Minnie felt her sixteen-year-old self squeal with delight. That wide-eyed naïve romantic, unjaded by disappointment. Ian came back with a blue velvet ring box and opened it carefully in front of her.

‘It’s my gran’s,’ he said with a lopsided shrug. ‘My mum gave it to me when Gran died, dunno why.’

The ring was a delicate vintage gold band with five small diamonds in a line across the top. Minnie felt a warm rush of excitement when she saw it – it was so Leila: quirky but classic. She would love the fact that it was vintage, that there was a story behind it.

‘It is perfect, Ian. This is the ring, this is definitely the ring!’

Minnie squealed, punched the air and started doing a little jig on the spot.

‘It’s got a mark on the back ’cause it had to be sawed off my gran when she died on account of her fingers all swelling up from the diabetes.’ Ian turned the ring over in his palm to show her. ‘My ma said they almost didn’t know it was there when she was at her fattest, ’cause the finger just grew around it like a bird’s neck stuck in a plastic beer-can loop. It started cutting off the oxygen and her finger went all rank and blue.’

‘Don’t tell Leila that story when you propose,’ said Minnie firmly, reaching out to grab Ian’s wrist. ‘Promise me you won’t tell that story when you give her the ring.’

Ian tapped his nose with his free hand, as though making a mental note.

‘There’s something else,’ said Ian, sitting down on the coffee table.

‘If you want to adopt me, the answer is yes,’ said Minnie.

Ian stared down at his shoes in silence. He clicked shut the ring box and started passing it between his hands like a baseball player warming up to pitch. He fumbled it, finally clasped a fist around it, and thrust it back into the pocket of his grey tracksuit bottoms.

‘I want you to think about giving up the business,’ he said, closing his eyes.

Minnie looked to see if he was serious.

‘What? Why?’

‘Because it’s killing her,’ said Ian, opening his eyes again. ‘She’s so stressed, Minnie. She can’t sleep; she’s up half the night worrying. She’s put all her own money in just to prop it up. We want to buy a house, Min, maybe have kids; we’re never gonna get a mortgage as things stand.’

Minnie let out a loud exhale. She had never heard Ian sound serious before.

‘She should have said something.’

‘She wouldn’t,’ said Ian, shaking his head. ‘She’s your best mate, she wants you to have your dream. She’d run herself ragged for you.’

‘Our dream,’ Minnie corrected him. ‘This business is our dream.’