‘Ahem,’ said Helena, suddenly standing next to Issy. Issy jumped away from Austin slightly suspiciously.

‘Yes?’ she said. Then, ‘Oh, Lena. I can’t believe … I can’t believe you did all this. I’m so, so, so …’

‘Yes, yes,’ said Helena quickly. ‘Well, you were working so hard, and I knew you wanted to see people, so …’

‘It was a lovely thing to do.’

Helena looked pointedly at Austin.

‘Oh.’ Issy felt her blush rising. ‘This is—’

‘Are you Austin?’ asked Helena, to cause maximum embarrassment. Oh great, thought Issy, now he’d know she’d been talking about him. ‘Hello there.’

‘Hello,’ said Austin gravely. Helena reckoned Issy had talked too much about the reddish hair and not enough about the stunning grey eyes and broad shoulders. This guy was miles better-looking than Graeme. But she didn’t want Issy throwing herself in it too much and getting blown out again. Twice in a year would really be pushing it.

‘You need to mingle more,’ said Helena to a pink Issy. ‘All these people have come a long way. He works across the road.’

Issy smiled apologetically at Austin.

‘Oh, yes, I suppose …’

‘Get Issy another drink,’ ordered Helena to Ashok, and he immediately scuttled off to do so.

‘You’ve got him under control,’ said Issy in admiration. ‘I thought you wanted a man to take charge of everything, like a kind of hot Simon Cowell?’

‘Simon Cowell is a hot Simon Cowell,’ said Helena crossly, with the air of a woman tired of repeating herself. ‘Anyway, I thought that too,’ she added.

Ashok glanced at her back across the room. He loved a woman who knew what she wanted.

‘But sometimes you never know what’s right for you.’ Helena lowered her voice almost apologetically and in a near-whisper said, ‘I’ve never been happier.’

Issy hugged her.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Thank you, my dear friend. It’s wonderful. It’s just fantastic. I’m so glad you’re happy.’

And she hurried off to chat to her long-travelling, longsuffering friends, while Austin skulked in the shadows, chatting to Des the estate agent, which wasn’t his ideal notion of where this party was headed, but still, the babysitter hadn’t rung yet and this was a personal record.

At 9.30, suddenly, there was a bolt of noise. Helena had been expecting a bit of complaining from neighbours and had been quite prepared to move the party back to the flat, but this was the familiar rattle of a shop grille coming up with a noisy snap. It was the ironmonger’s. He couldn’t, Issy thought. He couldn’t still be here at this time of night. But he was. With solemnity and funereal speed, the ironmonger emerged from the shop, which was in pitch darkness, and glided towards Issy. Issy, slightly the worse for wear, suddenly envisaged him in a top hat, like something out of Dickens. He was wearing, instead, a dark three-piece suit and a fob watch. She smiled a welcome to him, and offered him a glass of fizz, which he refused. Instead, he stood in front of her.

‘Happy birthday, my dear,’ he said, and gave her a very small, wrapped parcel. Then he nodded his head (he should have tipped his top hat, thought Issy tipsily. Or topped his tip hat. Ooh, she had to stop drinking), and vanished out of the little close and into the dark night.

Everyone gathered round as Issy opened the parcel, which was wrapped in brown paper. Inside was a small cardboard box, which Issy opened with slightly shaky, overexcited fingers. Then she drew out, to gasps of admiration, a tiny keyring; a fine filigree of metal, twisted exquisitely into the shape of the logo of the Cupcake Café, with, next to it, an exact representation of the pear tree they were currently underneath. It was utterly exquisite.

‘Oh,’ said Issy, suddenly feeling quite faint.

‘Let me see! Let me see!’ said Zac, anxious to hold a 3D representation of his design. It was absolutely lovely; pure craftsmanship and quite beautiful.

‘That is far too lovely to be a keyring,’ said Pearl straight away, and Issy nodded.

‘I know,’ she said. ‘It’s lovely. I think I’ll hang it in the window.’

And although everyone else’s gifts – Jo Malone smellies, and Madeleine Hamilton scarves, and Cath Kidston cake tins – would be treasured, somehow Issy knew that the keyring was the most special gift of all. There was something about it being metal – not like cake, good for a day, or paper menus, good for a couple of weeks. This would last for many, many years. Which made her think that the café might, too.

There was one person missing. She knew it, she couldn’t deny it. She knew if he’d been well enough, nothing would have kept him away. And in the midst of all her happiness, Issy felt a cold chill blow through her.

Even though the evening stayed warm, people started to drift away after that; friends who’d come from far away and were facing late trains; those with babysitters to relieve, and long commutes in the morning, and Pearl with Louis, who had fallen fast asleep under the tree. Issy turned round at one point to realize that most people were gone, and there were only a scattering, slightly drunk now, dotted around the courtyard. Felipe was playing a winding-down kind of a song.

She looked up and realized that, one, she was in front of Austin, and two, she was very pissed. Very pissed and very happy, she realized. Was it because she was in front of Austin? Could that be the connection? She always seemed happier after she saw him, that was true. But maybe that was because he was lending her money. It was all very confusing.

Austin bit his lip and looked at Issy. She did look so pretty, and so sweet, but she was obviously quite drunk, so it was definitely time for him to go home. He had quite a lot of success with women – some of whom were intrigued and some very much not by the plethora of Batman-related merchandise they found when they got back to his house; either they wanted to move in and play mummies and daddies, or backed off at the speed of light. Austin enjoyed playing the field on his rare nights off, and was absolutely adamant that he didn’t want to introduce more upset into Darny’s life until the boy was a little more … well, just a bit more stable. It didn’t stop him, though. From wanting someone around a bit. Short-term dalliances were easy to find; especially when people had been drinking. But sometimes he thought he might be ready for something a bit more solid; he was over thirty after all. Normally he felt he had enough grown-up stuff in his life without going to the bother of an adult relationship. But sometimes – like now – he thought it might be nice.