This Time Next Year(24)

Minnie and Leila laughed.

‘I couldn’t think of anything, isn’t that terrible?’ Bev chewed her bottom lip as she carefully transferred pies from the cooling rack into cases.

‘Bev, I think you’ve got enough to worry about with your forgetfulness, I wouldn’t be getting stressed about global warming too,’ said Leila.

‘She’s got eco-anxiety, it’s all the rage right now, all the celebs have got it,’ said Fleur, poking her head around the doorway from reception. ‘My friend had it so badly she stopped showering and shopping for like a month, and just lived in the dark with no TV; well, she had the basic channels, no Netflix or Amazon. Then she invented this new biodegradable packaging that’s made of seaweed or mushrooms or some hemp shit, and now she’s like a millionaire and has a private jet, but she’s almost totally carbon-neutral so it’s fine.’

‘Is this the same friend who invented armbands?’ Minnie asked, sceptically.

‘No,’ said Fleur pointedly, ‘armbands were invented like ages ago, Minnie.’ Fleur made a huffing sound and flounced back through to reception.

‘I can’t keep up with all her famous movie director and inventor friends,’ Minnie whispered, and Leila giggled.

‘He’s here!’ Fleur called in a singsong voice from reception.

Minnie handed the box she was folding to Bev, pulled off her grease-stained apron and hairnet, and hurried out to meet him. Standing in their pokey reception, Quinn looked even taller than she remembered. He was dressed in jeans and a soft camel-coloured jumper with a blue Barbour jacket slung over one shoulder. He stood with his weight backwards, one leg bent, surveying the space around him like a king surveying a newly conquered land. Minnie could see Fleur was desperately trying to catch her eye, so she purposely avoided looking in her direction.

‘Hi,’ said Minnie.

‘Hi,’ said Quinn with a slow grin.

‘You really didn’t need to do this. I don’t expect people I hardly know to loan me their car at a moment’s notice just because I phone them by accident,’ Minnie said, fluffing her flattened hair out from behind her ears.

‘Was it an accident though?’ Quinn asked, slowly leaning forwards, one eyebrow raised. Minnie opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. ‘I’m joking. Besides, I wasn’t doing anything,’ Quinn broke the silence, ‘nor was my car.’

Fleur giggled, a stupid schoolgirlish giggle. Quinn gave her an indulgent smile, his eyes sparkling with approval. So predictable – she was probably just his type.

‘This is Fleur, by the way.’

Minnie gave a half-hearted wave in Fleur’s direction. Fleur jumped up to sit on the reception desk, swinging her legs childishly in front of her.

‘Have you ever had your aura read, Quinn? You know you have a really strong energy around you,’ said Fleur.

‘I haven’t,’ he said.

‘Maybe I should and come see where you’ve parked?’ Minnie suggested, before Fleur could monopolise the man with her wanton quackery.

‘So how was the rest of your birthday?’ Quinn asked as they walked down the street away from the kitchen.

‘Oh, um, great,’ Minnie said, giving him a tight smile.

He was looking at her with cool amusement, as though he somehow knew what a pathetic, depressing day she’d had yesterday. She was pretty sure Quinn Hamilton would not have spent his birthday drugging himself to sleep in an attempt to blot out the big 3–0. He’d probably spent it having sex with Lucy Donohue on a speedboat, or doing some luxurious couples spa day where you got matching dressing gowns and a salt body scrub, followed by a nut-based salad on a scenic veranda. ‘You?’

‘I spent most of it asleep in the end,’ said Quinn. ‘Tuesday was a big night.’ His eyes flashed her a conspiratorial look. Minnie cleared her throat and swallowed – was he teasing her or was he telepathic?

As they turned the corner of the street, Minnie saw an enormous black Bentley taking up most of the side road behind their building. It let out two high-toned beeps as Quinn unlocked it with a key fob.

‘This is your car?’ Minnie asked. ‘You’re kidding me, I can’t drive that.’

‘Why not?’ Quinn asked, throwing her the keys. She caught them in one hand, savouring her unlikely catch with an internal high-five.

‘It’s the size of a tank. A very expensive tank.’

Who drove a Bentley, and in this part of London? Minnie stood staring at the car, unsure what to do or say next.

‘It’s insured for anyone to drive. I’ll swing by and pick it up tomorrow.’ Quinn gave a staccato salute with his hand, then turned and started walking away.

‘Hey wait, you’re not serious?’ Minnie said, her voice squeaky with panic. ‘I honestly can’t drive this. I don’t drive in London much and when I do it’s only Greg’s Mini.’

‘Your boyfriend drives a Mini?’

Quinn turned back to face her, his eyes dancing with amusement.

‘Don’t start with the Mini Cooper jokes,’ Minnie said, her eyes narrowing.

Quinn took a large stride towards her. Minnie’s body tensed, the confidence of his gait slightly intimidating. He reached out a hand, sweeping the keys from her grasp, his fingers grazing her palm.