“Excuse me,” said a voice. “Is Lulu Atwater around?”

At the door to the office stood Sophie, pretty as a spring day, in a short green-and-white-flowered dress topped with a soft white cardigan.

“What are you doing here?” said Lulu.

“Come to see you,” said Sophie. “I’ve just been to see the flat, and I thought I’d look in, if it’s okay.” She perched herself on the edge of Lulu’s desk and swept a smile at the two Goncharoff men. “Hi, I’m Sophie. I’m Lulu’s sister, is it okay to come to visit her?”

Sasha removed himself from his father and stood, slouching sensually, pinching his chin between thumb and forefinger.

“There’s a sister who’s an office administrator,” he said thoughtfully. “And there’s a sister who’s an actress. And I’m guessing that you’re the … office administrator, right?”

“Right!” Sophie beamed sunnily at him; charming the opposite sex had never posed a problem for her. “I’m very bossy, I like to hand out memos, and I get really cross if people don’t read them.”

“You sound terrifying. Would you like some coffee?”

“Love some, please. Ooh. Are those my sister’s flapjacks? I’d know them anywhere, can I have one? They’re amazing, does she often bring in stuff she’s made? Aren’t you lucky. She’s always been a fabulous cook, we were heartbroken when she left home, reduced to eating plain digestives and those horrid cardboardy Bourbon things, it was terribly sad.”

“You could always have learned to cook yourself,” said Lulu.

“Well, but that was the problem, you see, you were always so good at it, we all had the most desperate inferiority complexes, so we couldn’t. Which reminds me. Super-important.” She swallowed a bite of flapjack, and leaned forward earnestly across Lulu’s desk. “Cheesecake,” she said.

“Excuse me?” said Lulu.

“Jamie’s favorite pudding. You said we were going to surprise him with it, remember? Well, last night Esme and I got him into this whole complicated made-up game where we had to tell all sorts of secrets about ourselves, like first pets and childhood nicknames—his was Dinky-Ears, which I think is quite sweet, but you mustn’t let on you know because I promised I wouldn’t tell—and cunningly buried, right slap-bang in the very middle of all the other stuff was ‘Hmm, okay, what’s next on this list? Oh, yes. What’s your favorite … ummm … pudding?’ And it’s cheesecake.” She stopped. “Is that okay?” she asked. “Can you make cheesecake?”

“Well, of course I can make cheesecake,” said Lulu. “Why wouldn’t I be able to?”

“I don’t know, a lot of normal ordinary people can’t.” She turned to her by now enraptured audience to explain. “My friend Jamie’s helping me move in to Lulu’s flat this weekend, and because she’s not only an amazing cook but the nicest and kindest sister in the entire universe, she’s making just the most outstandingly yummy dinner for him, a runny sort of winey beef casserole that is just bliss, and she told me that if I could sneakily find out his favorite pudding, we’d surprise him with it.” She smiled proudly. “So now I’ve done my part, and all Lulu needs to do is wave her magic cooking wand and it’ll all be good in the ’hood.”