‘I've got several bits and pieces actually. My friend was going to give them to a jumble sale but I asked if I could have a go at repairing them. I thought I'd start with the mirror.'

‘You didn't bring it with you?'

‘No, I'm afraid not.' She looked around her, fascinated by the shelves filled with strange-sounding products: gesso, rabbit-skin size and something that seemed to be called rottenstone, although she thought she'd probably misread that.

‘Was it his only foot?’

Jo was puzzled. 'Well, no, he had two originally.’

‘That's good. Then what you need to do is take a mould of the existing foot, rejig the toes a little, then stick it on.’

‘How would I do that?'

‘Well, you could use a little plaster of Paris, if that's what you used to make the foot. Or, if you used a patent moulding material, you might want to glue it.'

‘So, how would I take the mould in the first place?' Jo felt herself getting more and more interested.

‘Well, you have two options. You could take a mould of the existing foot, using Plasticine, or latex moulding powder.'

‘It all sounds very complicated.'

‘It isn't really, once you get started,' the man reassured her. 'It's rather fun.' He twinkled at her as if confessing a secret. 'I repair bits and pieces myself when I come across something really delicious that needs a little TLC.’

Jo smiled back. 'So what's the other option?'

‘You carve another foot out of lime wood.'

‘I did carve some quite sweet little bits and pieces for my daughter's doll's house.’

Jo remembered the little wardrobe she had carved. It hadn't been exactly Grinling Gibbons, but she had been working on a very small scale. 'OK, so once I've made the foot, and there are various other little curlicues I'll have to copy too what do I do then? Presumably I don't just paint it gold.’

The man shook his head. 'Oh deary me, no. You'll need to apply gold leaf, or an imitation of it, at least. What you probably need first is a good book. Then you need to decide if you want to use proper, old-fashioned techniques or more modern, less authentic ones.'

‘I think I should be authentic,' she said after a moment's thought. 'I want to learn new skills not how to botch things up.'

‘That's my girl!' he said. 'Now, do you trust me to tell you what you'll need? It will be quite expensive. I'll give you some off-cuts of lime wood to make it better value.'

‘Thank you,' she said meekly and decided to trust him.

When she left half an hour later she was in a state of mild shock. She had a carrier bag with many of the arcane materials she had seen on the shelves, a slim but well-illustrated book about gilding, and an envelope, on theback of which were as many extra tips and wrinkles as she could get down. It also had Peter's (they were on Christian name terms by then) telephone number. 'You'll love applying gold leaf,' he had assured her as he held the door open. 'It's like alchemy!’

Then her phone rang. Dora had finished her interviews. They discussed a rendezvous and, feeling self-indulgent and extravagant, she hailed a taxi.

When Dora found her, Jo was sipping a cappuccino in a café nearby, glad of a bit of a rest. She was flicking through a magazine and obviously enjoying the sunshine that filtered through the window. She had a couple of carrier bags by her side and she smiled enthusiastically when she saw Dora.

‘How did you get on? Do you want a coffee or something?’

Dora collapsed on to the chair opposite Jo, grateful for the cool of the café, eager to take the sting out of her ordeal by relating it. 'Water please. That was ghastly!'

‘Oh? Why?' Jo got up and went to the counter. 'Still or fizzy?'

‘Fizzy.’

Jo carried over the water. Dora could tell she really wanted to offer Dora a Knickerbocker Glory or something, and was restraining herself. Jo truly was a very motherly person.

‘What happened?' Jo asked.

Dora considered. 'Well, nothing actually happened but the first woman was so hostile. She made out that I was only fit to work in a shop because my job had been in a small country town. I ran that office!'

‘How horrid!' Jo said, handing Dora a bottle of fizzy water and a glass.

‘And she suggested I tried temping, to give me more experience.'

‘You don't think that sounds quite a good idea?' Jo was tentative. She obviously didn't want Dora to think she wasn't on her side.

Dora shook her head. 'Well… probably, but I'm just not ready for that sort of excitement. I don't know my way round London, for a start, and the thought of having a new job every week or whatever is just too stressful at the moment.' She imagined legions of women with white nails and permatans and felt weak with inadequacy. -

‘I must say it sounds ghastly. Although I did a bit of temping and really liked it. Everyone was so surprised and pleased if you actually did anything, like taking a telephone message, they mostly loved you. But that was a very long time ago.' Jo regarded her young friend. 'I tell you what, let's find somewhere lovely for lunch. Have a glass of wine. You'll feel a lot better. One always feels depressed if one's blood sugar gets low.’

Dora laughed. 'The technical term for that is hungry.’

‘Call it what you like, I've just spent over a hundred pounds on materials – I need a drink!’

They found a wonderful little Italian place down a side street, which had a courtyard covered with a vine and flirtatious waiters. They seemed determined to give them such excellent service the women probably wouldn't need to actually cut up their food, but just open wide as the fork approached. They were ushered to a table in the courtyard that was just the right temperature, not too hot, but not chilly, either.

‘I love going out to lunch with an attractive young woman,' said Jo when her napkin had been tenderly laid over her knee for her. 'The waiters are so attentive!'

‘They're being attentive to you, too,' said Dora, already beginning to recover from her interviews.

‘Only because I'm with you. It's never like this when I'm by myself.’

Dora frowned. 'I've never eaten in a restaurant by myself, or even a café. I only ever meet people in pubs if I can guarantee they'll be there first.' Dora remembered Tom's dares and wondered what he would spring on her next.

Jo broke into her thoughts. 'Well, you're young.'

‘I'm pathetic. That horrible woman in the interview made me realise how pathetic I am.' She looked at the menu. 'But strangely, I'm also terribly hungry.'

‘Told you so,' said Jo with a laugh. 'I promise you, nothing seems so bad after a good meal. Now, what shall we have? If we shared a starter, we'd probably have room for pudding. I see they've got zabaglione, which you hardly ever see but it's just wonderful!'

‘Signora – the wine list.' The younger of the two waiters handed it to Jo who took it as if it might burn her.

‘Oh goodness, I don't know anything about wine. Shall we just have a bottle of house white?'

‘A whole bottle?' Dora was horrified.

‘It's much more economical than buying it by the glass and I've already taken a taxi today. I need to save where I can.’

Dora put an elbow on the table and rested her head on her hand. 'You're amazing. No wonder you and my mother were never really friends.'

‘Oh, but I like your mother very much!'

‘Yes, but she'd never suggest sharing a bottle of wine on the grounds that it would be cheaper.'

‘That's because she's sensible and I'm not. Now, what shall we eat? I think maybe I won't be on a diet today.'

‘Do you think I'd be copping out if I checked out the job in the boatyard?’

Dora and Jo had nearly reached their station. They hadn't discussed Dora's job prospects since her first description of her interviews, but it had obviously been in the back of her mind all the rest of the day as they rather merrily tripped round Selfridges and walked off their lunch.