A cluster of patent leather shoulder bags hangs from a hook on the door like a bouquet of cartoon flowers. There are embroidered corduroy flares, brightly patched denim hot pants and rainbow-striped skinny-ribbed sweaters. A flurry of hippie dresses arrived a few days ago, with prints varying from swirling Paisley patterns to oversized daisies. On Spencer’s bed lies an array of accessories: stripy knee-high socks, suede belts, patterned headbands and all manner of headwear from a pink peaked cap to a lime green floppy hat with fake poppies attached.

On the floor, the footwear is neatly paired up in rows: boots, sandals and platform shoes, the latter of which fascinated Izzy when they arrived by courier. I let her try them on and have a clomp about, but playing with the rest of the pieces is not allowed, which she accepted with only a minor sulk. I can’t face trying to keep track of it all, on top of everything else. I know from past experience that a simple dressing-up session in Izzy’s bedroom can quickly morph into feather boas and capes being discovered, weeks later, rain-sodden and smeared by slugs at the bottom of the garden.

‘How have you managed to get so much stuff?’ Nick marvels, studying each item in turn.

‘With an enormous amount of phoning and emailing,’ I explain. ‘Isla helped with that. We worked our way through my list of vintage shops, starting with Glasgow, then radiating out until we’d covered pretty much the whole of Scotland. Then, gradually, we worked our way across the north of England.’

‘Amazing,’ he murmurs.

‘We still have a long way to go,’ I add. ‘I have the Midlands to cover next, then Wales, London, the South-East, the South-West …’

‘I can help too. I’m around for a good while yet, so please give me lists and instructions. Tell me what to do.’

I chuckle. ‘I definitely will. The more help the better, really.’

He shakes his head in wonderment as he examines a fringed red suede waistcoat. ‘I still can’t imagine how you’ve managed to do all of this. It’s incredible.’

‘It sort of gathered momentum,’ I explain. ‘Maybe it’s because it’s been so long since I’ve been able to really throw myself into something creative, you know?’ He nods. ‘I mean, it’s been years really, since my theatre days. Although I am a little sleep-deprived,’ I add with a grin, indicating an eye bag. ‘Can you tell?’

‘No, I can’t,’ he says, laughing. ‘Not at all. So, when you tracked down the clothes, were the shop owners cooperative? About sending them to you, I mean?’

‘Mostly, yes. I managed to blag a small budget from Hannah at the museum, so we’ve been able to cover postage and courier costs. Some pieces, I’ve collected in person if they’ve just been across town.’

‘So they’re all on loan?’ Nick asks.