone. “I was wondering whether you’d be able to look at pictures with any confidence. It’s not as easy as it looks. You have to know how they would look bigger, smaller, trimmed and then there’s editing too. For portfolios, the rule is no editing or at least nothing more than cropping and red-eye. But the photographer should take care of that. What the bookers need to see in a portfolio is poise and willingness. What you’ve done already, well we think they’re very promising.”

“So, like I say, I did wonder how it was going and I’m glad you’ve rung. If you’re interested enough to be going through them then you’re not expecting me and Erica to do all the work. But it sounds like you’re asking for my help in putting together a package for your mum – and perhaps the bookers. If so, I do suggest we get Erica involved too. We won’t push if we can help it – but I can help with numbers and so on to show your parents that this has genuine potential.”

“Mike has summarised it as ‘as a model, he may have one foot on the first rung of the ladder …. Is that how you would describe it.”

“Oh, no, dear, several steps beyond that. There’s real interest on the net. There’s the air of mystery, the caginess, unwillingness even. The fashion world is so blinkered it cannot understand why anyone wouldn't want to join their parade. They know or think they know that I’m close to Avril. Even if I lied bigger and faster than I already am, they want her. I have to confess, the very last picture that was up on the screen, I managed to print off one copy – I didn’t mean to and I do accept that I’m stretching our agreed boundary. But every time I look at it, I think, this isn’t the find of the century – but this model has something special. I absolutely promise that you won’t become an international model or a viral sensation – but I’m confident that you’ll be able to make some £50,000 to £100, 000 which would pay off anyone’s student debt and give you a real lift towards whatever life you intend. I’ve been around for long enough. I’m listening in between what my bookers are saying. There’s some real money being thought about.”

“I am still determined to hold to our agreement. There’s a chance that your mum will be able to look at it within 24 hours or so. I have to give you that time, I’ve already agreed. But if you’re willing to spend some time selecting a first portfolio from what we’ve already shot – then we can hold them back a little longer. Do you want me and Erica to come over?”

“We’d be more comfortable here – but we don’t have a big screen like Erica used.”

“That should be no problem – it has its own carrying case. We can be there in about an hour.”

We used the hour in getting the house clean, well, cleaner. We’d already begun preparing for the arrival of Mum, which would probably be while we were at school. But an extra flick and lick was going to improve our reputation.

Kathy arrived early by about ten minutes. But we were ready. And Melanie had finished her work so joined us just as Sandy arrived. We thought four teenage amateurs versus two older professionals would give us some tiny leverage until reinforcements arrived.

Obviously, Alice and Sandy had been talking. It helped that her dad was a lawyer and her much older brother was studying law. She knew how to balance things better than we did. She had told us that she had to argue once a week on a chosen subject – with references and all the rest. She didn’t want to be a lawyer herself but she was a demon in the school debates.

“Can we agree that all we are doing is preparing a portfolio for Mum. Yes No? And once she has agreed that the project can proceed, we will show this portfolio to the two bookers that Kathy has been, is being pestered by.”

Kathy held her hand up. [Good interruption technique] “I’d really like to be able to show the bookers four maybe five photographs before your mum gets here. I’ve got to hold them off and yet I ought to be able to give your mum some real figures about the potential.”

“I do see where you’re coming from – but Avril needs to be very careful about how she is outed to the fashion monster. At least Andrej was two years older when he was discovered. There’s a lot of difference between 15 and 17, y’know.”

“Let’s ignore trying to be clever. We need a portfolio for your Mum, first. Let’s just get to the job. We’ve got to pick two or three from each set. If we also select a full-body, close-up and detail, ie arm, hand, or whatever, then we do the job that’s going to be required better. Just as a guide, I’ve brought two genuine portfolios with me so that you can see what’s required.”

“Let’s see how we’ve got on after an hour. We can’t spend all day on it, well, not yet.”

By golly it was tiring. I was tired enough from being in front of the camera. Having to process all the different looks and images was too much.

“I can’t do it. I’m already tired. I think I’ve done my share. I’ve done the modelling. I’ve done the draft presentation for Mum. I’m going to have a sit down and a relax.”

“Okay, boyo. And if you want to tidy up around the garden and so on be careful of your nails.” Melanie giggled.

“I’ll give it a look in a bit. It’s only April, the grass hasn’t really got going. But I’m going for a sit-down now. If I feel like it I’ll put the kettle on.”

“That’d be kind, bro.”

In the background I heard the five of them going, ‘yes’, ‘no’, ‘that’s good’; ‘not that one – this one’ and so on for quite a while.

I dozed off.

Suddenly, I was being tugged at by Sandy. “Come on, Mikey, you need to come and look at the final selection. I think we’ve done a pretty good job.”

Still a bit dozy, I stumbled through to see how excited they all were. Alice’s printer had been busy and there was a selection of about fifteen pictures on the table.

They did look good. Not fantastic but then the girl in them was clearly young and amateur. But it was me. No way did I look that real. But I knew the truth, well, a truth at any rate. That was me – and the photographs made me look very real and some years older than 15.

I could tell that they could tell that I was quite stunned by what I was looking at. “So that’s Avril in all her glory, eh. That’s who I’m going to have to roleplay if this goes any further?”

“Well, me dear, I’ve looked into the future with my little ..”

“I’ve had enough of that for this weekend, thanks, Alice. Just chill. I gather that if we’ve made a selection then the next step, somewhat bending the original terms, is to see if we can make a pack for these bookers to see prior to getting approval from Mum. Is that still so?”

“Yeeess – but …”

“I’m not keen, after all, we had an agreement only a few hours ago. What difficulties will it cause if we wait until Mum gets home. And what benefits are there to handing out anything in advance.”

“Bro, in response, the difficulty is that Mum will say no without even considering the potential long-term benefits, money that is, for you. The problem with handing any pics out early is that the bookers are further away from us and more difficult to control. But – if they see some pics and we can tie them down for even 24 hours – then there will be better numbers to show to Mum to prove that the Nigaud project is going to be good for us.”

“Sandy, which side of the debate were you on – and did you win?”

“I don’t think anybody has won yet. We’re all a bit tired and a bit too involved to give any objectivity.” She sounded almost as tired as I did.

“Shall we sleep on it? I know these booker-type people can probably get the excitement to avoid the need for sleep – but we’re knacked. Kathy – what’s the problem with waiting 24 hours. Hold on, has anyone rung Mum to see when she’s due back? Has there been an email or anything?”

Melanie said, “I checked before we went to the football. I’ll check again.”

She was back in a moment. “There’s an update. Do you want to know what’s happening? Duh, duh, daaaah [the Millionaire wait-for-it music]” and she paused.

“Come on Meanie, [a truly hated alternative for Melanie]”

“Is she going to be on time, early or delayed by one day or three days? You have a choice!”

“Don’t muck us about.”

“She’ll be here in - duh, duh, daaaaah – about an hour.”

“What!”

“Yeah, one of the high-ups had to come back ultra quick and there was a helicopter. She won the ticket to go with him. About an hour.”

“Kathy – can you wait that long?”

“Don’t be silly. I can wait even though I know it’ll take more than an hour to get her up to date and in the mood for a decision.”

Now that we had another reason to be excited – we all ran around, except Kathy and Erica who sat talking in the lounge, checking the house, getting everything ready for school and preparing a wait-for-it dinner. That’s one that’s sitting ready for as long as necessary until we’re ready to eat. There’s two versions the ‘all-the-work-is-done’ and the ‘get-the-final-stage-done’. A casserole is the first sort; SpagBol is the second sort because you have to cook the spaghetti at the last minute.

We had a sort of mix – there was a big chicken casserole ready to go but we needed veg and potato. Aren’t frozen peas easy. And peeling spuds is easy too. I cut the skins with a knife so that we could have home-crisps as well.

In about an hour, we heard the car. Since this had been at the station, Mum had obviously got a lift there from the airport. She was engulfed as soon as she came in. We rather liked our Mum. And we had missed her a lot.

After the initial hubbub, she congratulated us for having the house so tidy but why was there an extra car at the front?

So we had to introduce Kathy and Erica. And that was when things got a bit, er, complicated.

Mum did keep quiet through most of the story. You can guess which part of the story we were at by her comments.

“You did what?” “You went to a party as a girl – in a dress !!” “Oh, Avril Nigaud, that’s clever – did anybody guess?” “They think Sandra is a lesbian, how stupid of them.” “You got dressed again?” “There’s photographs!” “They want you to be a model – how much?” “They’re not sure – why not?”

So we were up to date.

Mum was in full business-mode, problem-solving for the family rather than the government. “Right, come with me, Kathy is it and Erica – let’s look at these pictures. You can tell me or show me why they’re special. Girls – and Avril too – I want the table set for all seven of us and everything on the table in ten minutes. If the veggies are going to make it fifteen – tell me as soon as possible.”

It is tough being on the receiving end of Mum in business-mode. You can see how and why she’s known for cutting through the dead wood to the heart of the problem. Can’t see the wood for the trees – get Chainsaw Mum. Like the song ‘I can see clearly now the trees have gone’. Allegedly they sang this at one of the office parties – not in any sarky way but because they like her so much. She’s amazing. She’s tough but everyone approves; even those who get the chop see that she’s as fair as she can be.

I almost pitied the bookers if they met Chainsaw Mum in a bad mood.

It was just on eight o’clock by now and we would be expected to be slowing down as tomorrow was a schoolday. We didn’t have to go to bed but electronic boxes and exciting films or TV were frowned on in the two hours before bed. We often played board games – never Monopoly as this could get downright nasty. Speed Scrabble was the favourite now that we had an agreed set of house rules – Snail Scrabble with a dictionary while you waited was just tedious. But tonight it looked like a two-pair chess tournament. Sandy versus Melanie, me versus Alice.

The adults went off to do more talking. There was only going to be one thing they were talking about. I wasn’t worried – we’d all learnt that worrying was a useless activity. Dad’s summary was that worrying just upset everyone. ‘If there’s an issue that other people worry about, then either you do something about it, or you break a piece off and fix that or some of it is beyond your scope so ignore it. To spend time and energy on worrying is a waste of valuable resources.’ Very much against waste was our Dad.

The chess slowed down after two games each – surprisingly everybody won one game. “What do you think is going on. They’re still talking.”

Of course, we’d been talking ourselves while we played. Sandy kept asking how I would cope if I had to dress up as often as seemed likely with Project Avril Nigaud. I said several times ‘As far as I’m concerned this is a one-off and all it’s all a piece of role-play, a performance. I’m not a girl, I’ve never ever thought I’d be better or do better if I was young Meanie and I’ve never ever thought doesn’t Alice have an easy time, why don’t I want to be like her. I’ve done blokey type games, pastimes and activities except when we were very tiny and it was indoor-only weather. I’ve hardly ever done any dressing up in your frillies or stuff – and when I did it was at least 5 years ago. I wasn’t even a teenager. I do remember being persuaded to be at tea-parties and so on a few times. But never as a pretend-girl that I recall and, well, it’s just I’m a boy not a hidden-girl or a wannabe-girl. And certainly not like the people we read about when we were looking at tolerance who are ‘girls with a minor plumbing difficulty’. No sir, not me.”

“I think we’ve got the picture, brother dear. You’re not a girl or a girly-boy or anything other than a boy who is willing to wear a dress.” Alice giggled.

“Hold on. That’s exactly the sort of comment I want to avoid. So, please don’t be tricksy like that. It’s not nice and it’s not kind and it’ll make me say ‘bollocks and you’re on your own.”

“You hold on – a big part of this is for your friend Sandy and the rumours the nasties are spreading.”

“Yes. So I don’t want any rumours about me. I’d guess that stories about being a tranny or a sissy would be noticeably worse than for Sandy perhaps being a les. Think about it and tell me I’m wrong.”

“No. I think you’d get it worse – and we’d get some of the flak too. We won’t tease you and we’ll both be more careful, okay.”

“Fair enough. And I’ve still got my dare-bonus to claim.”

“That’s true as well.”

“I think I’d have pulled out of the whole scheme if I didn’t think Thursday and then Saturday had showed I could look good enough. I was never completely confident but as you said it was be noisy and dark and you gave me some more help too. Is there a budget on my dare-bonus?”

“To be honest, I never thought about that. Do you know what you want yet?”

“No. But as the sacred Tom Lehrer taught us ‘Be Prepared’. And I promise not to either solicit for my sister or poison pigeons in the park.”

“We bow before thee, young maiden. Thy words are to me like lurid micturitions from a globsy bee. We list and learn and go to prepare the nightly potions which will ensure the softest skin on thy damsel-fair visage.”

“For crying out loud, stop mixing up your quotations and even worse getting one of them wrong. Yukk. I’ve had enough I’m going to go up and listen to some music – and maybe even do some boy stuff, heh heh.”

“Don’t be more revolting than necessary, brother dear. But going to bed is fair enough. I’m exhausted by the whole thing so I reckon we’re all done in – getting you ready – keeping alert throughout the party in case things went wrong – and all this talking. Sandy, do you want a lift?”

“It’s not far, I came on my bike.”

“Not at this time of night, not in the half-dark, I can’t allow it. If the bike won’t fit, I’ll drive fifty yards behind you. And don’t argue.”

“That would make me feel safer. Thanks, Alice. I know you’re tired but I would feel safer.”

“Let’s get to it then. Bike and Bed. I’ll update Mum.”

Melanie and I went upstairs while Mum set off to do Mum-things.

To my amusement, Alice had again left a nightie on my bed. When had she had time to do that, I wondered? Whatever. I wasn’t going to be wearing it so it put it to one side and quite quickly fell asleep.