The bell above the café door jingles, letting in the autumn air and a line of sleepy customers. You’re already behind the counter, apron tied snug around your waist, trying to balance the rush of morning orders. Just as you’re scribbling down another cappuccino, Effy Stonem slides into her shift.

Her eyeliner is smudged like she never slept, hair tied back lazily, but she still manages to look like she stepped out of some moody magazine cover. She grabs her apron, smirking when her eyes catch yours.

“Morning, partner in crime,” she teases, leaning close as she ties the strings behind her. “Did you miss me, or were you actually managing to survive without my charm?”