That evening, the clip of Simon reading the email was on every news channel in Britain. SAME 21 CRIMPS: Supermarket boss ordered copy of grandmother's pasty.

Greenfields suspended Martin Kerr the next morning. A week later, he was gone. Greenfields' chief executive, a man called Robert Dunn, put out a new statement. This one was very different. He apologised. Properly. To me, to my staff, and to the other three suppliers.

The Groceries Code Adjudicator opened a full investigation. It took a year. At the end, Greenfields was fined millions of pounds for breaking the rules on how supermarkets must treat their suppliers. The listing fees. The late payments. The wastage charges. All of it.

The Greenfields Finest Cornish Pasty disappeared from every shelf in the country.

And Greenfields paid me back. Every penny of the fees, every wastage charge, every pound from the price cuts I'd been forced into. Plus compensation for the recipe.

It was enough to pay off the bank. Enough to keep my house.

Enough to bring back fifteen people.

I rang every one of them myself.

Mr Treloar answered on the first ring.

“I knew it,” he said. “I knew you'd sort them out, maid. When do I start?”