For a moment, I ponder. Cooking two hundred sausage rolls would be a piece of piss. Throw in some hot dogs and burgers, and it’d be sweet. But I need to source all those things before the supermarket closes tonight otherwise I'm not going to get them from anywhere else. Not with this kind of notice.

“I’ll do it. But I need to be paid upfront.” I can cover it, but I’m not going to offer anyone credit. Especially when they’re not locals.

“Agreed.” He pulls out his credit card.

For a moment, I’m stunned.

“We’ll have to do it in more than one transaction. My credit card floor limit isn’t big enough,” I say.

“Whatever works. You’re a lifesaver.”

I lead him to the other end of the counter, punching the numbers into the machine. One by one the transactions go through, and I hand him back his card with the receipts.

“Thanks again, Delaney.”

“What address are we delivering to?”

“I’ll confirm and email it to you if that’s okay? I’m not completely sure of it myself.”

I nod. “That’s fine. Just make sure you let me know before ten-thirty tomorrow morning.”

“No problem. I’ll send it to you in around half an hour if you could give me your details.” He taps them into his phone. “Thanks again. I was desperate until Mitch suggested this place.”

I smile, assuming Mitch is the guy I spoke to the other day. “That’s always great to hear.”

“You have no idea what a relief it is to get this sorted out. I’d be dead if I didn’t find an alternative.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad to help.” And so is my bank account.

With a promise to send me all the information I need, George leaves and I brace myself for Pania’s reaction. We’ve done jobs at late notice before, but in a small town like Glenderry, it’s never been one this big.

“You are going to kill me,” I sing as I walk through to the kitchen.

“Who did you piss off this time?”

I laugh. Pania knows me so well. We grew up together in Whakatane, and her whanau took me in when I had nowhere to go. She’s the McCartney to my Lennon, the Jay-Z to my Beyoncé, although in all fairness, she looks more like Beyoncé than I do with her flawless brown skin and long honey-blonde hair.

“No one.”

“That makes a change.” She pokes her tongue at me, and I roll my eyes.

“We just got a big catering job for Friday.”

Her eyes widen. “How big?”

“Two hundred.”

“Delaney, that’s the day after tomorrow. From this tiny kitchen?”