‘Listen, I have to start moving out of my flat at the weekend. Could you help me? I don’t have much, maybe one car-load.’

Greg tilted his face to a disapproving angle.

‘Just go online and hire a man with a van, they’ll be better at lifting stuff than me.’

‘I don’t want to hire a man with a van, and I can’t afford to. I’m asking you, as my boyfriend, to help me.’

‘Jeez, Minderella, I’ll pay for it then,’ Greg sighed. ‘I don’t want to spend my weekend moving boxes around.’

Minnie heard the inner voice of her sixteen-year-old self let out a silent wail and start beating her fists against the inside of Minnie’s chest. When had Greg ever done something that he didn’t want to do for her sake?

Minnie stared at him as he peered down at Lucy Donohue’s byline on the counter. ‘You’re never going to champion my Invincibility Mode, are you?’ she said quietly.

Greg didn’t move, he was still looking at Lucy’s article. Minnie had ignored Greg’s unchivalrous behaviour for the last time. If she was Minderella, he was definitely not Prince Charming.

‘I think we should break up,’ said Minnie.

‘Huh?’ said Greg, glancing up at her.

‘I don’t think this is going to work between us.’

‘Jeez, I’ll lend you the car, Minnie! You don’t need to be a baby about it.’

‘It’s not about the car, I don’t think we’re right for each other.’

‘And you this second decided that, did you? Five minutes ago we were right for each other, and now we’re not?’ Greg made a ‘pfff’ noise and waved the newspaper at her. ‘Women are so bloody tempestuous.’

‘No, I should have seen it earlier, I’ve been—’

‘It’s not like you’re perfect you know, Minnie,’ Greg said, interrupting her. ‘You think if someone asked me who my ideal woman was, I would paint a picture of you? No, I would paint a picture of Jennifer Aniston circa 2010. No one gets perfection! Reality is someone you fancy despite their shortcomings; reality is accepting that seventy per cent is pretty good going.’ Greg’s voice softened, his mouth twitched into a smile. ‘Look, I might not be perfect, but you have to admit we’re pretty good together? We have the same politics, the same sense of humour – we work, you and me.’

‘I never realised I was settling for seventy per cent, Greg, I guess that’s the difference between us.’

At that point Clive wandered back into the kitchen.