‘Now, you are in bother, lass – your mother’s come to check up on you.’ Bert Bannister looked across at his new ward, Jane, who was busy unpacking the latest consignment of Devon Violets perfume and moaning about how much she hated the smell.

‘How’s Jane doing, Bert?’ Isabelle leaned over the packing table and looked at the old man and her daughter, who seemed bored.

‘She’s alright; could perhaps do with working upstairs for a while, in the perfume department, seeing as she loves the scent she is unpacking at the moment.’ Bert grinned at Jane. If her mother had not been there, she would have pulled a face at her instructor, knowing that she could get away with it, as Bert was more a family friend than an employee.

‘I just don’t know why anyone would wish to smell so sickly. It’s so sweet.’ Jane blew the packing straw off yet another bottle and straightened the green ribbon around its neck.

‘Violets were your grandmother’s favourite flowers, along with primroses. She always had to have a bunch on her desk, once spring was upon us.’ Bert looked across at Jane and smiled.

‘You miss her, don’t you, Bert? We all do. In fact, since her death I can’t seem to turn my hand to anything with vigour,’ Isabelle confessed.

‘It’s only to be expected; she held everyone together and was always there for them. A good woman, that’s what she was.’ Bert shook his head as he thought about days past.

‘I’ve some good news anyway, Bert. Harriet and her family are visiting us on Wednesday. James is to take a family photograph, and then I hope to try and persuade Harriet that the firm still needs her.’ Isabelle looked around her and watched as a carter dropped off his load for Bert and his small team to unload and unpack. Bert just had to look at the two warehouse men for them to know what was expected of them.

‘It will be good to see Miss Harriet back with us. It’s what your mother would have wanted. How old is her youngest now? I lose track of time.’ He looked across at Isabelle, remembering when the two sisters-in-law used to work together.

‘She’s one next week. That’s why I thought a photograph of the children was apt.’ Isabelle smiled.