Miranda shuffles towards the centre of the room and takes a while to place her feet in a comfortable position, before adjusting the microphone in line with her mouth:

‘Hi everybody. Yes, I’m Miranda. Bit nervous about kicking things off … This is my first time doing anything like this, so bear with me … I’m only going to speak for a few minutes about my story. I feel enormously privileged to be able to actively choose my life’s path, to be alive right now, in this year, in this version of the world. My mother wasn’t really taught about contraception, and her family was crazily religious, so me and my brothers weren’t planned. She never had a choice, she never once sat down and thought, “What do I want?” So, my twin brother and I, we weren’t necessarily “wanted”. I don’t think my parents were ready for kids. They would go off and leave us to fend for ourselves quite a lot, when we weren’t really old enough to look after ourselves. I suppose what I’m saying is, I am not my mother. I don’t have to be in a situation I don’t want to be in. So, I’m going to feel empowered by my choice. I don’t want children, and I feel lucky that I know how to manage and maintain that decision. Thank you for listening to the shortened version of my story.’ Miranda bows, and leaves the stage.

Everyone claps loudly. That was strangely confessional, so personal – which, I suppose, is the point. I don’t know what to think.

‘Thank you, Miranda! Up next, Marie!’ Iris bellows from the mic.

Another woman, wearing a dark red silk top, walks onto the makeshift stage and does a big nervous cough into the mic. There is a piercing screech of feedback.

‘Hi, I’m Marie McDonald. A children’s nurse working in London. I am pretty sure I don’t want kids. I don’t get any maternal urges, but I feel like I should because I work with children and I love my job. I care for ill children every single day and I get extremely close to them. But I don’t want to have a child of my own. I hate the fact that people assume I’m “less of a woman” or “less of a human” because I cannot commit to motherhood itself. Even though my job is so giving, I feel like I’m seen as selfish by the outside world. This is what my friends hint at, anyway. I feel like whatever I do, however much I give, I’m still not enough to some people. Thanks for listening.’

The audience claps and lots of people hug her as she comes off stage.

Bea nudges me and whispers: ‘Where’s she getting that from, do you think, that people would think she’s selfish?’

My stomach tightens because I understand what Marie is saying. The small reminders every day that people think you’re different, living outside the lines.

Before I can properly answer, Iris’s voice is booming through the mic and the next woman is ushered onto the stage. She has short red hair, hoop earrings and is beaming into the crowd.