‘Although it comes with, obviously, an integrated picnic unit,’ said Pearl, before realizing from Caroline’s face that this was no time for levity. ‘Sorry,’ she added, but Caroline had hardly heard her.

‘I thought if I got a job, showed willing … But he says it means I obviously can work, so I can manage by myself! It’s so unfair! I can’t possibly keep my staff and the house and everything on what I earn here! This barely keeps me in pedicures.’

Issy and Pearl concentrated on the cake mix.

‘Sorry, but it’s true. So I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.’

‘He wouldn’t force you to move out with your children, surely?’ said Issy.

‘There’s probably room on my estate for you,’ said Pearl, at which Caroline choked back a sob.

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘No offence meant.’

‘Oh, none taken,’ said Pearl. ‘I’d like to live in your house too. Or maybe just your kitchen.’

‘Well, the letter says “steps may be taken”,’ said Caroline. ‘Oh God.’

‘But surely he can see you’re trying?’ said Issy. ‘Doesn’t that count for anything?’

‘He doesn’t want me to try,’ hissed Caroline. ‘He wants me to disappear. For ever. So he can keep getting it on with Annabel fucking Johnston-Smythe.’

‘How does she even get that on her credit card?’ wondered Pearl.

‘Anyway, let’s change the subject,’ said Caroline testily. ‘Why are you so happy, Pearl?’

Pearl looked embarrassed and said a lady never kissed and told, which made both of them squeal so much Pearl got quite cross, particularly when Doti the postman turned up and told her she was looking particularly beautiful this morning, and they realized there was a queue of punters at the door, looking hungry and anxious, but unwilling to intrude on the girls’ morning catch-up.

‘I have work to do,’ said Pearl stiffly and got up to leave.

‘You take it nice and easy,’ said Issy, heading downstairs hastily as the first client of the day asked to try out the coconut and orange she had already chalked up on the specials board.

‘Soon, soon,’ she said to the customer.

‘Don’t you deliver?’ said the woman. The girls looked at each other.

‘We should do that,’ said Pearl.

‘I’ll put it on the list,’ said Issy.

She felt cheered by Pearl’s good humour – the fact that she wouldn’t admit to the identity of the chap made Issy wonder if it wasn’t Louis’s dad, but she would never dream of asking something so personal. She worried about Caroline’s divorce, partly for her and partly for selfish reasons, because she didn’t want to lose her. She was prickly and snobbish, but she also worked hard and had an ability to present the cakes in the most beguiling of styles; she’d also improved the room in ways that were hard to pinpoint – tiny floating candles that emerged after dusk; cosy cushions in awkward corners that softened the place. She had an eye, there was no doubt about it.

But, mixing a new batch of cakes, sprinkling the coconut with a light hand and switching the white sugar to brown to intensify the depth of flavour, she couldn’t help thinking about Helena. They’d never fallen out, not even when she’d asked Helena to save that one-legged pigeon. They’d always just got on; she couldn’t bear the idea of not sharing with her what Pearl was up to and all the other gossip. She thought about phoning, but you couldn’t phone Helena at work, it was awkward, she always had her hand up someone’s bottom or was holding a severed toe or something. She’d go round. And take a gift.

Issy met Helena on the way.

‘I was just coming over …’ said Helena. ‘I’m so, so so—’

‘No, I am,’ said Issy. ‘I’m happy for you, honestly,’ said Helena. ‘I just want you to be happy.’

‘Me too!’ said Issy. ‘Please, let’s not fight.’

‘No,’ said Helena. The two girls embraced in the street.

‘Here,’ said Issy, handing over the piece of paper she’d been carrying about all day.

‘What’s that?’ said Helena. Then, as she stared at it, she understood. ‘The recipe! No way! Oh my God!’

‘Well,’ said Issy. ‘Now you have your heart’s desire.’

Helena smiled. ‘Come back,’ she said. ‘Come and have a cup of tea. It’s still your flat.’

‘I should get back,’ said Issy. ‘Got to see my man, you know.’

Helena nodded. She did know. Which didn’t make it any less odd, as they hugged tightly once again and parted, for them to head off home, but going in different directions.

Helena had given her her mail too. And Issy’s heart had sunk. More recipes; but they were ones she’d already had, or things that didn’t make sense. She’d spoken to Keavie on the phone, who’d said yes, he had been on good form when she’d seen him, but overall things weren’t good, and to pop in whenever she could, which she did the next day.

To her surprise, when she reached the hospital, someone was already in the room; a short man with a hat on his knee, sitting on the chair next to the bed, chatting away. When he turned round she realized she knew his face but for a second she couldn’t place him. Then she did: it was the ironmonger.

‘What are you doing here?’ she said, rushing over to kiss Gramps, so very pleased to see him.

‘A darling girl!’ said Gramps. ‘I am mostly but not completely sure which one. This delightful man has been keeping me company.’

Issy eyed him shrewdly. ‘Well, that’s kind of you.’

‘Not at all,’ said the man. He put out his hand. ‘Chester.’

‘Issy. Thank you for the keyring,’ she said, suddenly shy. The man smiled back, shy too.

‘I met your grandfather through your shop. We’ve become good friends.’

‘Gramps?’ said Issy.

Her grandfather smiled weakly. ‘I just asked him to keep an eye on you.’

‘You asked him to spy!’

‘You use a microwave! What next, margarine?’

‘Never,’ said Issy vehemently.

‘It’s true,’ said Chester. ‘She has never had a margarine delivery.’