Minnie brushed her hair out from behind her ears in an attempt to cover her burning cheeks. Quinn stood up and followed her to the lift, where he answered the intercom with a shaking hand.

‘Hello, Quinn?’ came a woman’s voice.

‘Yeah, I’ll be right down,’ he drawled.

Minnie called the lift, the doors opened and they both stepped in. She fiddled with her hands and fixed her stare on the silver reflective doors as they closed.

‘Do I smell of whisky?’ Quinn whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

Minnie turned to look at him and then leant over to sniff him.

‘Only like you bathed in it.’

He did smell of whisky, but he also had this manly, hot sort-of Christmassy smell that made Minnie inexplicably want to nuzzle into his neck. No, she mustn’t think like that; Quinn was a player with commitment issues, and she had just broken up with someone – neck nuzzling was not an option.

The lift opened onto the street and a girl was waiting there. She was tall with long blonde hair, impossibly bee-stung lips and large breasts on display. Clearly Quinn had a type – this woman was a bustier, younger version of Lucy Donohue. The girl’s eyes lit up when she saw Quinn, then she saw Minnie and her delicate features tensed in confusion.

‘Hi, Amanda?’ Quinn greeted her politely with a kiss on the cheek.

‘And this is …?’ Amanda asked in an airy voice, pointing a taut, unblinking smile at Minnie.

‘This is Minnie, she’s … ’ Quinn faltered.

‘I’m nobody, I’m the caterer.’

Quinn winced. Minnie stood between them and they both turned towards her. She was the third wheel, she needed to leave, but her feet were glued to the ground; she physically couldn’t make herself walk away.

‘Well, what would you like to do then?’ said Amanda, in a squeaky, youthful voice. She tilted her body away from Minnie, closer to Quinn. ‘There’s an Edward Hopper exhibition on around the corner that I thought we might go to?’

Minnie did a double take. Edward Hopper was the artist who painted Automat – he was Minnie’s favourite artist. She was impressed Amanda was a fan. That would teach her not to judge a book by its busty cover.

‘You like Edward Hopper?’ Quinn asked, in exactly the tone Minnie had been thinking it.

Amanda blushed, ‘Oh no, I don’t know who he is, but I saw in your profile he was on your list of interests. I thought maybe you could educate me?’ Amanda gave Quinn a flirtatious little smile.

‘I love Edward Hopper,’ Minnie chipped in without thinking. Amanda and Quinn both turned to look at her with what-are-you-still-doing-here expressions. ‘Sorry, I should go. Enjoy yourselves, kids, play safe, ha-ha.’