‘For fuck’s sake, Beverley!’ Leila said, slamming her palm down onto the countertop. Alan jumped in alarm. Beverley let out a quivering sob and closed her eyes.

‘Hey, hey, it’s OK, she’s having a bad day,’ said Minnie, rubbing Beverley on the back with a floury hand. ‘We’re making more, it’s fine,’ Minnie said, giving Leila a wide-eyed stare.

‘It’s not fine,’ Leila sighed, ‘I spent all New Year’s Eve prepping those pies. And you,’ Leila jabbed a finger at Minnie, ‘what happened to you yesterday? I was ringing on your doorbell for ages, Little Miss Migraine bullshit.’

‘I don’t like Leila when she’s angry,’ said Alan, hunching his shoulders and settling his features into a childlike scowl.

‘Rainbow Bright’s got attitude today,’ said Fleur, appearing at the kitchen door.

‘What happened yesterday?’ asked Alan.

‘Happy Birthday by the way, Minnie,’ said Beverley, sniffing back tears. ‘Did you get to do anything nice?’

‘She did not do anything nice,’ said Leila, leaning both hands on the countertop. ‘She hid in her flat pretending to have a migraine, standing up her best friend.’

‘I wasn’t pretending,’ Minnie said, pounding her other fist into the dough with a satisfying ‘thunk’.

‘Ooh, I love it when my work mums fight!’ Fleur sang from the doorway, pumping both hands in the air like a cheerleader.

‘It is not very mature, is it Minnie?’ said Leila, ignoring Fleur. ‘This fear of the first of January is getting ridiculous.’

‘It is not ridiculous, OK?’ Minnie said, picking up the pile of dough and smashing it down onto the countertop. No one spoke. The thwack of the pastry against stainless steel reverberated around the room.

‘Intermission! I’ll put some music on,’ said Fleur, turning back to the reception area in a swish of white hair.

Leila pulled on an apron and gazed mournfully at the line of burnt pies, which Beverley had moved to the sideboards at the far end of the kitchen.

‘I suppose we can’t even salvage the fillings?’ she sighed, ‘Come on then, Bev, help me put these out of their misery.’

Ten minutes later, with the spoilt pies making their way into bin and the smell of burnt pastry still lingering in the air, everyone was in a more relaxed mood. They had a good production line going, with Alan and Minnie shaping pastry into new tins, while Beverley and Leila decapitated the burnt ones and disposed of their charred remains. Fleur had curated an uplifting playlist and they were all, bar Alan, singing along to ‘Lady Marmalade’ as they worked. If Fleur was good at something, it was finding the right soundtrack to improve the collective mood.

‘So has Name Stealer been in touch yet?’ Leila asked as she and Minnie crossed paths at the sink. Leila was thawing, but Minnie knew she wasn’t yet forgiven for standing her up.

‘Who’s Name Stealer?’ asked Bev.