For a moment I have a brief fantasy that we’ll bond over this dress, that this’ll be the moment our relationship changes and she begins to understand the way I feel about my clothes.

But she drops it on the sofa as if she wishes she’d used tongs and tightens up her mouth in distaste.

‘I’ll have the jacket,’ I tell Cato and we fold the rest of the clothes back into the bin bag. I walk with him up the steps and pay him for the jacket by his van, out of earshot of my mother.

‘The business not working for you?’ he asks.

‘It’s not that; it’s going all right, actually. It’s just that I need something a bit more stable because I need to get another place, before we drive each other crazy.’

‘Sorry to hear that. It’s a shame.’

‘Fern?’ I can hear my mother calling again.

He fist-bumps me and gets into the van.

Back in the flat, my mother’s annoyed that I went outside with Cato, so I put the brown belted jacket back on and look at myself in the mirror to calm myself, reinvented once more.

LOT 25

A post-war make-do-and-mend parachute silk wedding dress, 1949, fit and flare, with long sleeves, sweetheart neckline, short train. Size 8/34

I’m kneeling on the floor in the shop wearing a neon pink dress that outdazzles me, neatly marking out Closing Down Sale on the reverse of the Bespoke Tailoring and Alterations sign, when Alexa and Jenna turn up bright and breezy in sports gear, hugging David like a long-lost friend. I get to my feet awkwardly, not sure what to expect after Alexa’s previous visit.

‘Where are you off to?’ David asks them.

‘We’ve just come from Pilates,’ they say together.

‘We’ve got a new teacher,’ Jenna adds. ‘Gigi’s gone to Spain.’

‘And not with Max, either,’ Alexa adds.

David rubs the edge of his jaw and his eyes narrow. ‘I know. I heard.’

Alexa turns to me. ‘Fern, I’m sorry I was such a bitch last time we met,’ she says. ‘Emotionally, I was a mess.’

‘She’s not usually like that,’ Jenna says. ‘It’s been on her conscience.’

‘It has,’ Alexa agrees.

‘Oh, sure, yes, that’s okay, forget it,’ I say, trying not to wonder how David knows Gigi’s in Spain. Not that it’s any of my business, obviously.

‘Max wants to come back home,’ Alexa says.

‘What an idiot,’ Jenna comments, but there’s a wistfulness in Alexa’s eyes that tells me she’s thinking about it.

‘Bloody hell, it’s the runaway bride,’ Alexa says suddenly, pointing across the yard.