Getting their underwear wet is inevitable which means they spend an hour or so sunbathing on the rocks until they’re dry enough to don their dresses. “I wish Mrs P wouldn’t lock our corsets on.” Alice says as she fiddles with the lose end of the chain that dangles from her waist. “It’d dry far quicker if I could lay it out in the sun.” she suggests.
By now they’re both completely accustomed to living (and sleeping) in their corsets, so much so that they happily lace each other back in to their corsets after their thrice weekly bath and find it’s taught support more comforting than cumbersome. But Mrs Postlethwaite still doesn’t fully trust them so their corsets remain permanently secured with the yard long curb chain and small brass padlock.
