Moss sits down heavily, scraping the chair legs on the floor. The lapel of his black jacket is threaded with a bright row of pins. ‘You’ve seen the shop?’ he asks me gloomily. ‘Ali’s moved some bikes in. He’s doing MOTs at the back. I’m not happy about it.’ He rubs his freckled hands together to soothe himself. ‘He says he’ll pay me for the extra days.’ Moss doesn’t look entirely happy with the coffee, either, scooping it up with his teaspoon disdainfully and letting it drip back into the cup. ‘Andreas, what is this?’

‘It’s the coffee you always have,’ Andreas replies. ‘There’s nothing wrong with it. Taste it.’

‘I just did.’ Moss raises his wild, dark eyebrows and lowers them again.

‘Time to retire, maybe,’ Andreas says. ‘Do it while you’re still young.’

‘Too late, my friend. Anyway, you know how many people drop dead after they retire?’ Moss asks. ‘That’s why I’m never giving up.’

‘You’ll drop dead sometime, one way or the other,’ Andreas points out.

Moss looks at me gloomily. He rubs the loose skin of his face, his eyes glossy black. ‘So, now you’ve got me here, say what you’ve got to say.’

I fold my arms on the table and sugar grains stick to my elbows. ‘Gigi’s boyfriend has got a place in Stables Market and we can share with him if we go halves on the rent. He reckons that there’s plenty of room for you to put a worktable there and if people want alterations, you’ll be there on the spot to measure them up. What do you think?’

His expression doesn’t alter. To be fair, he’s never been a bundle of laughs, has Moss.

He rubs his hand over his eyes wearily. ‘Gigi’s boyfriend, the boring man?’ he asks with a frown. ‘I don’t want him bothering me all day with his talk.’

‘Honestly, Moss, David’s not boring, he’s practical.’ I realise I seem to have spent the last few days defending him for one reason or another. ‘I think it’ll work out really well for both of us. People can browse, there’s more room for stock and people are a lot more likely to be interested in alterations if they only have to walk to the back of the shop instead of finding their way to Morland Street.’

Moss lowers his heavy eyelids, deep in thought. He opens them a fraction. ‘What’s the catch?’

‘There’s no catch.’

‘So why haven’t you said yes?’

‘Actually, I have – I said yes straight away. It’s up to you whether you come in on it or not.’

This is meant to prove that I think it’s a great idea, but Moss laughs out loud. ‘Is he good-looking, this man?’

‘Maybe Greek, if he’s good-looking,’ Andreas observes soberly over the counter.