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thought I was bigger and better than the name on the shoe – and the customer who bought from us.’
    David rubs his forehead and pulls his hand over his face causing his features to stretch in despair. ‘I’ve been such an idiot,’ he adds quietly. ‘Wanting to do things my way, run the business how I saw fit, support my family my way. A stupid stubborn idiot.’
    ‘When did business start declining?’ I ask, wanting to know more about this talented, enigmatic shoemaker and his family.
    He shrugs resignedly. ‘It was steady for a long time; steady enough for my mum and dad to make a good career and retirement out of it. It was in pretty good shape when Maria and I took over the business seven years ago, after we moved down from London. Dad was still chief designer but handed over to me shortly after we had our son Gabe Jr four years ago – he’s named after my dad,’ he adds. ‘Things started well, but after following my father’s successful business plan for a while, I decided I wanted to make my mark on the business, take it into the 21st century in a way I didn’t think my dad had ever considered. You know, become more bespoke, more high-end – appeal to the kind of women who would spend more on their shoes than anything else. I thought it would be my legacy, my footprint – as it were – on the family business. But it seems the specific market I envisaged for Angelo’s shoes, isn’t in Gloucestershire, at least, not enough to sustain our outgoings. The last couple of years have been tough. We had some loyal customers, but fashion is so fast these days that people seem to think it’s better to have shoes in abundance, to go with the changing styles, rather than a few pairs of beautiful shoes that will last forever. Most people have been sucked into the quick-fix trap.’ He pauses and looks at me meaningfully. ‘Even those who appreciate beautiful design and vintage clothes,’ he adds, nodding at my outfit and then glancing down at my shoes. I blush, thinking guiltily of what he’d correctly assumed. That I’d instantly purchased these in three other colours. And I had – the exact colours he mentioned, in fact.
    ‘But David, I really think people are moving away from this era of disposable fashion,’ I say. ‘In my experience, people do buy cheaper on-trend clothes but women – and men too – want special items in their wardrobes that are of quality craftsmanship. That’s why vintage has proven to be such an enduring trend.’ I turn and look at the single pair of 1950s shoes displayed in his little Victorian window and step towards them to get an even closer look.
    ‘I don’t know Evie,’ David sighs. ‘I just don’t know who I’m designing for anymore. The shop has been shut while I try and work out my next move. Maria keeps telling me I need to focus on our online shop, or sell my designs to a big company that will make them cheaper and sell in bulk. But that would mean the history of Angelo’s, the handmade, artisanal heritage would be finished forever. And I just can’t let that happen. It means too much to me.’ He leads me and Sam out of the back of the shop, down some steps and into a delightful little sunlit workshop with exposed Cotswold stone walls and brushed concrete floors covered with woven tapestry rugs.
    ‘Wow, Sam says appreciatively. ‘This is pretty amazing.’
    ‘Thanks,’ David replies with a small, sad smile. ‘I have to admit, I love it. Can’t imagine working anywhere else-’ he stops and closes his eyes as if to compose himself. ‘But it seems I might have to.’ Sam and I take the moment to look around. The studio has patio doors leading out to a small stone terrace, with steps leading up into a pretty, south facing courtyard garden. I walk down the left hand side of studio; the wall is lined with old shoe factory trolleys. They’re all empty. ‘From the 1930s’, David says, when he sees me looking at them. ‘Everything in here is original,