‘Fucking Clive never replaces these, I mean hello, this isn’t a Travelodge, the coffee doesn’t come free with the room.’

Clive was Greg’s flatmate. He was forty-two and married. He split his time between London three nights a week, and his family home in Kent the rest of the time. From Minnie’s perspective it looked like an ideal situation for Greg – he got half his rent paid, yet Clive was hardly there.

‘If you break down the cost per pod and the number of pods he uses a month, do you know how much that works out as?’ Greg jabbed a finger against the kitchen counter.

Minnie nodded sympathetically, then realised he was waiting for an answer.

‘A tenner?’

‘Seven pounds twenty. I swear he wouldn’t even know where to buy replacements. You think they have coffee capsule shops in Kent? They do not.’

Greg picked up two green pods and shook them at Minnie. He slammed them both down on the counter and started scratching his short beard. ‘There’s only Fortissio Lungo left. I hate Fortissio Lungo – Clive knows that. If you’re going to drink a man’s coffee, at least have the decency to drink the ones you know he doesn’t like. Right?’

Minnie nodded. Greg glanced at his Apple watch and made an impatient clicking sound with his tongue against his teeth.

‘Right, I’ve got to go, I’ll get a decent coffee on the way. Let yourself out?’

Minnie got the bus to work, buzzing with irritation. Was she expecting too much from Greg? She knew he had his own pressures and concerns to deal with, but surely being with someone you loved should make both your life loads feel lighter. She was leaving his flat feeling heavier than ever. To be fair to him, she didn’t know if anyone would have been able to make her feel better about the day she had ahead – telling the others they were losing their jobs was never going to be easy.

As she walked through the door of No Hard Fillings, heard the familiar bell chime and breathed in the smell of pastry that clung to the air, she felt a stab of sadness. This might be one of the last times she heard that bell and smelt that comforting smell.

‘Minnie.’ Leila jumped out of the kitchen and started doing star jumps on the spot. She was wearing a bright pink boiler suit and neon-yellow-framed glasses. ‘Jump with me, Minnie!’

‘Is this some kind of money rain dance?’ said Minnie, shaking her head from side to side.

‘Do it, jump with me,’ Leila cried, reaching out to take Minnie’s hands and lifting them over her head.

‘OK, we’re jumping,’ said Minnie, shaking off Leila’s hands and joining in with the star jumps. ‘Is this a new fad – jump meetings? The endorphins make you feel better about the crap news you’ve got to deliver?’