James watched as his son made his way out into the blazing early summer’s heat. He quickly made his way up the three flights of stairs to the fitting room with the news that would change everyone’s world.

He glanced around the fitting room at the young bride, who was flushed with excitement as Isabelle – the owner of Atkinson’s and his wife, and Luke’s mother – swiftly made adjustments to the beautiful bridal gown, while Isabelle’s assistant held a measuring tape. The bride stood admiring her own reflection in the full-length mirrors that surrounded the walls of the room, as tucks and pleats were added.

‘I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’m afraid I have some grave news. Isabelle, my love – our Luke is here! He’s come to take you home. Your mother’s been taken ill.’ James took the box of pins out of his wife’s hand and placed his hand round her waist. ‘Your father woke up to find her barely able to move this morning. The doctor says she’s had a severe stroke.’ James looked at his wife and watched as she struggled to take in the news. He glanced apologetically at the crestfallen bride-to-be.

Isabelle caught her breath and James could see tears welling in her eyes. She glanced quickly at her assistant. ‘I’m sorry, I must go. My poor mama, I must go to her.’ She looked again at the young bride for whom she had been taking a fitting, and then thrust the box of pins into the hands of Madge Burton, her new seamstress.

‘Luke is outside – he’s waiting with a horse and trap. I did tell him to change his horse for a fresh one from the Red Lion, as he insists he will take you home, so I hope he’s done as I bade him. Take your parasol; the sun is so strong today. Don’t worry about anything here. I’ll see to closing the store and will be with you as soon as I can. And, Isabelle, be strong; be there for your father, as he will need you before this day is over.’

Isabelle could feel her body trembling as her husband helped her down the stairs and half-heard the bride-to-be complaining that she had been promised Miss Isabelle for her fitting, and that being left with her understudy was most unsatisfactory. Stupid woman, she thought. Had she not heard: her mother was dying! Her dear, darling mother, who had been there for Isabelle every day of her life; the least she could do was be there for her now.

The shop floors were hushed as Isabelle was escorted quickly past the concerned shop girls, the bad news spreading rapidly as they watched with empathy their employer join her son.