What does she think I’ve been doing for her, these past five years? ‘Yes, definitely,’ I reply. She chats on a little more about the new product lines she’s hoping to launch, assuring me that the bunnygate fallout seems to be fading. And now I’m thinking: there are definitely gaps in my knowledge, if I were to head up a group of young employees. I’d need to learn about food technology, budgeting, every stage of production. It would be a huge learning curve for me, but doable. She’s lucky to have you, Jules said. And I decide that, as Rose clearly hasn’t brought me here for the food, this is my chance to sell myself.

‘I think I’m the ideal person for this kind of thing,’ I say, as our greasy bowls are whisked away.

‘Really?’ She looks pleased, but surprised.

‘Yes, I do. You know, people are always moaning about youngsters today, how unmotivated they are – all these pampered snowflakes a mere unripe avocado away from mental collapse …’

Rose smiles in recognition. Although she doesn’t have children, occasionally she mentions her nieces as if they are a species of exotic bird that she admires, but doesn’t fully understand. ‘I have to say, I’ve met a few who fit that description.’

‘But most kids aren’t like that really,’ I add. ‘My son and his friends are all working hard. They care about their futures and the wider world, and they’re out there, getting their lives together.’ I pause for breath. ‘They’re just a little different to us.’

‘In what way?’ She seems genuinely interested.

‘Well, they expect a lot, you know? I don’t mean in an entitled way. I mean in terms of things being just right. For instance, my son’s girlfriend makes jewellery and sells it on Etsy. She knows her customers are just like her – that they don’t just want a bracelet stuffed in a Jiffy bag. They expect a beautiful hand-written note with their purchase, written with a quill …’ Rose chuckles. ‘They care about ethics,’ I add, ‘and sustainability …’

‘Do they?’ she asks, looking amazed.

‘Yes! They’re passionate about environmental issues and they boycott big, tax-avoiding conglomerates. Imagine that, that they think about tax, at twenty years old!’

‘That is impressive,’ she says thoughtfully.

‘So, if you’re suggesting I work with these young people, I’d like you to know I’d be delighted—’

‘Oh, I wasn’t thinking of that.’ She smiles tightly and blinks at me.

‘Weren’t you?’ Hotness whooshes up my neck.

‘Um, no, not exactly …’ Her jaw seems to tighten as she looks around the restaurant. The only customers who appear to be appreciating the potato-throwing routine are two almost identically dressed girls with silken black hair, who are sitting directly in the chef’s firing line. ‘I was thinking I’d like to see you in a more … visible role, though,’ she adds.