Everyone knew that Erin could be a little hot-headed when it came to her work. She made Gordon Ramsey look like Mary Poppins when she really got going, but rarely went so far as to actually threaten murder and subsequent cannibalism.

Jo knew, however, that just as Erin could be enraged at a speed of knots, her anger also burned out quickly and quite often she just needed to shout a bit, or smash something, to restore her equilibrium. Thankfully it usually wasn’t someone’s brain with skillet pan but woe betide a ball of dough or hunk of lamb that crossed her on a bad day. Jo tapped a reply into her phone.

Come over to Libby’s. There are still some chocolate brownies left and we can chat. Leave Phil in charge for twenty minutes.

The kitchen could and would survive without Erin for twenty minutes, even if Erin wasn’t at all willing to believe that.

Jo packed up her things and moved to a table in the coffee bar, before she made two lattes and placed two gooey, delicious chocolate brownies on plates. There were, she noted, certain perks to also working a few shifts at a bookshop which had a coffee bar attached, and being one of the owner’s best friends.

When Libby asked her if everything was okay, she simply replied with ‘Erin’ and no more needed to be said between the two.

Libby smiled. ‘You might need cream with those brownies.’

‘You might be right.’ Jo smiled back, just as the bell above the door tinkled and Erin walked in, red of face and face tight with anger.

Jo pulled her into a hug. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.

Erin pulled back and sat down. ‘You know we’re catering that private party tomorrow? The engagement?’

Jo nodded. The details of the dinner for thirty being held in the pub’s small but perfectly formed function room were seared in her brain. The bride-to-be was what most people would class as high-maintenance. And the groom-to-be was worse.

‘Well, himself just called and wondered could they add another ten meals to the cover. And four of those ten are vegan, but none of our vegetarian options “sound like something they would like”.’ She rolled her eyes at this. For a small gastro pub, The Ivy Inn’s array of vegetarian and vegan meals was impressive – something Erin was very proud of. ‘So he wondered could I send him a few ideas for them to consider. You know, for the dinner, tomorrow.’ She dug her fork into her brownie with a fierceness that made Jo feel a little scared. ‘I mean… ten more meals and a bespoke menu at twenty-four-hours’ notice! And you’ll have to rework the table arrangements to fit more people in! It’s been one thing after another with these two.’