‘Notice anything different in here, Minnie Moo?’ he asked. Minnie stood up and straightened the blue woollen jumper she was wearing. She looked around for a new clock.

‘Up there,’ she said, pointing above the bookcase to the left of the TV. There was a small wooden Vienna regulator wall clock, with a pendulum as large as its face.

‘Finally found that missing piece, didn’t I. Bloke in Hamburg sold it to me for a pretty penny, I’ve been haggling with him for months.’

‘Very impressive, Dad – looks good as new.’

Her father grinned, his broad ruddy cheeks balled to the size of apples. To look at him you wouldn’t imagine Bill Cooper had the sleight of hand or the patience to repair minute pieces of machinery. He had arms like tree trunks and shoulders like an ox, perfect for hauling heavy loads. Yet his real strength lay in the fine-motor coordination of his fingertips and an unlikely interest in antique clockwork.

‘Anyway, Bake Off time. Have you been watching, Minnie Moo?’

‘What series is this?’

‘It’s a repeat – never gets old. I reckon you’d get a handshake off Paul Hollywood for your pies.’ He raised his voice. ‘Con, it’s pastry week!’ Then he turned back to Minnie. ‘Grab me a beer, love, would you?’

Minnie stopped searching for the dog and went back through to the kitchen. The sound of the television accompanied by a cacophony of ticking, coupled with her instant reappointment as resident barmaid, made Minnie feel as though she’d never left; life felt exactly as it had nine years ago. Technically, she’d only moved out three years ago – she’d had to move home briefly when they were setting up the business. Then there were those few months back in 2011 when she’d suddenly found herself unemployed. Minnie felt queasy thinking about that period of her life. Was this the pattern she was condemned to: move out, try and make a go of a new job, fail, move home and start all over again? The Brent Cross house toying with her as if she were a yo-yo, spitting her out into the real world only to reel her back in again as soon as she overstretched herself.

Now, here she was about to ask her parents if she could move back in again. Minnie’s palms felt cold and clammy at the thought of living here again. She’d considered looking for a flat share, but with all the scratch marks Lucky had made in her current flat, she wasn’t holding out much hope of getting her deposit back. She didn’t have the funds to put down another one, and most people weren’t keen on living with an extra four-legged furry flatmate anyway. She opened the fridge door to get two beers, one for herself and one for her dad.