Natalie

The Red Shoes

They arrived one Christmas morning wrapped up under the tree. Rusty red shoes with a thin gold bar over the toe and a two inch heel as chunky and solid as one of her little brother’s building blocks.

She wore them whenever she could, which was not often as high heeled shoes were banned everywhere it seemed. Not allowed at school, no call for them at Brownies or ballet class or Sunday school, and they made her too slow to wear them around the supermarket, her mum said.

Putting them on her foot slipped forward, her toes hitting the hard front leaving a gap exposed at the heel big enough to fit her fingers in. They didn’t fit but that didn’t matter, she felt tall and sophisticated, like a grown-up, able to take charge of herself and get what she wanted.

She had to concentrate hard on each step as she walked to the corner shop with her friend Caroline who she thought was probably jealous. She clomped into the shop, over to the freezer and up to the counter. “Two cola ice poles please” she said in a way she thought sounded much more adult than usual. The man behind the counter took the 20p coin from her hand and rolled his eyes. She felt small again.