Reviled. For a moment the idea of not being alone in this consoles me. ‘They called me an idiot and said I had a terrible hat. It was the Schiaparelli turban,’ I explain, waiting for her to join me in my indignation. ‘And then a woman thought I was begging and put a pound in it.’

The fine dark arches of her eyebrows twitch briefly. She gives a faint smile and says softly, ‘Kim, you’re a very lucky man.’

‘Lucky?’ This isn’t what I want to hear at all. ‘How can you say that? I’m weak! Wait here …’ I dash upstairs to fetch the blue dress and I bring it back down and lay it on her knee. The sheen of the blue satin is dazzling in the sunshine. ‘I’m going to give it all up, this side of me. It’s the only thing to do, isn’t it?’

‘This is the dress that Fern sold you?’ She gently straightens the broken feathers.

‘Yes!’ I try to stop my voice from trembling.

‘This is the blue dress that delighted you so much that you wrote a letter of praise about her to the store?’

‘Oh, Fern told you that?’ I feel enormously pleased that Dinah knows this side of me. It’s important to be grateful. It shows me in a good light.

‘Let me tell you, that letter of praise got Fern fired from her job.’

I’m mortified. ‘What? Why? She’s never mentioned it!’

‘She sold it to you privately from her own collection, didn’t she? So you see, for that reason, you should value it more, not because of what it cost you, but because of what it cost her. Listen to me. You asked me to be your moral compass but you’re a nice man and I’m sure your morals are fine. Sensible? Now that I can help you with. The world is full of other people, and in the same way that you like some of them and you don’t like others, and you judge some and you don’t judge others, you, yourself, are going to be liked and disliked and judged and unjudged. What for? If it’s not your turban, it might be your age, or your religion, or your culture, or your accent. It’s not fair, but that’s the way it is.’

She says it with great seriousness, veined hands tightly clasped on the dress on her lap, as if this is something she’s dwelt upon in depth and made her peace with.

The silence of the room rings in my ears and I have the strangest sensation I’m shrinking, as if some unconscious realisation of what she’s saying is putting me into perspective, as a small man with small problems. Reviled. ‘Are you a … are you Jewish?’