Since they broke up, Greg had finally decided to start work on the book he’d always wanted to write: Jennifer Aniston’s unofficial biography. The process of writing it had led him to reassess his priorities in life. He’d called Minnie a few months ago to say that, like Jen, he was happy being single, that he didn’t need a partner to define him, and that he wanted to champion the women in his life, so if she ever needed championing, he would be there. Minnie hadn’t realised how deeply his passion for Jennifer Aniston ran, but this new, supportive, Jennified Greg was definitely an improvement.

*

Walking into the shiny Lexon offices, Minnie felt like Sheryl Sandberg and Hilary Clinton rolled into one. Katy Perry’s ‘Roar’ played in her head and she was definitely strutting as she walked – Minnie never strutted. Lucy and a man in a pinstripe suit with dark, slicked-back hair welcomed her into their boardroom. There were miniature bottles of water lined up in a row along the enormous boardroom table and huge shiny wall-mounted TV screens at either end of the room.

‘Thank you for meeting with me,’ Minnie said, shaking Lucy’s hand while fastidiously keeping eye contact. She wanted to say that she knew Lucy was busy, that she wouldn’t keep them long, but she stopped herself – that would be old Minnie talking.

‘We’ve met before, right?’ said Lucy, squinting, trying to place her. ‘Greg was rather vague on the phone.’

‘Yes – last New Year’s Eve,’ Minnie said. ‘At the Night Jam.’

Lucy cocked her head to one side and then slowly looked Minnie up and down.

‘Oh yes … ’ A glimmer of recognition. ‘I hardly recognised you, have you changed your hair?’

Minnie launched into the presentation. She’d rehearsed it so many times over the last few days. She had all the stats and figures. She’d even made a short video of her old clients explaining what a difference it made to their lives, having her pies delivered.

It went without a hitch – well, except for a glitch with the PowerPoint where the screen froze. When she tried to reset it, a picture of her and Leila on a beach in Goa popped up instead. She was holding Fleabag dog with one hand and a cocktail in the other – she looked sunburnt and happy.

‘Sorry, technical difficulties,’ Minnie blustered.

Lucy and her colleague Rupert asked questions and listened politely. They both tasted samples of the pies she had brought and Minnie left them with a bound presentation of her proposal.

‘Well, thank you for coming in, we’ll be in touch,’ said Lucy. ‘Great jumpsuit, by the way.’