“Of course there are many styles of kilts,” explains the proprietress as Sinead stands behind him to dress him in his blouse. She holds it in front for him to push his hands through the little puffed sleeves and the tiny cuff-spaces for his arms. “For a truly girlish effect I favour the shorter, wider styles, and they require wider petticoats, like these.” She holds up two hangers, one on either side of herself, so show how widely they flare from their waist loops. A wail escapes Melvyn’s throat, causing Sinead’s hand to clasp her chin beside his face as she senses the agony coursing through the boy’s body. She draws his blouse together at the back and starts to fasten the buttons from beneath the rounded sides of his little divided collar.
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