Today he found himself, as single men do when they stand in a dress shop, nervous, decidedly out of place, alien. It was like wandering into a lady’s private boudoir, catching her doing things that ladies like to do alone. There’s not normally enough places to avert your eyes without someone capturing you with that look and finally the ceiling is the only place for your eyes to hide, unless it too has a mirror and then it really is time to leave. It is a function of men in dress shops to know more about the ceiling lights that the merchandise.
‘Hello, good afternoon,’ said a smiling young shop assistant, hands clasped together in a de facto prayer for purchase. ‘Are you waiting for the young lady?’
Fine, thought Salvador, Camille had slipped past him at Bruja after all and was indeed her
