“Some people try to do that. But it’s a long process, and I’ve always thought that persuasion and education are better ways to eradicate sexism and, come to that, racism, than hitting people over the head with the rule book.”

Cordelia looked sceptical. “Come on now, Lindsay! If the education and persuasion bit were any use, do you think we’d still have topless women parading in daily newspapers? I know enough journos to say that I think you’re all adept at kidding yourselves and producing exactly what the editor wants. You’re all too concerned about getting your byline in the paper to have too many scruples about the real significance of what you are writing. Be honest with yourself, if not with the rest of us.”

Her remarks had the salutory effect of injecting a little reality into Lindsay’s attraction toward her and she scowled and said, “Given how little you know about the work I do and my involvement in the union’s equality program, I think that’s a pretty high-handed statement.” Then, realizing how petulant she sounded, she went on, “Agreed, newspapers are appallingly sexist. Virginia Woolf said ages ago that you only had to pick one up to realize that we live in a patriarchal society. And the situation hasn’t changed much. But I’m not a revolutionary. I’m a pragmatist.”

“Ho, ho, ho,” said Cordelia hollowly. “Another excuse for inaction.”

But Caroline unexpectedly sprang to Lindsay’s defense. “Surely you’re entitled to do things the way you think is best? I mean, everybody gets compromises thrust upon them. Even you. Your books are really strong on feminism. But that television series you did didn’t have many really right-on women. I don’t mean to be rude, but I was . . .”

Whatever she was was cut off by Paddy interjecting sharply, “Caroline, enough! Miss Brown and Miss Gordon didn’t come here to listen to your version of revolutionary Marxism.”

Caroline grinned and said, “Okay, Miss Callaghan, I’ll shut up.”

The conversational gap was quickly filled by the other girls at the table with chatter about the day’s events and the coming concert.

As they finished their pudding, Pamela Overton came over to their table. “Miss Callaghan,” she said, “I wonder if I might ask for your help? Miss Macdonald and the music staff are extremely busy making sure that everything is organized for the girls’ performances in the first half of the concert. I wonder if, since you seem to know Miss Smith-Couper, you could help her take her cello and bits and pieces over to Music 2 so that she can warm up during the first half?”

Paddy swallowed her dismay and forced a smile. “Of course, Miss Overton.”

“Fine. We’ll see you in my flat for coffee, then. Perhaps Miss Gordon and Miss Brown would care to join us?” With that, she was gone.