Page 57 of The Good Neighbour

“I haven’t spoken to her. I don’t want to make any more trouble. She’s been wonderful to me and now it’s her turn for happiness. Even if he’s the devil incarnate.”

“That is a very brave and mature response, Hugh. So the stakes are raised somewhat. Now we really do have to make this work,” she said. “This calls for drastic measures. Don’t you worry. I have an idea. Are both your passports up to date?”

The narrow streets of theQuadrilatero della modawere packed as Mrs Wimpole, Josh, Hugh and the Professor wandered around. Every store was a name. Gucci. Vuitton. Scappino.

“I have to hand it to you, Mrs Wimpole. A day trip to Milan to get a suit is about as extra as it comes,” Hugh said.

Mrs Wimpole linked his arm. “The world is smaller than you think, Hugh. Now up here is a wonderful little shop that I’ve been coming to for decades. Signora Rossiis a magician. When I first discovered this shop, it was her mother who ran things but she passed on years ago.”

“Will she not be worried about creating something for a man?” Hugh asked.

“When you see her prices, you will realise she’d create for a dog if it paid well.”

Hugh stopped. “I can’t afford this. We’re on a tight budget and I’ll need more than one suit if they’re going to survive a tour.”

Josh rested his hand in the small of Hugh’s back to ground him.

“Relax,” Mrs Wimpole replied. “This is my treat. Besides, once we’ve got one suit, I’m sure Joshua here can create something similar.”

“I don’t want that,” Hugh said. “I refuse to be someone who takes from Josh. He’s had enough.”

Mrs Wimpole glanced at Josh. To his astonishment there was a tear in her eye.

“You’re not wrong there, my dear,” she said. “Sometimes we all have to ask for help. It’s not bad if you return the favour.”

Josh snuggled into Hugh’s side. “And you’ve already done that, so less of this nonsense.”

Mrs Wimpole clapped her hands together. “Then let us go. While we’re here, there’s a wonderful material shop across town. We’ll get the perfect tweed for your friend’s outfit.”

Josh loved it when Mrs Wimpole was on a mission. He wondered why she’d never got into politics. She would have solved the world’s problems on day one and still had time for high tea.

“Tweed?” the Professor said. “Now I see why I was invited along.”

“Of course,” Mrs Wimpole replied. “It wouldn’t be right if you didn’t choose your favourite.”

“Are you okay with this, Professor?” Josh asked.

The Professor’s face lit up. “I certainly am. Just wait until I tell my son. He’ll think this is hilarious. It’s never a dull moment, is it?”

They resumed walking.

“Your son?” Josh asked. “I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“Paul is in South Korea at the moment on assignment.”

“What does he do?” Hugh asked.

The Professor puffed his chest up proudly. “He’s a photojournalist. He’s won awards, you know.”

“How wonderful,” Hugh replied.

Josh took his hand. The pain on Hugh’s face when the Professor seemed so happy to talk about his son hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Here we are,” Mrs Wimpole said. “Now let me do all the talking. I know what you need. And I know her tricks for bumping the price up. Not if I’ve anything to do with it.”

Mrs Wimpole adjusted her coat and marched inside.

Hugh and Josh glanced at each other.