‘OK, everyone, let me just check that you’re all here.’ She smiled. Having seen their photos and commented on their writing, in some ways she felt she knew these people already. ‘Maybe when I’ve read your name and you’ve confirmed you’re here, you could tell us a bit about yourself for the benefit of the group.’

‘It would be quite hard to confirm we’re here if we’re not,’ said one young man who Laura identified as the one Dermot hadn’t wanted on the course, in case he was a pain. It looked as if Dermot had been right. She didn’t look at him now but she knew he was looking at her knowingly.

‘Very true,’ she replied solemnly, and started reading the list. ‘Gareth Ainsley?’

Rather to her annoyance, it was the young man who answered. ‘That’s me.’

‘And what are you writing, Gareth?’ Although she knew from his covering letter, and having read his work she wanted to hear him actually say it, for the others.

‘I don’t think that pigeonholing writers is very constructive. I’m not prepared to put my work into a slot decided by the publishers.’

Laura bit her lip to hide her emerging smile. Boy did this young man have a lot to learn! Then she realised he was about the same age as she was. ‘OK, Gareth, but just to give us an idea, name a writer whose work you admire and who may have influenced you.’

Reluctantly he mumbled a few names of which Dermot’s was one, and Laura made a note on her register.

‘OK, Samantha Pitville?’

‘I’m here. And I write chick lit!’ The very pretty young blonde declared this with defiance as if she expected people to boo.

‘There is nothing wrong with being commercial,’ said Laura. ‘If you’re keener on sales than critical acclaim it’s best to know that as soon as possible.’

Samantha smiled, adding to her prettiness by about a hundred watts. ‘Yes, but I’m writing chick lit because I can’t write anything else. And I like it.’

‘Good for you!’ said Dermot.

Laura wondered if he could possibly resist such pulchritude. Her only hope was that Samantha didn’t go for older men.

At last the register was taken and every one had nailed their colours to the mast in one way or another. The older women, Helen and Maggie, who declared they were writing cosy crime and ‘thoughtful books for older women’, did blush a bit as they did so, but Laura felt proud of them.

‘Well that’s all very interesting,’ said Dermot. ‘Now Laura’s going to give you a bit of an introduction.’