Minnie knew he was joking, but him saying it sent a flurrying sensation through the depths of her belly. It felt like a nest of baby owls living dormant in her stomach had all woken up at once and started flapping their wings, ravenous to be fed. She clenched her teeth together, annoyed with herself for being so predictable, getting all Fleur-ish when someone like Quinn said anything vaguely flirtatious.

‘Ha-ha,’ she said, shaking her head slowly from side to side, trying to quell the feeling in her stomach. ‘Right, enough of the chit-chat, chauffeur, we’ve got a lot more old folks to feed,’ said Minnie, clapping her hands together.

*

By the time they came to the end of the delivery round, it was five o’clock. Quinn pulled over in a bus stop as there was nowhere to park. Minnie handed him the last pie box from the back seat.

‘And this one is for you. It’s hardly a fair trade for a whole day’s driving, but if we factor in you stealing my name and taking a lifetime of good luck meant for me, I’d say we are near on quits.’

She should jump out, let him go before a bus came, but Minnie didn’t move. She just sat there looking at him, her mouth stretching into an unconscious smile. His smile mirrored hers, then he rubbed a palm across his mouth.

‘Listen … ’ said Quinn. The word hung in the air. ‘If you have time, maybe … ’ He looked down at his hand, flexed his fingers and then screwed them into a fist.

‘Yes,’ she nodded encouragingly.

‘Well, I … I know someone else who would love this pie.’

‘Who’s that?’

‘My um, my mother.’

Quinn explained that he’d mentioned the story of her name to his mother and she wanted to meet Minnie. Minnie had a sinking feeling that she’d been set up. Had this whole offer of a ride been planned to make her feel obligated to go and meet the woman her mother reviled? Quinn had saved the day and she was sitting in the woman’s car. She could hardly say no.

2 January 2020

Tara Hamilton lived in Primrose Hill in north London. As Quinn drove down the Camden Road, Minnie looked out of the window at all the street signs that were so familiar to her. She had grown up close to here. Seeing these streets through the window of a Bentley, she felt like Alice through the looking glass, peering at an alternate version of reality. After being born at the hospital in Hampstead, Minnie had lived with her parents and her brother in a two-bedroom ex-council flat in Chalk Farm, which was just over the railway bridge from Primrose Hill. They’d stayed there until Minnie was fifteen, when her parents had moved further north to get a house. Every memory from her childhood was tied up in this square mile of the city.