‘That there is steak and Guinness,’ said Leila, handing him a label, ‘and these are chicken and vegetable, our two most popular flavours.’

‘I thought we were calling them Steak Gyllenhaal and Chick Jagger?’ said Minnie.

‘No,’ Leila said, shaking her head. ‘None of our customers liked those names.’

Quinn laughed as he held a box up to his nose. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever smelt a pie this good.’

‘Don’t suck all the smell out, that’s the best bit,’ said Leila, taking the box from his hands.

‘It’s the buttery pastry that makes them smell like that,’ Bev explained, ‘Minnie’s secret recipe.’

‘It’s not a secret, Bev, it’s just butter,’ Minnie laughed. ‘Butter makes everything great.’

‘Yeah, everything,’ said Fleur, gently tugging her lower lip down with the pad of her middle finger. Minnie glared at her. Leila steered Fleur out of the way, with a hand on each shoulder, then started ushering Minnie and Quinn out of the door.

‘Anyway, you guys should head off. I’m sure you have lots to catch up on, you know, first of January stuff.’

She and Bev followed them out to the car to help load the last of the boxes into the boot.

‘Blimey, people are going to think they’re paying us too much,’ said Bev.

‘Or that these are some seriously classy pies,’ said Leila, opening the passenger door for Minnie. As she shut the door she bent down and silently mouthed ‘love twins’ through the window, and made a little heart shape between her thumbs and forefingers.

Quinn tapped the first delivery address into his satnav. Minnie sat awkwardly on her hands, trying not to touch any of the beautiful cream leather.

‘How come you drive a Bentley then?’ she asked. ‘Compensating for something?’ Quinn burst out laughing. Minnie felt herself blush.

‘Sorry, I don’t know why I said that.’

Minnie glanced up to look at Quinn as he started the ignition and pulled away from the kerb. When he smiled, a fan of lines radiated out from his eyes. When he stopped smiling, some lines stubbornly remained, as though they knew they’d be used again soon, so there was no point in going away. There was something so warm and familiar about his face, though she couldn’t explain what.

‘It was my mother’s. It’s not something I would have chosen, but she doesn’t like to drive any more so she gave it to me,’ Quinn said.

He tilted his head to one side and briskly scratched his neck.

‘My mum gave me a meat thermometer for my birthday,’ said Minnie.

‘My dad got me a card saying “Happy thirty-third”,’ said Quinn.

‘I’d take the car and the card with the wrong age any day.’

Minnie gently bounced up and down on her hands; she felt fizzy with an unexplained energy, as though she’d downed eight coffees.