The Little Brooklyn Bakery. Julie Caplin

I chose to come here. And I wanted to. I’m just feeling a bit sorry for myself tonight. You’re right. I haven’t been trying enough. I haven’t been trying at all. Must try harder. I promise this weekend I will go out and start exploring. And I’ll make a bit more effort at work to get to know a few people.’

      Kate gave her a watery smile. ‘Atta girl. Sorry, I didn’t mean to nag. I miss you.’

      ‘I miss you too, but I promise I’m … or I will be OK. But you’re right. I’ve been hibernating. From now on, I’ll get out there.’

      Sophie closed her eyes as she switched off her phone. Without Kate’s voice, the apartment felt alien and empty. It was far too soon to go to bed, which was what she did most nights when the loneliness got too much to bear. Although most nights she was still awake at eleven. Staring up at the ceiling. Wishing she could turn the clock back. But that was cowardly, and it couldn’t change what James had done. Being ignorant didn’t make it any better. Or remove all the lies.

      There was a particular crack on the ceiling. It curved from the window to the corner of the room, widening at the two-thirds mark before narrowing and disappearing again. It had become a visual reminder of her battle to keep thoughts of James at bay, as if they were crowding behind that crack, trying to work their way through, and that’s when she had to work extra hard not to think of him. Not to think of all those evenings pottering happily in the kitchen, cooking special meals for him. Not to remember waking up in the mornings with his tousled dark head next to hers. Not to long for those evenings simply snuggled up on the sofa, slobbing out after work, watching some TV detective series they both enjoyed.

      With a sigh, she stood up and tucked the phone in her pocket as she looked around the kitchen. Had Kate picked up on how spotless the place was? How unnaturally she’d overdone things the previous weekend when she’d binge-watched nineteen episodes of Friends.

      Through the open window she could hear laughter floating up from the street, the pounding bass from a passing car, and smell the warm city air, a smoky mix of onions and diesel. Brooklynites had come out to play on Friday night. She stood by the window for a while, people watching. A group of young men in jeans, baggy T-shirts and back-to-front baseball caps walked together, nudging and teasing each other as they loped along the pavement, moving aside for single late returners from work, determinedly walking the last leg of their commute, bearing shopping bags like champions bringing home the bread. The cheerful noise and bustle below heightened her sense of aloneness and the paralysis that seemed to have set in, stopping her from leaving the apartment.

      What she hadn’t told Kate was that she doubted her own judgement. It had proved so false, some days she found it impossible to make a decision. It wasn’t as if she’d even decided consciously to come to New York. There was no weighing up the pros and cons, examining what it would really entail. No, she’d grabbed at the offer, grasping it with desperate, greedy hands as if it were a life-raft amidst the storm of fear, rage and utter despair.

      Just as she was about to shut the window, she heard a loud rattle from inside the building, followed by a bang, a crash and then a loud curse. ‘You’re fucking kidding me.’

      Hurrying to her door, she opened it and ventured to the top of the stairs. In an ungainly tangle of limbs, Bella sprawled on the landing at the top of the next flight of stairs below. Sophie hurried down.

      ‘What happened?’ she asked as she helped Bella up.

      Wide-eyed, Bella clutched her hand to her chest. She’d clearly given herself quite a fright. Sucking in a quick breath, she said, ‘Tripped on the last step. For a horrible darn minute, I thought I was going to take a header straight down.’ Bella’s lip quivered and she hauled herself to a seated position, rubbing at her knee. With a sniff she nodded, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

      ‘Are you OK?’ asked Sophie, feeling useless, standing over Bella.

      ‘I will b-be in a mo.’ She closed her eyes tight and carried on rubbing at her knee, her teeth gnawing at her lip. ‘I daren’t look. I’m trying to think really positive here, but right now I can’t think of a single angle. Are they all completely ruined?’

      Sophie peered down at the frosting-spattered stairs. A rainbow of bright blobs of red, yellow, blue and green was liberally dotted everywhere. Paintball splats on virtually every tread.

      ‘Difficult to tell. Some of them … might … be salvageable.’ The doubt was clear in her voice. From here they looked pretty battered.

      ‘Aw, shit!’ Bella angrily dashed at the lone tear that escaped. ‘Shit. Shit. Shit. I just spent the last three hours icing six dozen of the little fuckers for an engagement party tomorrow, and now I’ve dropped half of them.’ She rested her head on her knees, hugging them, saying in a muffled voice, ‘I’m supposed to be delivering them before I open up tomorrow morning.’ She lifted her head, sniffing as more tears ran down her face. ‘I’m going to have to s-start over,’ her breath hitched, ‘and I’m … so tired.’ She burst into noisy sobs.

      ‘Hey, it’s alright.’ Even though she didn’t know Bella that well, Sophie sank down beside her on the top step and put her arm around her shoulder.

      After several ragged breaths and discreet sniffs, Bella calmed down. ‘Shit, I’m sorry. I’m not a crier but … it’s been a tough one.’ She started to rise. ‘Aw, sheesh, look at the mess. What the hell am I going to do? It’s going to take forever to clean this up and then I’m going to have bake a new batch and let them cool before I can decorate them.’

      Sophie put a firm hand on her shoulder. ‘Just take a minute.’

      Together they surveyed the wreckage. ‘Rainbow cakes?’ asked Sophie.

      ‘Yeah, I’m starting to regret that now. I store commissions upstairs because there’s not enough room in the kitchen downstairs.’

      ‘Well, it makes for a good show,’ said Sophie, trying not to smile. There really was colour just about everywhere.

      Bella let out a tiny giggle as together they surveyed the vibrant mess. ‘I never do anything by halves.’

      ‘Perhaps you’ve missed your calling. You could always take up interior decorating. It looks very colourful.’ Together they burst out laughing.

      ‘OK,’ said Sophie, suddenly feeling like her old self. ‘First things first. We identify all those that are salvageable. You can probably scrape off the icing and redecorate some of them.’

      ‘I dunno.’ Bella winced, her face already looking a bit brighter. ‘Some look pretty darned battered. It was one of those spectacular toss-’em-all-up-in-the-air babies.’ She shook her head, a couple of red curls escaping her scarf. ‘I guess I’m lucky I didn’t take a header after them.’

      ‘Why don’t you sit down, have a coffee and a rest? You look quite shaken up and you probably want some ice on that knee. And then I can start cleaning up down here and we can make a plan. I can help. Be your assistant. And with two of us, it’ll be a lot easier.’

      Bella stopped and looked back up the stairs. ‘It’s Friday night? Aren’t you on your way out somewhere?’

      ‘No. Thought I’d have a night in.’ Sophie’s smile was so brittle, she wondered if her face might crack.

      ‘Normally I’d say no, it’s fine, but I’m so pooped, I could really use the help. But I … I can’t let you clean up.’

      ‘Yes, you can,’ said Sophie with a determined glint in her eye. ‘Leave it to me. Give me that tray, and have you got a bin bag?’

      Sophie helped Bella hobble up to her flat and settled her in a seat, with a bag of frozen corn on her knee. Bella’s flat was similar in layout to the one below, except it had a ladder reaching up to the ceiling in the kitchen and a lot of empty shelves, with plastic cupcake holders.

      ‘I normally transport the cakes in those, but they only hold a dozen and I was being lazy and trying to do one trip down the stairs,