Free Wishing Water by Freda Lightfoot

Lissa complained, happily changing the subject and holding up a satinette underskirt with straps two inches wide. These slips still have a 1930s look.’  
    ‘Some of our stock genuinely is that old, very nearly antique,’ Jan giggled. ‘Miss Stevens wouldn’t hear of “going modern”, as she calls it. She might get teenagers in her shop and that would never do. Anyone would think young people were a new invention, a disease, the way she carries on.’  
    They fell about giggling as they priced up the unpretentious underwear and stowed it away in the ranks of glass-fronted drawers that lined the walls of the draper’s shop.
    It was then that the idea popped into Lissa’s head, quite out of the blue, and she wondered why she hadn’t thought of it before. ‘Hey, I know. We could find a place together.’  
    Jan’s eyes opened wider than her myopic vision usually permitted as she gazed in astonished wonder at Lissa. ‘Are you serious?’  
    ‘Never more so. Why not’
    ‘It’s quite the thing for young career girls to do nowadays, or so I read in Jimmy’s newspaper.’  
    ‘Is that what we are, career girls?’  
    ‘Well, why not? I intend to make something of myself, don’t you? Though I haven’t quite decided how yet. Having a flat together would be a start in the right direction, wouldn’t it? Good fun too, don’t you think?’  
    ‘Oh,’ breathed Jan, not able to believe her luck in finding such a friend.
    ‘We could afford more rent between the two of us. Make it much more economic.’ Lissa grew enthusiastic as she thought of a place she’d looked at just the other day. She tossed aside a pink corset she had been rolling up to grab her friend excitedly. ‘I’ve seen a converted boathouse. Wooden, close to the lake so admittedly horribly damp, small of course, and with a minuscule kitchen, a spiral staircase and two tiny loft bedrooms above. But with the most fabulous views. Two pounds ten shillings a week. We could go and take a look this lunchtime if you like?’  
    ‘Ooh, yes. That would be lovely.’ Jan’s smile formed a perfect triangle of delight in her small face, and then almost as suddenly faded away. ‘We’d have to get permission off our parents. They’d have to sign the lease or something.’  
    Lissa shrugged. ‘So what? Meg trusts me, though no doubt she’d come over and check it all out.’ She rolled her eyes in exaggerated style as if saying, Parents, how fussy they are.
    Jan still looked anxious. ‘Dad might not care for me going. He likes me at home, expects me to help with the cooking and cleaning since Renee works long hours at the hotel.’  
    Lissa laughed. ‘Hang that for a life. Let the wonderful Renee look after him for a change. She took him on, didn’t she? For better, for worse, for washing and for cooking.’ Lissa held up the long pink corset, suspenders dangling. ‘She’ll be needing one of these if she doesn’t get out of that chair soon and start to do a bit more work. That would really please your dad.’  
    Then they were both giggling so much they didn’t hear Miss Stevens come in, eyes slightly glazed from the small comforter she had been enjoying in the stock room. Her stentorian voice, however, had benefited from the stiff gin and soon put a stop to their hilarity.  
    Suitably chastened, but desperately trying to avoid each other’s eyes in case they set off a second attack of giggles, they got back to unpacking corsets.
     
    Philip Brandon stared through the glass panel of his office door, peering beneath the gold letters that read BRANDON AND BRANDON, SOLICITORS AND COMMISSIONERS FOR OATHS, and frowned. He could plainly see his young clerk, playing the fool, no doubt in pursuit of Christine, the new typist, when he had been specifically instructed to sort the morning post and stamp it with the date received. Worse, Miss Henshaw, Philip’s personal secretary, sat smiling upon both of them, as if there were nothing untoward in