The Little Brooklyn Bakery. Julie Caplin

it does. I don’t want to be rude, but this would lower the tone of a rubbish tip.’ She shot the wheels a dubious look. ‘Does it actually work or is it like Fred Flintstone’s car and we have to run?’

      ‘I’ll have you know, Gertie …’ he paused and patted the car door, ‘is a loyal if occasionally temperamental old girl. She doesn’t like winter mornings, but then who does?’

      ‘As long as she starts today and gets these cakes to … wherever we’re going, I don’t mind. Bella is counting on us.’

      Suddenly serious, Todd straightened up and pulled his keys out of his pocket. ‘I wouldn’t let Bella down.’ Then his face lightened and with his usual engaging grin, he said, holding out his hand, ‘Come on, strap yourself in and prepare yourself for the ride of your life.’

      ‘That’s what I’m worried about,’ she said primly, her eyes twinkling as she pressed her lips together, trying not to smile back at him. He was totally incorrigible. ‘I’m grateful no one round here knows me.’

      He slapped a hand to his chest. ‘Shsh! You’ll upset her.’

      Sophie climbed into the back seat next to the boxes.

      From the driver’s seat, he handed his phone back to her. ‘Here, you’ll need to navigate. The sound doesn’t work when it’s charging and it’s low on battery at the moment. I know my way until we cross Fulton Street and then I’ll need directions.’

      The car coughed to life with a roar and a bit of splutter but Todd looked unconcerned as they pulled out onto the one-way street, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel in time to the music blaring out from the radio. Interestingly, Sophie noticed as she looked at the floor and the back seat, the inside of the car was absolutely pristine.

      ‘Take the next right here,’ said Sophie, holding Todd’s iPhone in one hand, while the other kept a gentle guard on the boxes of cupcakes to keep them from sliding around the back of the car. ‘We must be nearly there … Yes,’ she checked the screen, ‘up this street and then second on the right.’

      ‘Two blocks, English,’ corrected Todd, catching her eye in the mirror with his usual sunny smile. ‘We’ll make an American of you yet.’

      ‘You can try but I come from a long line of very English English-folk.’ As evidenced in the heavy leather-bound Bible in the library which traced the family tree right back to the court of Charles II.

      ‘Challenge accepted,’ said Todd.

      ‘What? That wasn’t a challenge, just an observation.’ Sophie rolled her eyes at him in the mirror but of course received his usual grin.

      Todd’s battered car turned the final corner, into a street of brownstones.

      ‘It’s nice round here.’

      ‘Up and coming. They film The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt here. And a couple of other things.’

      ‘I’ve heard of it, but not seen it.’

      ‘Big hit. Funny.’

      Sophie resolved to check it out on Netflix. That would give her something to watch this week.

      With the cakes safely delivered, she hopped into the front seat of the car for the return trip.

      ‘Have you had breakfast?’ asked Todd.

      ‘No, it was too early and now it’s too late.’

      ‘Welcome to New York, it’s never too late for brunch, unless you’ve got plans.’

      Sophie hesitated for a second, remembering her conversation with Kate the previous evening. A few weeks ago she wouldn’t have thought twice, in fact she’d probably have already suggested a coffee or breakfast.

      ‘No, no plans. Brunch would be … great. If you’ve got time.’ It would be a fabulous way of killing a few hours and would make her feel that she was at least starting to make an effort to get out and about.

      With a rueful grimace, she realised that actually not much had changed. In London, she’d spent a lot of hours at the weekends killing time. Large chunks of her life had been held in abeyance while she waited for James to be around. It made her cross to realise how much time she’d wasted. On weekday evenings she’d been desperate to savour every precious moment of his company, so they’d stayed in the flat. Of course, now it made complete sense. It had lessened the chance of discovery, bumping into someone who might know him. Missed trips to the theatre, to exhibitions, to new restaurants. Not going to Kew Gardens at Christmas, not going to Notting Hill Carnival, not going to Proms in the Park.

      And now she was in danger of repeating the same mistake here. Of staying indoors. Not venturing out on her own.

      ‘For you, I’ve got all the time in the world.’

      Sophie rolled her eyes again. ‘Yeah, I bet you say that to all the girls.’

      ‘Of course I do.’ He flashed her an irrepressible grin. ‘There’s a great place near Bella’s. Café Luluc. It will be ridiculously busy, but worth it. A Mexican family runs it. They do fantastic brunch. I can go get rid of the car, if you don’t mind waiting in line.’

      ‘You mean queuing,’ Sophie’s repressive tone was tempered with a wry smile.

      ‘You queue, I’ll wait in line.’ He winked at her.

      ‘Go on, then.’ She couldn’t help smile back at him, his easy-going cheerful attitude was infectious.

      Standing in the sunshine, watching everyone on Smith Street, was no hardship. Todd had told her he’d be a while, as despite his resident’s permit, it could be tricky finding a parking space. She didn’t mind the wait; it was fun people watching, especially in a different city. Why hadn’t she done this before?

      Experience told her that a queue this long meant that the food would be worth every minute. It also gave her plenty of time to give the menu a thorough examination. Her passion for food and English collided in happy accident, after she spectacularly failed her A levels. Deciding to take a year out, she got a part-time job in admin at the local paper and a waitressing job in a newly opened gastro-pub in the village. The food at The White Hare in Haresfoot was some of the best she’d ever tasted and when she wrote a review and showed it to George, the editor of the paper, he promptly published it and gave her a job writing a food column.

      ‘What’s with the frown?’ asked Todd when he finally joined her in the queue.

      ‘It’s so hard, I can’t decide whether to have the eggs Florentine or the brioche French toast with apple compote. Or maybe I should try the omelette with wild mushrooms and Asiago cheese. I’ve no idea what Asiago cheese is.’

      ‘So why would you try it?’

      Sophie took off her sunglasses and gave him her best schoolteacher reproving stare. ‘It’s important for your food education.’

      ‘Right.’ Todd nodded, for once trying to keep the smile from his face.

      ‘I’m serious. You should never stop trying new things. You might miss out on something amazing.’

      ‘I’ll take your word for it. So how did you get into the whole food-writing thing?’

      By the time Sophie had told him the full story, they were ushered to a booth at the back of the restaurant and sat down on red vinyl seats at a white-clothed table. When the couple sitting next to them had their food served, Sophie couldn’t help leaning over and asking what they’d ordered.

      They responded with instant open friendliness and enthusiasm that made her doubly ashamed that this was her first proper weekend outing since she’d been here.

      ‘Now I’m even more undecided,’ she confided to Todd, sneaking another look at their neighbours’ eggs Benedict. ‘They look yummy.’ She strained her neck, watching a waiter taking out three plates to a table near the front of the restaurant. ‘Everything