‘Maybe.’ Greta ate the sandwich now. She was hungry. It was food. Then she opened her eyes and looked at Peggy. Peggy was looking the other way. ‘Fuck.’ Greta put her sandwich in her mouth and dug deep into their bag. She pulled out a chocolate-covered stick of liquorice. It was slim like their fingers and covered in dark chocolate. She held it out to Peggy, who was still looking away.

‘I just want . . .’ Peggy started, then she turned round and saw the chocolate liquorice. Her mouth dropped. ‘Where did we get that?’

‘We’ve had it for weeks,’ Greta said. She put it in both her hands and started to bend it so it would break in two. ‘I found it in the bottom of the bag when we were cleaning.’

‘How did we not eat it?’

Greta shrugged in amazement. It seemed so unlikely.

‘Wait.’ Peggy was looking at the half that Greta had handed her. ‘Wait. Have you been hiding this from me?’

‘What?’ Greta said. It wasn’t a ‘What are you thinking?’ what, it was an ‘I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about’ what. It was impossible – wasn’t it?

‘When did you find it?’ Peggy asked.

‘This morning,’ Greta said. She was eating hers now. ‘When I went out the back to do my lipstick.’

‘Did you smell it?’ Peggy asked.

‘What? No. Maybe. Just eat the fucking thing.’

They both took a bite. It was old, Greta was right about that, but it was still good. There was so much sugar in alcohol. Some of the people in the meetings carried sweets in their handbags and briefcases. Greta and Peggy had thought about it for a moment, but buying bread had seemed more important and they didn’t have money for everything. Right now, though, the people with the sweets in their handbags and briefcases made a lot of sense.

‘Did Diane give us this?’ Peggy asked. Her mouth was as full as it could be with the half of the small twist of chocolate-covered liquorice.

Greta shrugged. ‘I suppose so.’