‘I was here just a minute ago – we’re here for the birthday party,’ Greg explained. The security guard waved them through, glancing at Minnie’s chest as she walked past. Minnie folded her arms in front of her.

The party on the other side of the red velvet door was everything that the room they had come from was not: the music was at a normal volume, the crowd looked beautifully dressed and sophisticated, waiters were topping up champagne and nobody was being sick over anyone. The exterior curved wall of the room was floor-to-ceiling glass, giving an incredible 180-degree view of the city of London beyond. Minnie immediately felt intimidated. This was a rich persons’ party, a black tie one at that – she couldn’t look more out of place. Minnie had cooked for enough rich people to know how they reacted to people like her; they would patronise her, or worse, look right through her. If she had been wearing the right armour she could have done a good impression of someone who didn’t care, but her skimpy vest top was not it.

‘Greg! You didn’t tell me it was black tie?’ she hissed.

‘Black tie is a bourgeois construct, Minnie. I wouldn’t wear it to my own funeral.’ Greg scanned the room and then waved to a tall blonde girl in a tight red dress. ‘Lucy!’ The girl turned, gave a smile of recognition, then started making her way through the crowd towards them. ‘Better late than never, hey,’ Greg said, reaching out to touch her arm. ‘This is Minnie. Someone was sick on her shirt on the way in.’

‘Hi,’ said Lucy. Her pillowy lips closed over perfect straight teeth into a sympathetic smile. ‘Sorry about the sick. It’s ridiculous they make you wade through all the plebs to get up to the VIP suite.’

Minnie shook her head, shrugging it off.

‘Quite a party,’ she said, looking around at all the free-flowing booze. How much would a party like this cost?

‘It’s my boyfriend’s birthday on the first. We thought we’d use it as an excuse to throw an excessive New Year’s Eve bash,’ Lucy said with a flick of her hand. Then she turned to Minnie with a beaming smile, ‘Hey, didn’t Greg say you were a first of January baby too, Minnie?’

‘Oh, Happy Birthday,’ Greg said hurriedly. Lucy turned to look at him wide-eyed.

‘Greg, you didn’t even say Happy Birthday to her yet? Dump him, Minnie!’ Lucy laughed and nudged Greg in the ribs. Greg blushed and looked at his feet.

‘I’m not big on birthdays,’ Minnie smiled weakly.

They stood in silence for a moment.

‘So, um, Lucy is the food columnist at the paper,’ Greg said. ‘I’m queuing up for a jammy gig like that. I saw you were at La Petite Assiette Rouge last week. So bloody jealous, Luce.’