Netta scurried to find their largest sample of ‘Margaret Rose’. Maudie whisked away the ‘Aurora’ and guided Elsie into the new dress and jacket, emphasising all its good points. ‘It’s a generous cut, with three-quarter sleeves and a plain neckline. Ideal with jewellery, don’t you think?’ She stood back to admire the effect. ‘We can start with this and add any details you require.’

The art of selling was simple; a dress was bought not sold. But this one was even worse than the first. Netta noted with disappointment that it was even less flattering on Elsie’s sturdy hips and there were plenty of Batley pearls and clasps to emphasise her bulging bosom. Elsie was smiling as she twirled before the carefully chosen flattering mirror ordered especially for the cubicles to lengthen the figure.

‘You know, Jeanette, you’re right as usual, this drains me too. I could get some wear out of it for parties if it were a better shade, happen, but I’m not sure… It always cheers me up, coming in here, to have your honest opinion. I’ll call back when yer new stock comes in and try again, happen. Cheery bye.’

Silence thundered in the cubicle as Netta gathered up the outfit.

‘How dare you lose us that sale, Jeanette? She would have taken the first one but for your big mouth!’ hissed Miss Venables after Elsie’s departure.

‘But it didn’t suit her and she’s a nice lady. It’s her big day, surely she has the right to look her best?’

‘My clients are grateful to know that our label is in the back of their dresses. That’s sufficient in itself. These days people are grateful for what’s on offer. Giving them too much choice only confuses them. You have been very disobedient. I’ve a good mind to give you your notice…’ Miss Venables paused, arms folded, waiting for her menial to grovel in repentance.

‘And I’ve got a good mind to snap your mean hand off and take it! How can you face your conscience, knowing that Dorelle’s is famous in Griseley for its three Ds: designs as dull as dishwater fit only for the three Bs-batty, boring old biddies!’

‘Get your coat on this minute, you impudent hussy, and never darken my door again.’

‘It’ll be a pleasure. And regards to “our father”. He still seems to be running the show from the other side.’

Netta flounced into the autumn rain with a flourish. How sweet the air was after the staleness inside. Then she stood stock still, sweating. What had she gone and done? But nothing would induce her to step back inside and as she hurried along the pavement, not looking, she bumped straight into Elsie Cumberbatch, coming out of the bakery clutching a bag to her bosom. They collided.