Old Mr Jessop helps himself to another biscuit and watches Rita’s frantic flicking through her book with every sign of enjoyment. “Didn’t read it myself,” he says cheerfully. “Far too many pages. I read in bed,” he confides. “This sort of book hurts my wrist when I’m holding it up.”

“How delightful,” Rita mutters. “Perhaps Charlie should weigh the books before he makes his selections.”

“Far too many words,” Mr Jessop says loudly. “Seems like even you didn’t have a chance to read them all this time, Rita.”

“Oh,” I say quickly as Rita flushes bright red with temper. “Shall we move on to another book?” I pick up one of the books randomly from my pile. “I found this enjoyable,” I say in a determined voice. “The two women at the centre of the story were lively characters, and the mystery was very engaging. Did anyone else read it?”

A few people nod, including Rita, who looks rejuvenated at the change in book. “Oh yes,” she says loudly. “Of course, I guessed the mystery straight away.”

“Of course you did,” Joan mutters, taking another long drink and draining her glass. She waves it at me for another refill. Unfortunately, she gets drunk easily and, if she’s drunk, she’s quite verbal with Rita. I look at her dubiously before giving in and pouring more wine.

“Yes, I find that if you study human behaviour as much as I do that there are no surprises in life,” Rita says loudly. “The characters’ behaviour was very predictable, but engaging nonetheless.”

“Really?” Misha says, cutting through her speech like a great white shark through water when it’s spotted a seal.

“Oh God,” I mutter.

“Did you say something, Charlie?” Joan asks.

“I was just going to say ‘Oh God, I hope we don’t run out of wine,’” My voice sounds slightly desperate. “You know, because of all the… wine.”

“Did you have something to say, Misha?” Joan asks, her voice slurring slightly. “I must say I like the sound of your voice. It’s very deep.”

“Thank you,” he says, smiling at her with all of his considerable charm. “I was just going to say that sometimes characters surprise us. I mean, take these two. Friends for so many years and then as soon as there’s a change in circumstance one of them can’t handle it and runs off quicker than a greyhound after a rabbit.”

“Like what?” Rita asks. “What change of circumstance?” She takes a large glug of her wine and starts to leaf through the book.

“Can’t you remember that bit?” Joan asks.

“I must have missed that part,” she says through gritted teeth, her cheeks flushing. “You know, because—”

“Of all the skimming, yes,” Joan says sympathetically. “It must be a problem having your fingers in so many pies without people asking you to stick your digits in there in the first place.”