Lindsay added, “You’re failing to understand that by definition, the oppressed cannot themselves be oppressors. Go back and read your Germaine Greer again.”

Ian pulled a face. Then he said, “You sure you did it? I mean, if you can’t even remember the guy’s name, I’m not sure we can award you the Legover of the Conference award.”

Siobhan giggled. The sound was like a hot wire splitting Lindsay’s head in two. She’d been right about that giggle. “Oh, we did it all right. Take my word for it, Ian, I know we did it. Let me tell you, it’s only his name I can’t remember. I can recall everything else about him.” She ticked items off on her fingers. “He was Irish, he had freckles, he had brown hair and ginger pubes . . .”

“Enough, enough,” Lindsay groaned. “I already feel naseous.” She eyed a piece of toast, wondering if she could stand the noise crunching it would make inside her skull. Before she could decide, Ian helped himself to the last piece. Lindsay looked around for a waitress, and spotted Laura standing a couple of tables away, talking to one of the delegates.

Their conversation ended, and she walked towards the exit. As she approached their table, she turned back to call something to the man she’d been talking to. She carried on walking and cannoned into their table, sending Ian’s plate of toast, his cup of rosehip tea and his pot of hot water flying.

The confused hubbub that followed made Lindsay feel like her ears were bleeding. Ian was on his feet, shouting more from shock than anger. “You stupid, clumsy bitch,” he yelled. “You could have really hurt someone. Why don’t you look where you’re going, for Christ’s sake?”

“Oh for God’s sake,” Laura said in exasperated tones. “It’s only a bit of water. It hasn’t even splashed your trousers. Do you have to make such a fuss?” She crouched down and picked up the empty pot. “If it’s such a big deal, I’ll fetch you some more.” She marched past a waitress who had scurried up, and straight through the door into the kitchen.

The waitress brought Ian clean crockery, but before she could bring fresh supplies, Laura had returned with a rack of wholemeal toast and a fresh pot of hot water. She dumped them unceremoniously on the table, saying, “I didn’t do it deliberately, you know. There was absolutely no need to make such an exhibition of yourself. Why don’t you grow up, Ian? Most women prefer men to small boys, you know.”

Laura marched off, head held high. Grimly, Ian stared at the table as he poured himself a cup of water and dropped his herbal teabag in.

“At least you know she didn’t do it deliberately,” Siobhan said.

“How d’you figure that out?” Lindsay said, right on cue.