A man encased in a long white apron, with his sleeves held away from his wrists by elasticated metal bracelets around his upper arms, opened the door before she reached it. A bell rang above her head as she entered, and again as the door closed.

‘Welcome to Café Vegetaria,’ he said, and showed her to an empty table.

‘Thank you. I am in rather a hurry, so could you just bring me tea, please? And maybe a sandwich. Ham and mustard, if you have it?’

‘I can offer you the tea, madam, but not the ham sandwich. This is a vegetarian establishment.’

‘Oh?’ Ursula, normally unflustered, found herself suddenly without a response.

‘We have cheese sandwiches, with or without pickle, or perhaps you would prefer a nice warming bowl of leek and potato soup?’

Ursula had no desire to find somewhere else to have a meal, and she was already seated, so to stand and leave now would be embarrassing. This would have to suffice. ‘Do you have no meats at all?’

‘None.’ The man glanced up at the clock on the wall. ‘But we are still serving our sixpenny lunch. Soup and bread, and then a hot savoury course, which today is a rather splendid beetroot and carrot crumble with vegetable gravy.’ He paused. ‘All followed by pudding with cream.’

‘That sounds like quite a lot,’ she replied, distracted by the large posters on the walls. ‘If I could just see the menu, that would be helpful.’

‘Of course.’ He left, returning with a folded card which bore the words ‘Café Vegetaria’ on the front.

She scanned it quickly. ‘I’ll have a pot of tea, and some of the beetroot crumble, please.’ She glanced at the loaded plates of the nearby customers. ‘Just a half portion will be sufficient, I think.’

He brought the food a few minutes later, along with a leaflet headed ‘Vegetarian? Why not?’ and left her to read it in peace.

Ursula was suddenly famished. She broke up the crumble with her knife and fork, and while she waited for it to cool, she picked up the leaflet and studied it. A half-memory of something she had read in the past danced around the edge of her thoughts. Something about suffragettes being vegetarians. She set the leaflet aside and picked up the menu to look at it properly. At the bottom, below the details of sixpenny teas and shilling dinners, she read: ‘The promoters of this venture give not less than 50 per cent higher remuneration to their helpers than is paid elsewhere.’ Below this were two more words. ‘No tipping.’