‘I’m not interested in The One who proposes to a random stranger in a random bar on a random Friday night in November. I’m not interested in anyone, you know that. I’m off men. Off relationships. Off getting my heart stamped on. For good. Right now, all I’m interested in is keeping this job so I can fund my design business and the night classes for the kids. Accepting marriage proposals or dating is lower on my to-do list than getting a root canal.’ She hit the reconcile button on the till and frowned. ‘And we’re twelve pounds seventy-five pence down.’

‘Ah, yes.’

She felt Sara’s eyes on her. ‘Ah, yes, what?’

Her friend nodded and her eyes grew sad as she leaned on the mop handle. ‘Peter.’

‘Oh, and here I was thinking you were going to give me a rational explanation as to why we’re over twelve quid short’ – Victoria shuddered at the mention of her ex’s name – ‘not bring him up. What about him?’

Sara’s hand was now on Victoria’s back, gentle. Supportive. ‘He did a number on you, sure, but why you let that sleazebag have such an influence over you even now I don’t know.’

‘Er… because he taught me a very good life lesson: never trust anyone.’ And never tell them your innermost secrets and doubts, because they’ll use them against you when you least expect it.

‘You were hurt, love. But you have to forget him and move on.’

‘I am well and truly over him. To be honest, I don’t think I ever really loved him, but just when I think I’m over all that – the expectation and the lost time – he parades his new fiancée in front of me as if he’s just won the lottery and all I was to him was some sort of temporary booby prize.’

‘Sleazebag. Although you do have a damned fine rack, girlfriend.’ Sara laughed. ‘And that is something I do know a lot about.’

‘OK, enough already.’ Laughing, Victoria caught a quick look of herself in the mirror behind the bar. Hair smooth, shiny and still in place. Lipstick also still in place. Cat eyeliner… perfect. Boobs enhanced by the dress she’d finished making this morning. Yes, she was looking good today. But she tried to look her best every day in the clothes she fashioned for herself – as a kind of walking showcase of her design talents. She wanted people to look at her clothes, to enquire about her dresses, maybe commission some vintage-inspired pieces.

And he’d been looking. She should probably take a proposal from a gorgeous man as a compliment, right? Just a compliment. ‘I’m done talking about men. Past or present.’