Julie Caplin - The Little Café in Copenhagen - Fall in love and escape the winter blues with this wonderfully heartwarming and feelgood novel

When I handed back the camera to Fiona, she tucked it away, her face pink with pleasure.

‘I think you might just have got yourself a job as official photographer,’ I said. ‘I wonder if we might buy some of them for the campaign.’

‘No, I’ll send them to you.’

‘No,’ interjected Ben, shooting me an unfriendly scowl, ‘You charge for them. They’re bloody good and it’s business. You own the copyright. Don’t let anyone take advantage of you.’

Everyone was diverted by the arrival of the coffee and I gave into temptation and kicked him under the table, not quite as hard as I would have liked to.

I glared at him and said in a low voice ‘I offered to buy them.’

‘Touchy, aren’t we?’ His superior smile wound me up even more.

‘I didn’t like the insinuation that I might take advantage.’

‘Wouldn’t be the first time, would it?’

I rolled my eyes at him. ‘God, you’re like a dog with a bone. Bear a grudge much? When are you going to let it go?’

He grinned like a small boy in the playground, which is exactly how he was bloody behaving.

‘Never?’

‘Guys, what’s everyone having?’ asked Sophie in an overloud voice as the very pretty Danish waitress finally came to take our order.

Sophie waved her fork at me. ‘Kate, this herring is delicious. Do you want to try some? Come on everyone, you’ve got to try something. It’s good for your food education.’

I had a feeling we were going to become well acquainted with that phrase over the next few days.

In the end, spoilt for choice, we’d ordered a selection to share, although Sophie insisted that everyone try the four types of herring despite their reservations.

Like everyone else, I didn’t fancy herring, not being a big fish lover but the expression of eager expectation on Sophie’s face, made me lead the charge and grab a fork to poke at the nearest thing on the plate, a piece of rye and caraway bread with a herring, carrot and ginger mix on top.

‘Wow,’ I said as the flavours hit my tastebuds with a satisfying zing, ‘That’s gorgeous.’ I went back for a second bite, eyeing the concoction with far more enthusiasm. ‘Really,’ I looked around at the others, ‘you should try it.’

Sophie beamed like a proud mama as everyone else, even Avril, took forkfuls from the dishes she’d pushed into the middle of the table.

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