‘Oh dear. What a pity.’ Isobel looked crushed, disappointed that anyone–even Erica–should use language like that in her little palace of delights. But she got over the unintentional slight almost immediately, and with a bright smile said, ‘Just try one of these.’ She lifted up a lavender cream with her little steel tongs and handed it over the top of the plate-glass dome of the counter.

Erica gave in. ‘Oh, just the one then.’ She popped it in her mouth, made appreciative cooing noises that she knew would placate Isobel, and for the next thirty seconds was unable to address the matter she’d come about.

Isobel, always thrilled when a customer expressed admiration of her efforts, went into a little shudder of ecstasy and suppressed giggles, and the amber hair piled upon her head, after the fashion of a walnut whip, quivered in time with her body.

Finally Erica managed to swallow, and to bestow the final acclamation, ‘Wonderful, Isobel, I don’t know how you do it.’

‘Just years of practice you know,’ purred Isobel, allowing just a note of self-satisfaction to creep into her voice.

Erica cleared her throat. ‘Isobel, have you just had that man in?’

‘What man, dear?’ She went back to putting her chocolates into their little boxes.

‘The one in the black anorak. To do with some co-operative or other.’

‘Oh, him. Yes.’ Isobel stopped what she was doing. ‘Didn’t like him at all.’ Isobel didn’t look serious very often, but she did now. ‘Something very odd about him.’

‘Did he ask you about joining his co-operative?’

‘Yes he did. As if I could afford to.’

‘Do you mind me asking what he wanted you to pay?’

‘It was quite ridiculous. He wanted a hundred-and-fifty pounds a month. Well, I mean that’s just silly isn’t it, dear? I couldn’t possibly afford that. I know my chocolates are not exactly cheap, but I don’t have that sort of profit margin.’

‘So what did you say?’

‘I sent him packing with a flea in his ear, I’m afraid. I don’t like to be rude but he was so persistent, and to be perfectly honest, Erica, I was getting a bit rattled. He didn’t seem to take no for an answer. Anyway, fortunately a customer came in and he sloped off. I shouldn’t think I’ll see him again. I think he got the message.’

‘Yes.’

Isobel asked, ‘Did you join, then?’

‘No,’ replied Erica, distractedly. ‘No, I didn’t. But he said he’d come back, so I don’t think he’s given up on me.’

‘Oh dear! Well, good luck. And if you take my advice you’ll do what I did and tell him where to get off next time.’

‘Yes. Yes, I will. I’ll tell him where to get off.’