This Time Next Year(25)

‘I’ll drive you then.’

‘What?’

‘You don’t want to drive the car, I don’t have plans, I’ll take you where you need to go.’

Minnie started making shapes with her mouth to object, but she couldn’t think of anything to say. She also lacked any other options for how she was going to get everything delivered today.

Quinn followed her back into the kitchen to help her collect the pies for delivery. Leila and Bev hadn’t quite finished packing pies into cases, and Quinn cheerfully rolled up his sleeves to help with the last bits of labelling and packing.

‘These smell amazing,’ he said, taking a long slow inhale as he held one of the boxes in his hands. ‘What’s in here?’

‘That there is steak and Guinness,’ said Leila, handing him a label, ‘and these are chicken and vegetable, our two most popular flavours.’

‘I thought we were calling them Steak Gyllenhaal and Chick Jagger?’ said Minnie.

‘No,’ Leila said, shaking her head. ‘None of our customers liked those names.’

Quinn laughed as he held a box up to his nose. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever smelt a pie this good.’

‘Don’t suck all the smell out, that’s the best bit,’ said Leila, taking the box from his hands.

‘It’s the buttery pastry that makes them smell like that,’ Bev explained, ‘Minnie’s secret recipe.’

‘It’s not a secret, Bev, it’s just butter,’ Minnie laughed. ‘Butter makes everything great.’

‘Yeah, everything,’ said Fleur, gently tugging her lower lip down with the pad of her middle finger. Minnie glared at her. Leila steered Fleur out of the way, with a hand on each shoulder, then started ushering Minnie and Quinn out of the door.

‘Anyway, you guys should head off. I’m sure you have lots to catch up on, you know, first of January stuff.’

She and Bev followed them out to the car to help load the last of the boxes into the boot.

‘Blimey, people are going to think they’re paying us too much,’ said Bev.

‘Or that these are some seriously classy pies,’ said Leila, opening the passenger door for Minnie. As she shut the door she bent down and silently mouthed ‘love twins’ through the window, and made a little heart shape between her thumbs and forefingers.

Quinn tapped the first delivery address into his satnav. Minnie sat awkwardly on her hands, trying not to touch any of the beautiful cream leather.

‘How come you drive a Bentley then?’ she asked. ‘Compensating for something?’ Quinn burst out laughing. Minnie felt herself blush.

‘Sorry, I don’t know why I said that.’

Minnie glanced up to look at Quinn as he started the ignition and pulled away from the kerb. When he smiled, a fan of lines radiated out from his eyes. When he stopped smiling, some lines stubbornly remained, as though they knew they’d be used again soon, so there was no point in going away. There was something so warm and familiar about his face, though she couldn’t explain what.

‘It was my mother’s. It’s not something I would have chosen, but she doesn’t like to drive any more so she gave it to me,’ Quinn said.

He tilted his head to one side and briskly scratched his neck.

‘My mum gave me a meat thermometer for my birthday,’ said Minnie.

‘My dad got me a card saying “Happy thirty-third”,’ said Quinn.

‘I’d take the car and the card with the wrong age any day.’

Minnie gently bounced up and down on her hands; she felt fizzy with an unexplained energy, as though she’d downed eight coffees.

‘So what do you do when you’re not driving Miss Daisy around?’ she asked.

‘M’lady,’ Quinn doffed an imaginary cap, ‘nothing as interesting as owning my own pie business.’

‘Are you sure you’re not a drug dealer? This feels like a drug dealer’s car.’

Quinn laughed. ‘Bit conspicuous for a drug dealer. No, I’m a management consultant.’

‘I feel like that’s what a drug dealer would say.’

Minnie gave him a slow wink. He let out a deep rusty sort of laugh that caught in his throat. It was the kind of laugh that lulled people into an unearned familiarity. Hearing it made Minnie feel as though she was drinking hot wine by a log fire wrapped in Nordic furs. Not that she’d ever done this, but she imagined it would be a very enjoyable thing to do.



*

Their first delivery was to a social centre for the elderly near London Fields. Minnie said she would run in, Quinn could wait in the car, but he wanted to come too. Mrs Mentis, one of the regular volunteers at the centre, opened the door for them. She was a sweet lady in her late sixties. She wore purple varifocals and a chunky green cardigan trimmed with large buttons shaped like hedgehogs.

‘Oh, hello Minnie, we haven’t seen you for a while,’ she said in a soft Yorkshire accent. ‘It’s usually your man Alan who comes. He’s not poorly, I hope?’

Mrs Mentis looked up at Quinn and then moved her glasses down her nose to inspect him more closely. She pulled a grey handkerchief out of her pocket to wipe her nose.

‘Oh he’s fine,’ Minnie said, ‘just a mix-up with his van. This is Quinn, he’s helping me out today.’