“Oh I like them,” she says. “Is there a matching brassiere for him?”
“Sinead: bring a couple of brassieres for Missus Stewart to choose. Must be white for his blouse.”
Melvyn wilts between the two older women as Sinead steps behind the counter, pulls out a drawer to lay on the counter, and brings out two different brassieres. “Oh this one’s cute,” she cries with a tinkle in her voice.
Miss Tavistock takes it from her. “Keep your opinions to yourself, young lady,” she says and stands behind Melvyn, reaches round him with the bra straps for him to feed his hands through, and draws it together to hold behind him.
