‘Sorry, Kim,’ she says. ‘Didn’t mean to laugh. I wasn’t laughing at you. Politically incorrect and all that. It’s just …’ Another giggle escapes. ‘It’s as if you had the vapours.’

‘The vapours?’

‘Swooning. Like a Victorian heroine in her corsets.’

‘I shouldn’t have sat down in it. I shouldn’t have had the tea.’ I shouldn’t have worn Enid’s dress. Reluctantly, I force myself to look at her through my shame and I ask, ‘What’s going to happen now?’

‘In what way?’

I stare at her for a moment. ‘People talking.’

She raises her eyebrows again and blows out sharply through her nose.

I’ve offended her. I watch her drink her tea. Soon, the cup will be empty and she’ll go. I can’t wait for her to go.

She puts the cup carefully down on Enid’s favourite coaster, which has a blue sailboat on it. ‘Shall I tell you the secret to happiness, Kim?’

‘Go on.’

‘You’ve got to move with the times.’

‘Move with the times,’ I repeat.

‘Nobody cares about this sort of thing anymore, Kim. It’s different now. Things have changed. Boys can wear skirts as part of their school uniform. Where have you been for the past few years?’

I’ve been here, with Enid. ‘I didn’t think that sort of thing had anything to do with me,’ I tell her.

‘Never mind. It’s never too late to learn,’ she says, getting to her feet. She glances at me and presses her lips together, squeezing back a smile. ‘Although, if you’re going to make a habit of it, you might want to buy yourself clothes that fit.’

Her kindness fills me with gratitude and I nod, seeing her face through a film of tears.

‘Don’t forget to eat the lasagne. Keep your strength up,’ she advises.

After she’s gone, I eat the lasagne, but my shame still hangs over me and I’ve got an evening to fill, so I empty Enid’s wardrobe into black bin bags and call Cato Hamilton.

Delivering myself from temptation, Enid would say.

LOT 8

Black velvet opera cape with large padded collar and pink silk lining, hook fastening, full-length, circa 1936, unlabelled.

Now that Moss has magically and skilfully restored my dresses and suits to their former glory, business has picked up again. Before I restock on Friday night, I spray the flat with Moth Stop, because when I opened my wardrobe door a movement caught my eye and to my horror, I saw a little brown moth fluttering out of sight into a wool jacket.