‘See?’ she says to me triumphantly. ‘Listen to him! It’s romantic!’

‘You must have practically been a child when you married,’ he says.

Maybe Dinah’s right. Maybe I should let him into my heart instead of standing here cynically rolling my eyes.

‘I want you to come with me to the auction house to get them valued. You understand what I want?’ Dinah says, rubbing her thumb and forefinger together. ‘Maximum bucks for this holiday. You know the woman. You’ll see she gives me a fair price?’

‘Hang on, she’s not buying them from you, it’s up to the buyers bidding on the day.’

The sewing machine falls silent. David looks up. ‘Quick! Moss is coming!’ he says and he snatches up the travel section, folds it hastily and tucks it under his arm, and we stand around wearing our most innocent expressions.

‘Dahlink!’ Dinah says to her husband, arms wide and all smiles.

‘My bride!’

The deceit of it.

A group of girls comes in and they tell me they’re Daisy’s friends, and can they, too, have a student discount? One of them buys a red organza top and as soon as they’ve gone, and Moss is back at his machine, Dinah says firmly, ‘So, the Chanel. I have many Chanel suits – I’m not going to miss a couple of them. Tell me, are you in?’

I’ve got a bad feeling about both it and love in general, to be honest.

David’s holding up the travel supplement and Dinah’s watching me, arms folded, so influenced by peer pressure, I agree to get involved, against my better judgement, in the plan to fund the platinum anniversary gift.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited by my impending proximity to so much Chanel. I make an appointment with Tallulah Young to have Dinah’s suits valued.

The sun is out and David has moved into the shade. He’s eating a salad out of a Tupperware bowl and balancing the lid of his flask on his book. He looks slightly more cheerful today, as if he’s starting to feel better after a long illness. The reappearance of the flask is a good sign, I think.

‘Has Dinah really got enough clothes to convert into a holiday for two?’ he asks.

I pull my stool up to sit next to him. ‘Absolutely. She could go on a world cruise, if she wanted. Unbelievable. Worth an absolute fortune.’

‘Vintage?’

‘Haute couture.’

He laughs then puts the lid back on his salad, pours us both a coffee and looks at me curiously. The light stripes his tanned cheekbone.

‘How did Moss make his money? Do you know?’