Also, she wouldn’t know everyone else exhibiting. At one of her usual shows she would meet loads of old friends, fellow weavers, spinners, knitters and producers of wool and yarn. Apart from Amy, she wouldn’t know anyone at Springtime. The other people could be snooty and not deign to talk to a humble worker in wool.

At least the event was really well signposted, she thought with relief as she arrived. She found the exhibitors’ car park, near the back entrance to the building, and waiting for her was Amy.

‘I knew you’d be early,’ she said as Helena got out of the pickup. ‘So I made sure I was earlier. Jago not with you?’

‘No. He had to be somewhere else. He lent me his pickup though.’

‘I can see that,’ said Amy.

Helena felt a bit on the defensive. She thought she ought to defend Jago for being an unsupportive boyfriend when he wasn’t actually her boyfriend and was actually very supportive. ‘Let’s get into the building,’ she said instead.

Helena’s stall was in a long gallery, with floor-length windows all down one side. The other side was panelled wood with a stuccoed ceiling. It was incredibly beautiful and originally designed (said a helpful notice) for women of the house to walk in for exercise when inclement weather made the garden unsuitable. Helena was very pleased with her spot. It was near enough the entrance so people wouldn’t be tired by the time they’d got as far as her and yet not so near the door that people would just plunge on past, assuming the better items were further in.

‘I’m afraid I have to push off to my stall when we’re set up,’ said Amy during one of the trips from the pickup to Helena’s spot. ‘But mine won’t take as long. We’ve got time to make it all look nice.’

Helena smiled. She didn’t say that she was perfectly capable of making it all look nice herself because Amy was very good at it and she was grateful for her help. And Amy had got this gig for her and although Helena was fairly terrified at the moment, she knew she’d settle once she was in. As far as she could tell (no one was fully installed yet) she had a goldsmith on one side and a leather worker on the other. Both of her neighbours had really lovely pieces on display.

‘Would you like me to look after your credit card for you?’ she said to Amy before she left to set up her own stall. ‘How else will you avoid losing control of your spending?’

Amy looked longingly at a bright yellow handbag in butter-soft leather with gold buckles. It was open, revealing a contrasting silk interior. ‘I may have to buy that right now.’