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“Ooo,” said Carys, dark eyes lighting up. “Are princes involved?” She waggled her thick eyebrows again. “Or princesses?”

“No,” Ellie said shortly.

“It’s a corporate thing,” Mo said. They scratched at the five o’clock shadow on their chin. “Derpington’s… Darlings? Desmond’s?”

“Darlington’s,” Ellie said, giving up. “It’s their hundred and fiftieth anniversary and they want an event.”

“And you would be the perfect person to plan it,” Carys said, grinning.

“I wish.” Ellie sighed and fully gave up, laying her head on the cool of her desk. “We really need the business,” she said miserably.

“You haven’t lost it yet,” Carys said, clomping over to lay a hand on Ellie’s shoulder. “Trust to the universe, Els. And if you don’t get this, then something else will show up.”

“We’d better get this,” said Mo, finally getting up and coming to perch on the edge of Ellie’s desk. “The payment for the party is one thing, but the publicity we’d get for running a show like that, we’d be run off our feet with orders. We could really use a win on this one.”

“Way to take the pressure off,” Ellie said, voice smothered by the surface of her desk. With one hand she reached for hermouse and clicked the refresh button on her email box, lifting her head just enough to see that there were no new mails. She groaned and lowered her head again.

“Come on,” Carys said, clapping Ellie on the shoulder. “I’ll take you out to lunch, my treat.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Ellie said, stomach grumbling at the thought of food.

“I don’t have to, but I want to,” said Carys. “You too, Mo. Get your skates on. What do you think? The Ritz or the caf down the road?”

Mo cocked their head to one side and sniffed. “To be honest, I was disappointed with the tomato sauce vintages at the Ritz last time.”

Carys laughed and Ellie managed a weak smile. “Caf it is then,” said Carys. “Come on, sausage sarnies wait for no man. Or woman.” She paused infinitesimally. “Or Enby.”

“Thank you for being inclusionary,” said Mo.

“That’s not even a word,” Carys said.

“Is so. It means the opposite of exclusionary, and that’s a word,” Mo said, going to their desk and picking up a leather jacket from the back of their chair.

Ellie lifted her head and smiled, letting the worry drain away a little. She needed this contract. The company needed the contract. Mo was right that the publicity itself would be worth a fortune. But she was also lucky, and she knew it.

Not just lucky because she’d managed to eke her way out of a tiny council flat in East London. That wasn’t really luck, anyway, that was hard work, pure and simple. But lucky because she had people like Mo and Carys.

Lucky because life had to be about more than just working, right? Carys appeared behind her and started physically lifting her from her desk chair.

“Okay, okay,” Ellie laughed. “I’m coming.”

“Two sausage sandwiches for you,” Carys said, letting go. “You’re light as a feather.”

“I’m a perfectly healthy weight,” Ellie countered.

“Inclusionary is a word, right, El?” Mo asked.

And they chattered themselves out of the office.

THE FLAT WAS so tiny it might as well have been a mouse-hole. Standing in the living room, Ellie could touch all four walls if she turned in a tight circle. And the bedroom was so small that she’d had to compromise with a small double bed, and even then she sometimes smacked her head on the wall if she turned over too fast.

“Pspspspsps,” she said, rattling Constable’s food jar.

The cat dashed out from under the couch, meowing and headbutting her shins as she bent down to feed him.

“There you go, Con. How was your day? Plenty of birds to watch today?” she said, stroking his knobbly back and long tail.

The flat wasn’t even hers, or theirs now that she had Constable.