Not for the first time, I wonder about their relationship. I’d never in a million years have matched these two up together and yet, it was Gigi who encouraged him to leave his job as a headhunter and follow his dream. Knowing his previous occupation puts him in a different light – like finding out your plumber used to be a professional stuntman.

Gigi’s attention has gone back to Moss. ‘How old is your bride?’ she asks, teasing him.

He looks up at her from under his bushy eyebrows. ‘Over twenty-one,’ he replies seriously.

‘I should hope so,’ Gigi responds and he laughs. ‘You’ve got a big imagination, haven’t you, Moss! That’s what makes a good husband.’

She’s right about that. I’ve never thought about it before, but I could never date a man who has no imagination. But there again, a man can have too much imagination and that’s not helpful either, especially when he imagines you’ll enjoy a naked holiday and never be bothered about clothes again. ‘Her boyfriend’s a woodworker,’ I tell Moss. ‘He makes light boxes.’

Gigi rolls her eyes and I wonder if she’s regretting telling him to follow his dream.

‘I know what he makes. With the stars,’ Moss says, pouring us coffees out of a jug. ‘My wife bought one as a gift for me. Very romantic. Romance is a good quality to bring to a marriage. How long have you two been together?’

‘Almost a year.’ Gigi laughs. ‘Who said it wouldn’t last, eh, Moss?’

‘Almost a year,’ Moss repeats in wonderment.

‘Dave’s a nice guy, very practical. He suits me. I mean, if I want fun I go out with my girlfriends.’ She goes inside the changing room in the corner of the shop and rattles the velvet curtain across.

While she’s trying the dress on, Moss beckons and leans a little closer to me. ‘This is it? Just the one customer? There’s a guy who wants to sell mopeds here and he’ll take over the lease. It’s Hamed’s son.’ He jerks his thumb in the direction of the shop next door. ‘Hamed from the post office.’

‘Yeah?’ I don’t know Hamed from the post office, but I get the feeling that Moss is seriously thinking about it and it’s not just a line.

I’ve come to a thick sludge of coffee at the bottom of the cup, so I put the cup down and run my tongue over my teeth to clean them.

The velvet curtains rattle and Gigi emerges from the changing room carrying the dress. She checks her phone. ‘Got to rush,’ she says. ‘Moss, I’ll come back tomorrow afternoon to pick it up.’ She blows me a kiss and after she’s gone, Moss drapes the dress on the counter, shaking his head ruefully.

‘Almost a year and she’s proud of herself,’ he says, chuckling.