Greg nodded. He led her back through the club, up another staircase and then through a double door covered in red velvet, pillared by two bald security guards.
‘I was here just a minute ago – we’re here for the birthday party,’ Greg explained. The security guard waved them through, glancing at Minnie’s chest as she walked past. Minnie folded her arms in front of her.
The party on the other side of the red velvet door was everything that the room they had come from was not: the music was at a normal volume, the crowd looked beautifully dressed and sophisticated, waiters were topping up champagne and nobody was being sick over anyone. The exterior curved wall of the room was floor-to-ceiling glass, giving an incredible 180-degree view of the city of London beyond. Minnie immediately felt intimidated. This was a rich persons’ party, a black tie one at that – she couldn’t look more out of place. Minnie had cooked for enough rich people to know how they reacted to people like her; they would patronise her, or worse, look right through her. If she had been wearing the right armour she could have done a good impression of someone who didn’t care, but her skimpy vest top was not it.
‘Greg! You didn’t tell me it was black tie?’ she hissed.
‘Black tie is a bourgeois construct, Minnie. I wouldn’t wear it to my own funeral.’ Greg scanned the room and then waved to a tall blonde girl in a tight red dress. ‘Lucy!’ The girl turned, gave a smile of recognition, then started making her way through the crowd towards them. ‘Better late than never, hey,’ Greg said, reaching out to touch her arm. ‘This is Minnie. Someone was sick on her shirt on the way in.’
‘Hi,’ said Lucy. Her pillowy lips closed over perfect straight teeth into a sympathetic smile. ‘Sorry about the sick. It’s ridiculous they make you wade through all the plebs to get up to the VIP suite.’
Minnie shook her head, shrugging it off.
‘Quite a party,’ she said, looking around at all the free-flowing booze. How much would a party like this cost?
‘It’s my boyfriend’s birthday on the first. We thought we’d use it as an excuse to throw an excessive New Year’s Eve bash,’ Lucy said with a flick of her hand. Then she turned to Minnie with a beaming smile, ‘Hey, didn’t Greg say you were a first of January baby too, Minnie?’
‘Oh, Happy Birthday,’ Greg said hurriedly. Lucy turned to look at him wide-eyed.
‘Greg, you didn’t even say Happy Birthday to her yet? Dump him, Minnie!’ Lucy laughed and nudged Greg in the ribs. Greg blushed and looked at his feet.
‘I’m not big on birthdays,’ Minnie smiled weakly.
They stood in silence for a moment.
‘So, um, Lucy is the food columnist at the paper,’ Greg said. ‘I’m queuing up for a jammy gig like that. I saw you were at La Petite Assiette Rouge last week. So bloody jealous, Luce.’
‘It has its downsides, darling. I’m getting fatter and fatter the amount of Michelin-star dinners I’m being forced to eat. I feel like a foie gras goose being stuffed to bursting,’ said Lucy.
Minnie glanced down at Lucy’s svelte, gym-toned figure in the skin-tight look-how-thin-I-am dress.
‘Oh diddums, such a hardship,’ said Greg, nudging his elbow into hers. ‘Smart, beautiful girl force-fed fine food – Human rights campaigners on standby!’
Lucy threw her head back and gave a half-snorting, half-silent laugh, then she clutched Greg’s arm, as though she might fall over.
‘You must have an absolute hoot with this one, Minnie.’
Minnie nodded, though she wondered if Greg’s hilarious newspaper headlines might be starting to get annoying.
‘Mins is in the food world too,’ said Greg, standing a little taller. ‘Runs her own catering business in the charity sector.’
‘That sounds interesting,’ said Lucy, looking over Minnie’s shoulder and waving to someone behind her.
‘I don’t think making pies for the elderly counts as being in the “food world”, but thanks for bigging me up, hun,’ Minnie said, rubbing Greg’s back.
‘Do you cater events? Maybe I’ve come across you?’ asked Lucy, turning her attention back to Minnie.
‘No, we just do pies for the elderly. The company’s called No Hard Fillings, it’s a bit like Meals on Wheels.’
Lucy blinked her eyes a few times.
‘No hard feelings?’ she said.
‘No,’ said Minnie, ‘No Hard Fillings, as in pie fillings. It’s um, supposed to be funny.’
‘Oh, I see. Ha-ha,’ Lucy said, wrinkling her nose and giving another silent laugh. ‘Well that must be very … fulfilling.’
Greg let out a snorting cackle. ‘Good one Luce,’ he tapped his elbow to Lucy’s. ‘See, the thing is, Minnie’s company would be a lot more successful if she didn’t keep giving stuff away for free and employing a load of time bandits with zero work ethic.’
‘I don’t, and that’s not true,’ Minnie said, bowing her head.
‘Well, it sounds jolly rewarding,’ said Lucy. ‘I find old people so sweet, don’t you?’
‘Some of them are sweet, some of them are total knobs, same as the rest of us,’ said Minnie. Greg coughed loudly and Minnie gave him a firm pat on the back.
‘But you’re planning to branch out, aren’t you Min?’ Greg said, recovering his composure. ‘That’s her current customer base, but she could easily expand; do weddings, corporates, high-calibre events, all sorts. Maybe Lucy could hook you up with some contacts?’
‘Sure, sure, happy to help,’ Lucy said, waving at someone across the room and starting to move away. ‘Listen, I must go mingle. Make yourselves at home; drink our champagne – we ordered way too much. And don’t worry about arriving late, the party’s hardly started.’
Lucy cocked her head and flashed them both a well-rehearsed hostess smile, then with a swish of long silky hair she turned to go. Minnie watched Greg’s eyes follow her across the room.
Seeing them standing empty-handed, a waiter came over to offer them champagne. They both took one and went to clink glasses but missed, Greg’s champagne flute bumping into Minnie’s wrist. He quickly retracted his hand and took a large swig of drink.
‘Happy New Year,’ said Minnie.
‘Happy New Year,’ said Greg, then after a pause, ‘and Happy, er, Birthday. I, um, I have a present for you back at my flat. Sorry, I didn’t have a chance to wrap it.’
‘Don’t worry. I said not to get me anything.’
Greg shuffled his weight between each foot, his eyes flitting around the room.
‘She’s a useful person to know, Lucy Donohue, I told you it would be worth coming tonight. She knows everyone who’s anyone in your sector. You should never underestimate how far good contacts will get you in life, Minnie.’
‘I doubt she knows everyone who’s anyone in the pie sector,’ Minnie said, then, affecting a posh voice, ‘unless it’s pastry chefs making choux pie-ettes out of foie gras at la petite rue de la frenchy french.’ She stuck out her tongue and then laughed.
‘I don’t know why you always do that,’ Greg said. ‘I’m trying to help you.’