‘Yeah. She has the perfect excuse to push me around now,’ Gehna sighed. She could feel a grim mood coming on. ‘I can’t believe you’re leaving me. You’re the kid’s godmother, for fuck sake.’

‘Damn right. And my duties as godmother begin on your daughter’s sixteenth birthday, when I shall buy her her first shot of tequila. Also her second, third and sixth shots.’

‘Eighteenth birthday.’

‘Sixteenth,’ the Yam insisted. ‘Tell you what. Just to prove how awesome I am, I’ll allow you to appoint Casper interim-godmother until I’m back.’

They both looked towards the counter along the wall where Eram was sitting on a high stool, hunched over his phone. He had excused himself to go to the washroom when they had all first arrived and hadn’t come back since.

‘He’s the godfather. Can’t be godfather and godmother at the same time, no? It’s fine, it’s fine,’ Gehna said. ‘Sitara and I will manage without you for three months.’

‘Sitara?’

‘I’m giving it a trial run. Whaddya think?’

The Yam rolled the name around in her mouth. ‘I love it. She’ll be as bright and beautiful as the stars.’ She then picked her bag up and pecked Gehna on the cheek. ‘Gotta run for class. I’ll catch you before London.’

Gehna didn’t immediately go and join Eram, or call him over, after the Yam left. She was thinking about when the doctor at the clinic had pointed out the embryo’s heartbeat, and then watched Gehna expectantly.

I wonder what she wanted from me. Was I supposed to cry? In the movies all the women hold a hand up to their mouths and cry. Does it mean I’m a horrible, cold person because I didn’t? Damn it. I should have tried to cry.

Gehna tried, then, as practice for the next time. She squinted and thought about the time when Cuddles, her pet Lhasa apso, had died. She thought about the Syrian refugees, the mistreatment of animals and the children who begged for a living at traffic signals. None of it brought on any actual tears, but she did feel a tremendous sadness about the world beginning to squeeze her heart, so she stopped. This was dangerous territory and she didn’t want to be there right now. As a way to change the subject, Gehna had a look around the cafe. Blue Tokai was, first and last, a coffee bar. It sourced its coffee from all over the world, roasted and ground the beans on its premises, and served it hot or cold from a small but tasteful selection. To eat, you could order yuppie delights such as zucchini pasta (which wasn’t pasta at all, just raw zucchini cut into spaghetti shape), or more traditional favourites like French toast drizzled with syrup. Arugula, feta cheese, walnuts, truffle oil and cherry tomatoes featured in one way or another in over half the dishes on the menu. The decor was a sort of cheerful version of Tribeca loft, with lots of whitewashed brick walls and exposed industrial piping.