One thing I’ve noticed is that the other vintage stalls are strewn with signs telling people not to touch the garments. Don’t make me laugh, I thought when I read them. The first thing a woman wants to do when she sees something she likes is to touch it; only through your fingers can you appreciate the crackle of viscose and the comfort of wool.

But now those signs make perfect sense. What if passers-by wipe their hands on my dresses? All those people are coming through with their polystyrene trays and bags of doughnuts, licking their fingers and – oh look! Convenient!

Maybe I should hand out wet wipes. Would that be rude?

I reposition Dolly so that the blush pink dress is glittering in the weak sunlight and stand guard over her.

David glances at me with a faint half-smile and puts his tools back in a toolbox, wiping each one as he does. He clips the box shut and straightens. I can’t help noticing that his white overalls are miraculously untouched by dirt or sweat. How does he manage that? He faces Dolly thoughtfully. ‘Fern, isn’t this the dress that could be a wedding dress?’

WAH-WAH-WAH! The warning klaxon sounds in my head. ‘Ye-es,’ I reply hesitantly.

‘Don’t tell me! It’s not pink,’ he says, clicking his fingers. ‘It’s flesh, right?’

‘Blush,’ I correct him, blushing. ‘Why?’ I ask nonchalantly. ‘Do you want to buy it?’

‘This is the thing,’ he says. ‘I’m looking for a way to make it up to Gigi for this weekend. As you know, it didn’t exactly work out as she planned.’

I feel a flicker of trepidation – I think I can see the way this is going. Honestly, what’s he like? ‘David, you can’t buy this for her and tell her it’s her wedding dress.’

‘Hear me out! It’s better than that. First, she loves vintage and secondly, I’m going to book Camden Town Hall and arrange to get married to her, as a surprise.’

Arghh! I blame Moss for this; him and his marital advice. ‘No-no-no-no-no! Don’t do that! Gigi won’t like that at all, trust me.’

He looks at me doubtfully. ‘How do you know? No offence, but you told me she’d love the chopping board and we both know how that went.’

‘Yes, okay, I was looking at it from my own perspective, because the chopping board is a thing of startling beauty.’

‘You think?’ he asks, his blue eyes penetrating mine.