‘Don’t worry, I’m here,’ I tell Dinah proudly, pushing through and crawling under the counter to reach her. I’ve never used those words before in my life, but while I’m down on my hands and knees I find a credit card belonging to a customer.

Dinah clasps her hands together when I emerge waving it.

‘Thank God!’ Thenk Gott! she says. ‘I heff been looking for that!’

I retrieve her jacket from the cross woman and in a moment of inspiration, I hand the woman the client book and ask her to write down her details so that Fern can find something similar for her. ‘If anyone can, Fern can,’ I tell her confidently.

‘When will she be back?’

‘Wednesday,’ Dinah says. ‘Come back then and yell at her for a change. Kim!’

‘Yes?’

‘This skirt needs wrapping up for this lady.’ She’s now all smiles and graciousness again. ‘This kind lady. One moment, madame.’

I pick up the long pleated skirt and as I begin to fold it, I stop and take a closer look. Something about it reminds me of Enid. I unfold it again and lay it flat on top of some other clothes. The hairs prickle at the back of my neck, and I stare at it in stunned and miraculous disbelief. Could it be? The purples, the moss greens … it’s Enid’s. I know her clothes as well as my own. It’s one of the garments that I gave to that chap, Cato.

Well, then. I look across at the lady who’s buying it. She’s practically a girl, thirty years or so younger than me, only in her fifties, and she’s patient in the melee. I fold the skirt again and impulsively, before I put it in the bag, I raise it to my lips, shut my eyes tight and kiss it.

Though I meant it as a goodbye kiss, the woman smiles and inclines her head, receiving the kiss along with the skirt.

‘You’re smiling,’ Dinah says a few moments later, hands on hips. She’s put her jacket back on. Her black satin turban is slightly askew.

I nod. My heart is full. When I was holding the skirt, Enid’s skirt, I knew that was Enid’s sign to me. But that’s between me and Enid.

I’m not going to tell Dinah about my desperate call, or that she was part of the answer.

I’m not sure how she’d take it. I’m sure in her opinion she rang me of her own volition, because she needed help on the stall. She might not like to see herself as a divine emissary, sent by Enid to stop me from being alone.

I start to chuckle at the thought. It doesn’t matter, because I know what I know.