Joan laughs loudly. Rita’s mouth moves for a few seconds, but no words are coming out.

“They’re so yummy,” Joan says. “Charlie makes beautiful cakes and biscuits.”

“He does indeed.” Misha shoots me an inscrutable glance.

“Oh, you’ve had them before?” she asks, startled.

“Oh yes, I’m very familiar with Charlie’s buns,” he says. “Very springy.”

There’s a stunned silence, and I laugh nervously. “Fnarr fnarr.” The group stares at me, and I turn determinedly to Rita. “Please go on, Rita.”

“Are you sure?” she says, a slight snap to the question. I nod, and she inclines her head regally. “Well, of course, Charlie. You are the boss, after all.” She smiles at the group and many of them shift awkwardly on their chairs. Mr Pinter holds his Bakewell tart to his chest protectively as if she’s going to take it away from him at any second. “Hmm, as I said, I thought that the central relationship was handled beautifully, but occasionally it seemed a bit overdone to me. Too much reliance on metaphors and a simplistic view of love.”

Misha shifts. “Yes, but what did you think of the main character’s reaction of flight when they slept together for the first time? Did you think it was wise? Or a bit of a gitty thing to do?”

There’s a stunned silence, and I blink and look down at the book. I can’t remember that, I think, opening the cover. Where did he… Oh!

I glare at Misha, who sits back happily and bites into his tart.

“Erm,” Rita says in a high, flustered voice, rifling through her own copy of the book. “Erm, I really can’t remember that bit. I think I must have skimmed over it.”

“Say it isn’t so,” Joan says happily, and Rita glares at her.

Joan turns to Misha, taking a massive swig of her wine. “Please elaborate, Misha. I must say it’s very nice to have new blood in the group. Groups can get so stale, don’t you think? Rather like councils when one member has been in power for too long. When everyone is just ripe for the sound of a new person’s voice.”

I swallow hard, but Misha hasn’t the sense to seem even remotely scared at what looks very much like an attempted coup.

“I’d be delighted to,” he says smoothly. “When the two main characters slept together, the hero buggered off before the other character woke up. I found it disturbing and bothersome, to tell you the truth. Entirely spoilt my enjoyment of the rest of the book.” He stares into space with a winsome look on his face. “Who would do such a thing in real life?”

Wanker, I mouth at him, and he shrugs happily.