The bearded man is showing him an astronomy app on his phone but despite the app, he hasn’t been able to find Aries in the night sky, a confession he admits to in the worried tone that suggests he blames himself for mislaying it. David tells him to look for Hamal in the autumn – Hamal apparently meaning sheep boy – and he’s pointing it out on a light box, here, the brightest star of Aries. From where I’m standing, the constellation of Aries in the light box is pretty well a straight line. It looks more like a snake than a ram.

I can imagine the ancients lying on the grass looking at the sky. ‘Hey, guys, who else can see a ram?’

‘Yeah, man, it’s a ram, for sure.’

At the back of the shop, Moss is working his way through the rail of dresses waiting to be altered, humming to himself in time with the sewing machine.

I look around for the unhappy-looking woman, but she’s gone, to my regret. Glancing at the rail, I notice … just a minute! Oh, great. The yellow dress has gone, too.

I hurry into the yard in a rush of anger, outraged at what she’s stolen from me, as surely as if she’s taken the money right out of my purse. I want to get hold of her and scream at her and snatch the dress out of her hands but as I spin round, she’s lost in the crowds. I curse her under my breath, knowing that it’s my own fault. I should have kept my eye on her.

I go back to the shop, my heart pounding, trying to get my emotions under control, trying to look on the bright side. Who knows? That dress might be just what she needs. She might put it on, take the rubber band from her hair and find herself smiling …

Dinah shows up just then, wearing a black Susan Small dress with diamante buttons. Very chic. She’s making obscure hand signals at me like a bad mime artist.

‘Morning!’

‘Quiet! Where’s Moss?’ she whispers dramatically.

‘Right there,’ I say.

‘Is he busy?’

‘Yes, but—’

‘No! Don’t call him! This is top secret. Come!’ She puts her reading glasses on and smooths out the travel section of the newspaper on David’s table. ‘Listen to this! “A luxury hotel, set in verdant gardens overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, Belmond Reid’s Palace is the ultimate place to stretch out in the sun and relax.”’ She looks at me brightly over her glasses to gauge the keenness of my interest and continues, ‘“Over the years this luxury hideaway has honed the art of pampering, earning a reputation as one of the best hotels in Funchal.” Five stars, and a pool. You been there?’

‘No, but it sounds wonderful. Luxury hideaway. Pampering.’