Summer at Tiffany's by Karen Swan

tea during her stint in New York and they had long ago moved on from bog-standard PG Tips to the more delicate and rarefied strains of boutique tea companies – Prince & Sons was their new favourite and Cassie sent regular batches over to him, as it wasn’t yet available in the US.
    They walked into the kitchen, her visitors staring in amazement at the racks of cakes – madeleines, eclairs, macaroons, millefeuilles – stacked high on the worktops.
    â€˜So
someone
was up early,’ Bas said with an arched eyebrow.
    Cassie reached for the espresso caplet and dropped it into the coffee machine. ‘Just getting ahead for a big job we’ve got on Saturday,’ she said, avoiding his eye. She knew that he knew she baked when she was stressed.
    â€˜But these pastries won’t keep,’ Anouk argued, finger-pinching a flake of millefeuille.
    â€˜They freeze well.’
    Bas’s hand reached for a warm macaroon.
    â€˜Enough. Those are for Arch.’
    â€˜Really?’ Bas said. ‘You honestly think that’s what the doctor’s going to order for him after a major heart attack? Sugar and fats?’
    â€˜Oh.’ Cassie sagged dispiritedly. She hadn’t thought of that. ‘Well, just a couple. I don’t want anything happening to you too.’
    â€˜To me? Ol’ snake hips?’ Bas grinned, biting into one of them and closing his eyes in pleasure. ‘Ugh! I’m
starving
.’
    â€˜If I’d known you were coming, I’d have got in some bacon and black pudding.’ Another acquired taste they had bonded over.
    â€˜There’s always elevenses,’ he grinned, shrugging his eyebrows hopefully.
    The kettle boiled and Cassie turned away, aware of looks being passed behind her back as she reached for the cups. ‘Stop that.’
    â€˜We’re worried about you,’ Bas said, advancing with concern.
    â€˜It’s Arch you should be worried about.’
    â€˜Of course! And we are. It’s why we’re here. But is that all that’s really going on in your life right now?’ His eyes flicked over to the half-empty bottle of vodka she’d forgotten to return to the freezer last night, the spoon still in the empty tub of Phish Food ice cream. ‘Where’s Henry?’
    Cassie’s hand hovered above the kettle for a moment before she began to pour. ‘He’s at Suzy’s. Hattie’s down looking after Velvet, so he’s keeping her company, what with Suze staying overnight at the hospital.’
    â€˜Why didn’t you go too?’ Anouk’s voice was direct, as ever, and Cassie knew if she turned, she’d see that all-knowing look in her friend’s eyes.
    â€˜Because Hattie’s in the spare room, so Henry was sleeping on the sofa. It doesn’t seem right to sleep in Suze and Arch’s room when . . .’ Her voice trailed away as she tried not to remember the image of Archie wired up like a circuit board. She turned round with the cups in her hands, keeping her eyes down. ‘Anyway, it was only for the night, and I saw Hattie yesterday morning when she arrived.’
    Her eyes met Anouk’s fleetingly as she handed over the cup of coffee, but that was all it took for Cassie to know Anouk had already guessed at their fight. ‘Smells good,’ was all she said.
    â€˜You must have been up while it was still dark to get over here,’ Cassie said, changing the subject and walking the four paces across the small, glossy white Ikea kitchen and heaving the recycling box of empties out of the way. She opened the back door, letting in the riotous birdsong that was only ten feet away, and they all settled themselves on the various steps of the fire escape, both Cassie and Bas automatically leaving the prized upturned bucket for Anouk. ‘I’m assuming you came in from Paris together?’
    She looked at Bas, who had rested his head against the whitewashed wall and