Annoyingly, Noah is right. The pink suits my skin tone. They are me.

I have an impulsive urge to rush out and show him. But I don’t. I give them one last stroke before they’re popped into a bag.

***

‘Oh my God you’ve got legs!’ And just like that, the jokey version of Noah is back, and it is so unexpected and nice it makes me grin. There are definitely certain sides to him that are nothing at all like my dad.

‘I’d fall over otherwise!’ I grin, then pause. ‘Not too short?’

‘What do you think?’

I shake my head slowly. It doesn’t feel too short. ‘It feels just right.’

After our lingerie shop experience, we’d wandered down the high street until I’d stopped abruptly because of the dress. You know how sometimes you can spot clothes that you instantly fall in love with, but then tell yourself that they’re too expensive, you’d never wear them, your boyfriend wouldn’t like them or something like that? Normally I’d stare for a few minutes, then walk on. But today, with Noah by my side, it’s different.

Clothes shopping with Noah is amazing. ‘Go on, try it. You know you want to!’ He’d nudged me.

‘I suppose I could, I mean I don’t have to buy it.’

‘True.’

Okay I admit that my standards might have slipped, I wear nice not sexy. Lived in. Com-for-table. I like that word. It is one of my favourites. Even the sound of it is nice. Relaxing.

I guess when I was younger, I did make an effort. But you don’t really think ‘sexy’ when you’ve been with the same guy forever, do you? I’ve never had to put a massive effort in to impress anybody. I’ve forgotten how much I used to enjoy dressing up, looking good, feeling good about myself. Robbie never even seemed to notice what I was wearing, how I looked.

And his mum, though wonderful in so many ways, wasn’t exactly a style guru. She was more interested in crocheting cardigans for poorly animals.

But Noah does care how I look. And now I am wearing this beautiful dress, I can’t help but show him.

‘If it feels right then it is right. Sensational legs!’ He whistles, which makes me strangely pleased. So I dive back into the changing room and study my legs.

We do a tour of town. Shops I’ve never been in – I tend to buy off the internet, it’s easy, no embarrassing changing rooms, no wasted time huffing and puffing and feeling hot and bothered. And I know what I like, what fits me.

Apparently though, now I’ve been let loose and encouraged by Noah, I seem to have discovered that what I like and what I need are two different things.

‘Bloody hell!’ shouts Bea, as I stagger back into the bookshop fighting a losing battle with all my carrier bags.

‘Sorry I’m a bit late,’ I say breathlessly. I can’t get near my watch to see the time, but it has to be late.