After lunch, a wealthy-looking middle-aged couple entered the store. Holly watched in amazement as Emily sprang into action like a newly wound clockwork toy.

She sashayed across the shop, her arms extended before her as though greeting dear long-lost friends.

‘Mr and Mrs Fenwick,’ she announced dramatically, sweeping by salesman Ben Dixon, who for a moment or two had looked in danger of getting to the customers before her. ‘It’s been far too long!’

Quickly tiring of watching a newly energised Emily air-kissing her customers and assuring them how well they looked, Holly opened the large cardboard box in front of her and carefully peeled away the masses of bubble wrap to reveal an exquisite black glass Lalique vase.

She gently fingered the tiny, almost translucent pale pink glass flowers that dotted the lip of the vase and then cascaded down one shoulder. It was truly one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen.

‘And how’s dear Willem doing at boarding school?’ Holly tuned back in to Emily’s impressive performance as she gently dusted off the vase. ‘They’re so lucky to have him, little genius that he is. You must be so proud.’

Holly allowed herself a small cynical smile, noting that her endlessly irritated colleague could convincingly morph into Miss Personality when the mood took her.

It also didn’t escape Holly’s notice that the whole time Emily was oohing and aahing at the digital photographs of the Fenwicks’ amazing break in Milan on Mrs Fenwick’s phone, she was steadily leading them, inch by inch, towards the front of the shop, where the brand-new range of gold-plated feather boa lamps had been displayed.

Without noticing her ploy, the Fenwicks followed, continuing to loudly gush over every detail of their fabulous lives since their last visit to the store.

Holly even felt a grudging respect for Emily. Whatever she might think of her as a colleague, there was no doubt at all that she was extremely good at her job.

She carefully placed the vase on the special marble pedestal stand that Josh had brought over to display it at its best. She swallowed hard when she saw the tiny white price sticker that would be concealed by its base.

Two thousand pounds. For what amounted to a fancy piece of glass, for goodness’ sake! Yes, it was beyond beautiful, but it occurred to her that in the real world, that amount would cover some people’s rent or mortgage payments for months.

Following Josh’s earlier instructions, she clicked the silky black security rope in place in front of the pedestal. They used it purely for show, to discourage customers from getting too close to the most fragile pieces.

‘Now, I’ve something special to share with you.’ Emily’s voice dropped lower, but fortunately Holly was well within eavesdropping range. ‘As soon as I saw these divine lamps, I thought of you. I shouldn’t really tell you this, but…’ she glanced around, apparently to ensure nobody else was listening, ‘we only have the two lamps in. They’re limited-edition stock direct from the exclusive Haus of Rome, and as you can imagine, they’re like gold dust to source.’

Holly noted Emily’s meaningful pause before her killer finish.

‘They’re retailing at twelve hundred each, or as a special deal, I can do the pair for just two thousand pounds.’

The extortionate price tag elicited a snort from Mr Fenwick, but his wife remained entranced by the convincing sales patter.

‘However, there’s good news,’ Emily continued smoothly. ‘I’ve had special clearance from Mr Kellington himself to offer them to you, my best clients, for a mere eighteen hundred the pair.’ She flashed an excited smile, as if she could barely believe the bargain she’d been able to extend to them.

‘I don’t know,’ Mr Fenwick said doubtfully. ‘Perhaps we’ll have a look around before we make a decision and—’

Emily cut in as if he’d never spoken.

‘I immediately thought of you because I know how much Mrs Fenwick loves her black-and-gold colour scheme in the lounge. I can almost picture them there myself.’

‘You’re so right, Emily!’ Mrs Fenwick clapped her hands together and turned to her husband. ‘Oh darling, they’d go so perfectly in there.’

‘We already own more fancy lamps than you can shake a stick at,’ her husband growled. ‘The house’ll be in danger of resembling Blackpool illuminations soon.’

‘But I could take out those Tiffany-style lamps we’ve had for a while and put the new ones in their place.’

‘I don’t know, Amanda. These lamps are very expensive, and—’

‘Look, I’m probably going to get in trouble for doing this,’ Emily confided. ‘But what if I could do them for sixteen hundred the pair? They’re so exclusive, they’re probably the only two in the whole of the East Midlands right now. I’d hate you to miss out.’

There was a beat or two of tense silence.

‘You know, darling, I just don’t think I can go home without them,’ Mrs Fenwick simpered, leaning in to her husband. ‘And sixteen hundred… well, it’s a bargain.’

‘Oh, go on then.’ He rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. ‘You two just tie me up in knots every time I come in here.’

Emily and Mrs Fenwick embraced and giggled together conspiratorially like schoolgirls.

Holly smiled to herself as she carried the surplus packaging from the vase into the back office. Emily didn’t have a clue that this afternoon she’d kindly provided her with a masterclass in how to sell the most expensive items.

She pushed the box and bubble wrap into the waste materials corner of the small room, ready for collection by the warehouse staff.

When she turned to leave, a handwritten list on the desk caught her attention.

It was a breakdown of bottom-line sales prices for all the items currently on display in the store. Josh had shown her a similar list on her first day.

‘You can check here how far you can discount the more expensive items to give our regular customers the best deal,’ he’d explained.

Holly shook her head in disbelief when she read the top line:

Haus of Rome feather boa lamps – £1,250 the pair.

The Fenwicks had just paid £350 over the odds for their lamps, and yet they’d been made to feel they’d been given a very special one-off deal to reward their loyalty to Kellington’s.

Emily had added a very nice fifteen per cent boost – at the higher price – to her commission total for the month.

The following day, Holly witnessed her colleague using exactly the same method on different customers when she sold a pricey mirrored coffee table for twenty per cent higher than the back-room list price.

You had to hand it to her. She knew exactly how to sell to Kellington’s wealthiest customers, each time securing herself a very generous bonus in the process.

They all thought they were her special VIP clients, receiving a preferential service from Kellington’s top saleswoman, but of course, the last laugh was always on them, as they fell for Emily’s flattery hook, line and sinker.

Holly got the distinct feeling that when it came to boosting her own salary, there was much to be learned from her colleague.

Emily appeared to have an instinctive sense of what made people tick.