‘I don’t know what is wrong with me. He was just being so arrogant and annoying, trying to give me all this advice, telling me I should be grateful to get his opinion because “he earns five hundred pounds an hour”,’ Minnie said, imitating Quinn’s voice.

‘Maybe you should be grateful for his opinion,’ said Leila, closing the pink ring binder of accounts and rubbing her eyes with her palms. Her hair was scraped back in a messy bun, her eyes looked sunken and tired. ‘One month of good orders doesn’t put us in the clear, you know. It’s going to be an uphill slog to build any kind of financial buffer.’

Minnie stretched out on the sofa and looked up at the ceiling.

‘I could hear myself sounding all bitter and bitchy, I don’t know where it came from. Do you think I walk around with a chip on my shoulder?’

Leila scrunched up her nose and stuck her teeth over her front lip like a rabbit.

‘What?’ said Minnie, leaning up on her elbows. ‘What’s that face?’

‘I wouldn’t say a whole chip, not a thick-cut chip-shop chip anyway, maybe a skinny fry,’ said Leila. ‘A McDonald’s chip.’

Minnie picked up the sofa cushion and threw it at Leila. They both laughed.

‘Working hard?’ asked Ian, coming through to the living room holding a burrito in one hand. He was wearing a black T-shirt that said, ‘Don’t grow up – it’s a trap’, in a messy white font.

Leila looked at the clock on her phone.

‘Right,’ she said, jumping to her feet, ‘I’ve got to go. I’ve got a meeting with Monsieur bank manager.’

‘You sure you don’t want me to come?’ asked Minnie.

‘No, our bank manager is quite hot – I don’t want you smashing his lamps or starting some sort of sexy slagging match.’

Leila winked and jumped out of the room before Minnie could land another blow with a cushion.

‘Who’s hot?’ mumbled Ian through a mouthful of burrito. He sat down next to Minnie on the sofa. ‘Want to play two-player mode, Minnie?’

Minnie picked up the two controllers from the floor and passed one to him.

‘If we can play Star Wars Battlefront, but only one game then I have to go bake.’

Ian leant forward, put his leaking burrito on the coffee table and started riffling through the games drawer beneath the TV.

‘Something I wanted to talk to you about, Minnie,’ said Ian, loading the game into his Xbox.

‘If this is a coming-out speech, you’re telling the wrong person,’ she said, tilting her chin and looking down at him with wide, serious eyes. Ian leant back and gently punched her on the shin.

‘No, dickhead.’