I work until late morning and when I hear voices at the front of the shop, I assume that they’re customers of David’s. But after a few minutes, to my delight, Kim appears. He’s wearing a lemon cotton skirt suit with boat shoes and he looks as refreshing as a cold drink. I switch off the sewing machine, straighten up and rub my back. He’s got two well-dressed friends with him, and he introduces them as Betty and Mercia. The three of them look wonderfully fresh and summery.

‘We’re having lunch on the My Fair Lady restaurant boat at Walker’s Quay and we thought we’d drop by to say hello,’ Kim says. ‘Any news on Moss? David tells me he’s in hospital.’

I fill him in on recent events and he’s shocked.

‘She was burning her lovely suits?’ he asks avidly, then he turns to the two women to explain. ‘Dinah’s the most stylish woman you could ever meet. Who cares if her suits aren’t really Chanel? I’d buy them.’

‘I always buy Hobbs,’ Betty says. ‘I like a print. This is Hobbs,’ she says, holding out the skirt of the dress as if she’s about to curtsy. ‘Mercia can’t wear Hobbs. You can’t wear Hobbs, can you, Mercia?’

‘I’m too short for Hobbs. They give me a hump. I need a petite in dresses. I’m short-waisted.’ Mercia catches sight of herself in the mirror in the dressing room and turns sideways on. ‘No hump, you see?’ She glances at her watch. ‘Kim, we’ve got plenty of time before embarking, so we’re going to browse,’ she says.

While she and Betty look through the rails, Kim sits on the edge of the table and asks which hospital Moss is in.

‘The Royal Free,’ I tell him.

‘Are you going to see him tonight?’

‘Yes, I’m going to call in after work.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ he says, suddenly distracted by Betty and Mercia going into the dressing room with several dresses each.

We watch the curtains bulge out occasionally as they get changed and then they push aside the curtain for the big reveal, posing with aplomb.

Betty comes out wearing a black-and-white gingham check shirtwaister. Mercia’s found an orange cheesecloth kaftan with turquoise beading at the neck that doesn’t give her a hump.

Kim claps in admiration. ‘My word! You look like models,’ he says fondly.

To my happy surprise, bearing in mind they were browsing, they buy the dresses.

I wrap up their new purchases and get out the card machine. They pay and sign the client book and off they go for lunch, with Kim gallantly carrying their bags, his lemon skirt billowing in the breeze.