She asked Leila to see the details of the order. A woman had called, paid over the phone with a credit card and given her the names and addresses of fifteen companies to deliver to on different dates this month. No Hard Fillings didn’t cater for corporate clients; they made pies for people who could no longer cook for themselves, for the vulnerable and socially isolated. Why would businesses like these want pies delivered from a company like theirs? How would they even have found out about them?

‘Oh, and they asked if we could bring them ready to eat, so we’ll need to buy more insulated packaging,’ said Leila.

Minnie looked down at the list of addresses Leila had given her. She only recognised one of them – the newspaper where Greg worked.

‘This has got to be someone helping us out,’ said Minnie.

‘I thought the same,’ said Leila.

Minnie knew Greg didn’t have that kind of cash. Maybe these were all business affiliates connected to his newspaper somehow? Maybe he’d been able to do her a favour through work. She suddenly had a rush of affection for Greg. Maybe he was trying to lighten her life load after all.

‘Hmmm,’ said Minnie, poring over the list of addresses again, ‘it’s just not what we’re set up for though, is it? We’re not corporate caterers; we’re supposed to be making pies for the needy – our ability to fundraise and receive subsidies relies on that.’

‘Minnie, we’re not in a position to be picky, and we charged them a higher rate so they’re not being subsidised.’ Leila shot Minnie a wide-eyed, exasperated look. ‘Frankly, I don’t care if Attila the Hun is ordering pies to feed a marauding tribe of murderers, or a clown school is ordering pies for face-splatting practice – they’ve paid, we’ll make them, end of.’ Leila narrowed her eyes at Minnie and gave a brisk shake of her head. ‘I’m going to go call the bank.’

Leila turned and stomped off to the narrow wooden desk at the back of the kitchen where her laptop was set up. Minnie pulled out her phone and typed a text to Greg, ‘Did you order thousands of pounds’ worth of pies from us this morning by any chance?! Xxx.’

‘Has Greg saved the day?’ asked Fleur.

‘I don’t know,’ Minnie said.

‘So predictable for a man to think he needs to rescue the situation,’ Fleur made a pretend yawn. ‘More importantly, tell us what happened with that hot Quinn guy last week? And if you’re not dumping Greg for him, can I have him?’