‘Oh, pardon me, I’m most terribly sorry,’ Angie said contritely, but with sarcasm spiking her voice. She moved on with exaggerated care to look at a shelf of pot-pourri containers. The assistant hovered, almost as though daring her to touch another thing, but Angie just minced sedately along the shelf, with her hands linked behind her back. Her eyes were wide and innocent and her lower lip tucked behind her teeth. It was as though she were miming the role of a good obedient child, but the overall impression was one of impudence.

‘Angie, how about we go and grab something to eat, a sandwich or something?’ Seymour whispered uneasily. ‘And you could buy your mum a pot plant instead. They have them at that market near Victoria Road, don’t they? It’s all too dear, this stuff.’

‘I haven’t finished looking yet, even though they think we’re not good enough for their old shop,’ Angie said, not troubling to lower her voice.

‘If we haven’t anything to suit you, I suggest you try elsewhere,’ the assistant said coldly, and turned to attend to other customers who’d just come in.

Seymour, crimson, tugged Angie towards the door. She took her time getting there, dropping her bag halfway and shaking him off when he bent to help her pick up her scattered possessions. Almost through the door, she stopped and called, ‘Hey, Miss!’ The assistant frowned at her in exasperation. ‘Your bra strap’s showing, did you know? Wow, some bra, looks like a parachute harness!’ Angie said, stuck her tongue out, then grabbed Seymour’s hand and hurried him back through the courtyard. ‘Did you see her face?’she gloated. ‘Serves the sour old thing right, the way she was looking down her nose at us! You just wait, one day I’m going to set up my florist shop right next door to her crappy old place, and I’ll have a whole section stocked with gifts much better than hers, and put her right out of business!’

‘Angie, honest, you shouldn’t have given her cheek like that!’ Seymour said, being bundled on to a tram with no explanation. ‘And where are we off to now? This goes back into town, doesn’t it?’

‘Sure does, and I’m going to shout you lunch at McDonald’s.’

Angie settled back on the tram seat, smiling secretively to herself and apparently unrepentant about being rude to the shop assistant. She took out a nail file and began to smooth her nails.