‘Long may it last.’ John picked up his book and found the postcard that was marking his place. ‘And I am sure Ann will be delighted to have something a grown-up lady would have. It will add to the gift considerably. I’m very pleased you chose one for yourself too. Where did you buy them in the end?’

‘In Marchmont. From a young woman who has a workshop at her home in one of the tenements there. She works from her flat, in the back room next to the kitchen.’

‘And how did you find out about her?’

‘Mrs Young gave me her details . . .’ Her voice trailed away.

‘Ah yes, I’m sure you’ve mentioned her before. She has been quite an influence over these last few weeks.’

She waited to see what he would say next.

‘So are you going to boycott the census, Ursula? Are we going to break the law? That’s what this is leading up to, I think?’ He studied the postcard as though he had never seen it before. ‘It might escape Ann’s notice that her bag is in suffragette colours, but I have certainly noticed, and so will Finlay.’

‘Break the law?’

‘It’s against the law not to complete the census, and if you’re in the house, I must put your name on the form.’

‘What do you mean, “if I am in the house”?’

‘Those are the rules.’

‘Where else would I be?’

‘You tell me.’ He studied her face.

A sudden realisation came over her. ‘You have been to Café Vegetaria!’

He nodded.

‘You have been spying on me!’

He held up his hand to stop her, but it had no effect.

The words gushed out of her. ‘I have seen over the last few weeks that I can make decisions for myself, without needing to always consult others. And I have even changed what I eat and I feel much better for it.’

‘And did I object?’ He squeezed the question in but she ignored him.

‘I’ve made new acquaintances beyond the wives of your business associates, who all talk about the world as though it is something they merely observe rather than something they might improve.’

He gave up trying to say anything meaningful and waited until she was finished.

‘I do not want to go to rallies and throw bricks through windows. I do not want to hand out leaflets or get arrested. But I have opinions, and they may be rudimentary in some spheres, but I have the right to express them, and I have the right to . . .’ She paused. ‘I have the right to try to elect a government which represents me. Me. Not you, nor the Bridge Club nor even Mrs Young. My opinions are my own. And while I’m saying all this I would like you to bring the newspaper home after work so that I may read it too.’ She ran out of steam.