Chapter 6

The quickest way out of the car park to the town centre was to walk up the ramp we’d just driven down.

“Do you want to shop first or eat first?” I asked, when we were out on the sun-lit street.

Mel looked at her watch. “I’d rather shop first. I’m still full after two breakfasts.”

I nodded. “Do you know where you want to go for your clothes?”

Mel nodded. “I’ve got a pretty good idea where to get everything,” she said.

“Then lead on.”

I quickly found that Mel lacked the typical gene that made womankind need to browse extensively and return to each item at least three times before making a decision. In the first shop, one of a budget chain, she headed straight for the girls’ wear and grabbed two plain white blouses for school, then on to t-shirts where she grabbed a pack of three plain white ones.

“Don’t you want a bit of colour?” I asked, indicating a multipack of three different colours in the same style.

“No,” Mel replied. “Mum would spot them in an instant. Besides, they’d have to be washed separately.”

Next came underwear. Mel grabbed a pack of five, plain-white, high-waisted little-girl style panties. I suggested adding a pack of a more adult, hip-hugging style, adorned with little pink flowers. Mel shook her head vehemently then imitated sticking a finger down her throat, so I added another pack of plain whites to the trolley.

“You can never have too many panties,” I said.

Mel rolled her eyes at me but didn’t try to put them back. Instead she headed to the bras, and grabbed a two-pack of plain whites, size 30A. I added another identical pack.

“What about sports bras for Phys Ed?” I asked.

“With these itty-bitties?” said Mel, indicating her chest bumps. “I don’t bother.”

Now I have to admit I have something of a fetish for women wearing sports bras, so I persisted. “They’re perfect at the moment, but even they will eventually sag if you don’t keep them supported while exercising. We’re not leaving here until you’ve chosen a couple of pairs.”

Mel scowled, but sought out the sports bras and added a couple of blue ones to the trolley.

“Not pink?” I asked, indicating her jacket.

“Definitely not pink. I’m not a little girl any more; I’ve outgrown the princess stage.”

Surprisingly soon Mel informed me that she’d bought everything she needed from the current store and it was time to move on to the next, the one where I’d met her the previous evening. We got the items checked out and bagged, three carrier bags full that, although not heavy, were quite cumbersome.

“I’ll take these back to the car while you start your shopping in the next store,” I said.

“Okay. Meet me in the girls’ wear,” Mel replied.

Back at the law firm’s car park, I bumped into one of the partners while I was still in possession of the carrier bags. It was obvious they contained girls’ clothing so I launched a pre-emptive strike. “I’m splashing some cash on my favourite niece,” I said, affecting a grimace.

The partner laughed. “I bet you’re suffering from an overdose of pink.”

“No, that was last year. This year’s colour is blue.”

The partner laughed again. “Rather you than me,” he said. “Now I’m off to prison for a meeting with a client who seems determined to get himself convicted.”

Fortunately the partner seemed satisfied by my explanation of the girls’ clothing. Of course, if he’d actually seen Mel in her outgrown jacket, holey t-shirt and well-work skirt, he wouldn’t have accepted the glib lie so readily.