Seymour felt embarrassed, but because she plainly expected an opinion from him, he nodded. He thought she must have good legs, the way people turned around to look at her. Again, he couldn’t help noticing how they all did that, even though they pretended not to be staring, but Angie seemed sunnily unaware of it. Glamorous people, he supposed, must become used to people turning their heads to look, even bored by it.

‘Let’s go and check out that gift shop,’ Angie said. ‘I’ve got to get my mum a birthday present and you can help me choose it. It was her birthday last month, but I was…Well, it’s a long story, but the fact is I never got around to buying her a present. So I want to get something really special now to make up.’

The gift shop was lined with glass shelves holding splendid things—china platters, carved wooden fruit, crystals, embossed-leather writing folders and boxes of wonderful stationery. There was a small long-stemmed rose, intricately fashioned from gold metal, complete with gold thorns and leaves and a dewdrop resting on one petal. It lay all by itself on a coral velvet board.

‘There you are, Angie!’ Seymour said. ‘Why don’t you get that for your mum? It’s just right, you being a florist.’

‘That rose? Yes, it’s gorgeous…but hang on, look what it says on the price label, for heaven’s sake!’

A shop assistant came over to them, wanting to know if they required help. ‘May I show you anything in particular?’ she said austerely, and Seymour could sense her eyes flicking at him briefly, but nonetheless taking in every detail of his shabby jeans, his cheap sandals and shirt, then dismissing him altogether and switching attention to Angela, eyes narrowed. Jealous, Seymour thought defensively. She’s just dead jealous of Angie being so pretty and wearing clothes no one else has.

‘We’re just looking,’ Angie said, apparently not at all bothered by such scrutiny. She knelt to rummage about in a basket of soap, picking one up and sniffing it appreciatively, then handing it to Seymour.

‘Please don’t touch the displays,’ the assistant said.

‘But how am I supposed to know if I like the smell or not?’ Angie said. ‘We’re not hurting anything. How could you possibly damage a cake of soap just touching it?’

‘That’s not the point. The sign up there says not to handle the items on display. They’ve all been carefully arranged.’