“You kept the old pictures,” said Sally, pointing to the vintage prints.

“They fit the place somehow,” Annie replied, and Sally bobbed her head in agreement.

“Oh, I do wish you’d have a proper opening ceremony,” Gemma pouted.

“It’s only a pop-up,” Annie reasoned. “If it was a permanent fixture I might have, but sadly, it isn’t.”

“The Willow Bay Historical Society aren’t best pleased,” said Maeve.

“No,” Annie agreed, biting her lip.

“They’ll come round,” said Gemma. “They just need to see you as a custodian of the history, rather than a hijacker.”

“Your sunshine-and-rainbows outlook is really quite refreshing,” said Sally.

“Thank you,” Gemma said, unable to flatten out her grin. She held up a bottle of wine. “Right! Let’s get started.”

The women took their seats, Maeve digging out handfuls of crisps from the bowl in the middle of the table with her big, rough hands. They each pulled out their copies of Nicholas Nickleby, except Maeve, who once again tapped her head; Sally’s copy was particularly dog-eared.

“That school,” Gemma began. “Dotheboys Hall. Made me cry, it was so awful!”

“Everything makes you cry,” said Maeve. “You cry at adverts for cat food.”

“Don’t tell me you weren’t touched by the plight of those poor children, Maeve,” Gemma admonished. “Even you aren’t that hard.”

“Of course I was,” said Maeve.

“It wasn’t entirely fictional,” added Sally. “It was a crappy time to be alive if you were without social standing or money.”

“When Nicholas whooped Wackford Squeers’s arse, I almost yelled for joy,” said Annie.

“Poor Smike,” Gemma lamented. “What a sad little life. He barely had a glimpse of happiness. All that fear and pain.”

“I think Smike was Dickens’s comment on society. Yes, he wound the story up in a neat bow for the most part. But in reality, many people lived hard, short lives. Smike epitomized their plight,” said Sally.

“I agree,” said Annie. “Dickens was giving a voice to the people who had none. It wasn’t the poor reading his work; most of them wouldn’t have been able to read, let alone afford the stories. He was trying to reach the socially buoyant.”

“What did you think of the female portrayals?” asked Sally.

“Usual driveling bints,” said Maeve. “They’re either too sensitive or too stupid.”

“I give you Kate and her mother,” said Annie, topping up Gemma’s and her own wineglass.

“The virtuous fainting virgin and the prattling self-absorbed windbag,” Sally offered.

“What did you think of Nicholas?” asked Gemma, a little dreamily.

“I think he was too pious to be good in the sack,” said Annie.

“I disagree!” trilled Gemma. “I think Nicholas showed great passion. Especially for Madeline Bray.”

“But he’d have kept his socks tucked into his pajamas on his wedding night,” said Sally.

“Maybe he was a little too virtuous?” said Annie.