“No you’re not,” he said. “Emma’s an orthopedic nurse’s shoe. You’re Josephine. And Josephine size five is you. Come on, try her on, I haven’t got all day.”

Before Emma knew it, she was sitting on a chair, her leg extended.

“You’re an eldest, aren’t you?” he said. “I can always spot ’em, ’cause I was one myself. Bleeding pain in the neck, wasn’t it? Be a big boy, share your toys, set an example, lucky I had sisters, can you imagine me setting an example to boys? I said to my mum once, I said, ‘Mum, I’m only six,’ she said, ‘So what, your sister’s only three and there’ll be another one soon who’s younger still.’ I thought, Oh, great, just what I need. But the thing about being an eldest is, oh, Josephine. Oh, Josephine. Oh, Josephine.”

The shoe was on Emma’s foot. It was, quite simply, spectacular.

“You can’t have her yet,” he said. “I’ve got to savor the moment. I deserve this after what I’ve been through this afternoon. Oh, Josephine.”

“I’m not going to have her at all,” said Emma. “I keep telling you, I can’t afford it.”

“I can’t savor for too long,” he said. “I’ve got to get home for Come Dine with Me. But just give me a moment, okay? Me and Josephine.”

“I’m taking them off now,” said Emma. “Then I’m going home. It’s been nice talking to you, but this is just not in my budget.”

He looked up at her sharply. “Don’t toy with me, Josephine,” he said. “Size five was made for you. If you can afford a refrigerator, you can afford a shoe.”

“That’s just the point,” she said. “I can’t afford both. You might not understand that, but your mum would.”

“That’s why my mum has a credit card,” he said.

Emma looked down at the shoes on her feet. The straps wound delicately around her toes, and she noticed for the first time that at the center of each rosette was sewn a tiny seed pearl.

Moving briskly, Nigel-Manolete removed the Josephine, strode to the counter, and held out his hand. “Come along,” he said. “Give it over. Like I said, I haven’t got all day.”

As if she were watching from a great height, Emma saw herself remove from the fold of her wallet the never-yet-used credit card and surrender it to him.

“Good girl.” Nigel-Manolete nodded approvingly. “Now just put your PIN in while I wrap her up. Good-bye, Josephine Size Five, you lucky little darling, aren’t you happy I rescued you from tree trunks back then? I do love a happy ending, don’t you, Josephine? There you go, take her home with you, and I don’t want you coming back with second thoughts, because I’d laugh in your face, okay? In your face.”

“How do you know I won’t sell them on?” Emma attempted weakly. “To someone who can afford them?”

“You, sell the Josephine? Oh, Josephine Size Five, she’s a laugh a minute, isn’t she?” He gave the stiff paper bag a last, affectionate pat, and handed it over. “Now, I don’t want to see you coming into the shop again, Josephine,” he said, “because you’re right, you can’t afford to shop here regular, and I might not be able to control myself and it might all lead to ruination like in West Side Story. But I want you walking past as often as you can in your nice little short skirts with your lovely legs, and we’ll wave as you go by. And I want you to treat the Josephine right, which I know you will, and to have a wonderful wedding day, which I know you will, too, and to have fun buying the fridge, too, if that’s something that rings your jingle bells, ’cause we all need them rung whatever way we can. Bye, Josephine.”