Wilhelmina Bumbridge

Lord Bumbridge tapped at the green door of the Shop with No Name and heard the familiar clippety clop sound of his daughter’s high-heeled mules. She opened the door and ushered him into what appeared to be a reception room, with cedar wood panelling on the walls and a cream marble floor. There was nothing much else of note in the spartan reception apart from a desk, a potted fern and a picture of a loved up couple in a gondola. Lord Bumbridge noted with pride how lovely his daughter looked, with her mane of thick hair, the colour of Gunbridge Bells brick and moss green eyes, just like his.