“I beg your pardon,” Rita says loudly.

Joan takes another swig of her wine and waves her hand regally. “Granted.”

Rita stares at her. “No, I meant–”

“Okay,” I break in loudly. “Getting back to the book. Did anyone else find the mystery easy to solve? I thought that the methods of murder were fascinating and possibly an allegory of the way that society—”

“I liked the bit where the librarian was a complete wanker,” Misha says with a great deal of relish in his voice.

“Where is that?” Rita cries, turning the pages so forcefully that a couple of them rip. “I can’t remember a librarian.”

“I think Misha might be getting his books mixed up,” I say quickly, shooting him a glare. “There’s none of that behaviour in this book.”

“I might have done,” he says casually. “But it’s common behaviour amongst characters with very shallow personalities.”

“I beg your pardon,” I say, glaring at him. “It isn’t a common occurrence at all.” The group stares at me with their mouths open. “I mean to say that sometimes people make mistakes that they shouldn’t have,” I say quickly. “But then other characters don’t pick up their phones so they can apologise for their behaviour.”

“This was in the Middle Ages,” Rita says. Her hair is wild-looking from running her hands through it. “There were no phones.”

“It’s a metaphor,” I say .

A smile tugs at Misha’s mouth, but it quickly dies, and we go back to glaring at each other.

“Perhaps that character should have tried harder, rather than leaving the other person feeling like shit,” he suggests.

“Perhaps he tried and couldn’t get through because the other person was sulking like a child.”

“Perhaps the other character was very hurt and just thought, ‘Fuck him.’”

“You know, I think I’d like to read this one,” Mr Pinter breaks in. “It sounds much more interesting than the other stuff Charlie picked.”

A nerve ticks in Misha’s jaw.

“Perhaps,” I say loudly, and Mr Jessop jumps. “Perhaps the other character needs to apologise, and they just need to talk.”

“Well, that’s a very tired and predictable plot device,” Rita says disapprovingly.

Misha shrugs. “Maybe that’s all it takes,” he says.

Joan drains her glass. “Well, the wine’s all gone,” she says. “So that’s me finished. Wine always helps me deal with people. It’s never a good idea to let it run dry during book club, Charlie. Perhaps we should pick our books for next week, and Rita can make sure that she actually reads them this time.”

“I did read them,” Rita hisses. “Charlie, is it possible that you and Misha have a different copy? You know, like when they put out adult versions of the Harry Potter books?”