“I don’t know. I thought you or Mum might know.” Paula had been asked to supply two dozen little cakes, which she’d dutifully dropped in at the kitchen when they first arrived. The cakes had been swooped on and inspected closely by an older woman Paula hadn’t met before. She had looked down her nose, prodded a couple with her outstretched finger then declared them acceptable, even though they were a little tight.

Paula’s mother frowned. “I don’t know. I’ve never heard the expression…unless she meant dry.”

“The cheek of her,” Alison said. “How could she know what they were like without tasting them?”

A tall woman swished past with a tray of afternoon tea.

“That’s her,” Paula whispered. “I reckon she could even tell Rowena what to do.”

“I don’t know about tight cakes but she looks like she’s got big buns.” Alison giggled.

Paula looked at the back of the woman as she leaned over a table to put down a plate of food. Her dress was snug across her well-proportioned rear end, which was accentuated by the bow of her apron pulled tight around her middle. Then Paula noticed the bright pink icing on one of the cakes on the plate.

“Oh dear.” She put her fingers to her cheek. “Those poor people are getting one of my tight cakes.”

She looked at her sister and they both burst out laughing.

“You girls, behave yourselves,” their mother spoke with mock severity. “I’m sure your cakes are just fine, Paula. Now I want to go back and chat to Monica. She doesn’t have any customers at the moment.”

Paula turned and looked over at the stall where Monica Brown had an array of her beautiful garments. “Are you planning on buying something?”

“I’ve had an idea about my singing group and I want to sound her out.”

“It’s a bit far for her to travel to join your singing group, Mum,” Alison quipped.

Their mother frowned at Alison then at Paula. “You girls are ganging up on me today. You might be too big to send to your rooms but I am still your mother.” She broke into a grin and reached across to pat Alison, then Paula, on the cheek.

“What do you want to talk to Monica about?” Paula basked in the enjoyment of being with her family.

“Our group goes to nursing homes and fairs and we sing. We all wear white blouses and black skirts or pants but we wanted something else to brighten up the outfits. I showed them that scarf you gave me when I was here last time, Paula. You said it came from Dara’s shop but evidently it was Monica who made it.”

“She probably did. Monica makes all kinds of things,” Paula said.