Dorrit was surprisingly interested in how the appointment had gone at Workbridge. And encouraging. She blocked Peggy and Greta out of the roster on the day of the ‘What colour is your parachute?’ course and chatted about it every time she saw Peggy or Greta in the shop that morning. Saying how great it was. A new way it would be great, every time she saw them. So, the day sort of flew because it always seemed easier when the people you worked with were in a good mood. At lunchtime some food arrived from the bakery, and Dorrit suggested Greta and Peggy take first lunch and choose what they wanted from the box. It didn’t look like there was anything vegetarian, but then at the bottom of the box, under some filled rolls and pastries, there were a couple of egg sandwiches wrapped up. They took these and a cream doughnut on the side. It was old school – with a dollop of raspberry jam in the middle of the cream. They sat in the car park out the back, and Peggy ripped the doughnut carefully in half. It would have been logical to split it lengthwise, but then one of them would get more cream than the other. It was mock cream, which always tasted better than real cream. They ate the doughnut first. It was messy and delicious. Then they ate the egg sandwiches in silence.

‘Couldn’t we make these?’ Peggy was turning what was left of her sandwich over and looking at it from underneath.

Greta nodded, her mouth full. ‘Surely,’ she said. ‘What is it anyway?’

‘Egg,’ Peggy said. ‘And parsley, maybe.’

‘Mayonnaise?’ Greta said. She was at it now too, opening the slices of bread away from each other.

Peggy wasn’t sure. ‘I reckon we could just start with a boiled egg and mush it up.’ She made a smashing action with her hand and the sandwich.

Eggs weren’t cheap but they weren’t completely out of the question.