'Does it need to be quite so busy?' the girl asked doubtfully, encouraged too much by Mae's smile.

'I know my clients,' replied Mae, coolly. This is, at least, she thought, a dress that makes some effort. She inspected the work. The needlework was delicious, as if the white cloth were cream that had flowed together. The poor creature could certainly sew, even when she hated the dress.

'That will be fine,' said Mae, and made a move towards her purse.

'You are so kind!' murmured Miss Soo, bowing slightly.

Like Mae, Miss Soo was of Chinese extraction. That was meant to make no difference, but somehow it did. Mae and Miss Soo knew what to expect of each other.

The dress was packed in brown paper and carefully tied so it would not crease. There were farewells, and Mae scurried back to the hairdressers. Sunni was only just finished, hairspray and scent rising off her like steam.

'This is the dress,' said Mae and peeled back part of the paper, to give Halat and Sunni a glimpse of the tulle and styrofoam.

'Oh!' the women said, as if all that white were clouds, in dreams.

And Halat was paid. There were smiles and nods and compliments and then they left.

Outside the shop, Mae breathed out as though she could now finally speak her mind. 'Oh! She is good, that little viper, but you have to watch her, you have to make her work. Did she give you proper attention?'

'Oh, yes, very special attention. I am lucky to have you for a friend,' said Sunni. 'Let me pay you something for your trouble.'

Mae hissed through her teeth. 'No, no, I did nothing, I will not hear of it.' It was a kind of ritual.

There was no dream in finding Sunni's surly husband. Mr Haseem was red-faced, half drunk in a club with unvarnished walls and a television.

'You spend my money,' he declared. His eyes were on Mae.