As if by magic, Lily appeared downstairs as punctually as she had promised. She had even attempted to tame her wild mane, which hung loosely around her shoulders. Reluctantly, she agreed to adhere to society’s idea of ‘appropriate attire’ while she worked in the shop, which included battling with a corset and lacing herself into constricting gowns. But the one thing Lily absolutely refused to do was tie up her hair. ‘There’s no point even trying,’ she’d say whenever her uncle commented on the impropriety of it. ‘You know it would fight its way out of the pins and end up looking like an unfortunate bird’s nest anyway.’ And, with a begrudging sigh, her uncle would agree. The compromise they had settled upon was that Lily would try to make her hair at least look neat – or, as neat as she could manage. Today, she had created a makeshift hairband from an old leather scrap, which she had used to push the curls away from her face, keeping the corkscrews out of her eyes so she could work without her vision obscured.

As punctual as ever, Lily unlocked the front door of the shop and fastened it open so the cool autumn breeze could dance around the room. Perching herself at the workbench, she tucked a pencil behind her ear and began to organise and bottle up the orders that were due to be collected.

As she was preparing a bitter-smelling remedy she had recently concocted to ease the pain of a gout sufferer who lived in a nearby hamlet on the edge of the town, her uncle appeared from the storeroom behind her.

‘Ah, you’re already down!’ Uncle Alf exclaimed, as if Lily didn’t surprise him with her punctuality every morning. ‘Good, well, stop what you’re doing because you’re out on deliveries today.’ Lily let out a melodramatic sigh and buried her head in her hands. ‘Pull yourself together, child, Frank has a sick mother to look after as well as three younger siblings, which is why he will be late in today. Count yourself lucky.’

‘Do I really have to?’ Lily asked, slowly lifting her head from her arms. ‘You know old Orla has been dying to clip me around the ear ever since she caught me picking figs from her tree last week.’

‘Well, if she does,’ Uncle Alf smirked, ‘I might just have to let slip to Jemima Darroch exactly which remedies Orla has on order, and you know Jemima can’t be trusted with gossip like that!’ He let out a belly laugh at his own mischief and his cheeks glowed red under his speckled grey beard. Lily often felt her penchant for mischief came directly from her uncle. He was her father’s brother, and he had taken her in without a second thought when she was six years old, after her parents’ untimely deaths. They had been encouraging each other’s mischievousness ever since.

‘Ha!’ Lily exclaimed, ‘and you berate me for insensitivity!’ Lily continued with just the slightest flicker of devilry in her eyes. ‘Just because Orla has an issue with incontin—’