She held up a well-thumbed copy of a book. ‘This is the groundbreaking nineteen forty-nine work by Simone de Beauvoir, The Second Sex. It sold more than twenty thousand copies in its first week. It’s written in French, but the English version will soon be in all the bookshops and I urge you all to read it.’

Her direct, almost confrontational, style had grabbed everyone’s attention. It was also the first time a speaker had used the word ‘sex’ in a WI meeting since Isaac Crumble explained the mating ritual of tortoises back in 1947. That had been a slow evening in more ways than one.

‘Simone de Beauvoir’s book describes the treatment and position of women through history to the present day. We have been second-class citizens for long enough and it’s time to do something about it.’

There were murmurs of ‘Here, here!’ and it was immediately clear the audience was captivated by this dynamic woman.

‘In the interest of the propagation of the species, we are biologically different to males.’

‘What’s she mean?’ whispered Sylvia Icklethwaite to Gertie Robinson.

‘Men ’ave bits an’ we don’t,’ said Gertie, who always told it how it was.

‘For example,’ said Clarice, extending her slim arms in a pose like a ballerina, ‘females have a more difficult time building up muscle mass.’

Gertie Robinson looked down at her massive biceps. Well, some of us don’t, she thought.

For the next thirty minutes Clarice held the audience spellbound with her detailed analysis of women’s oppression. She described a work of anthropology and sociology, a modern feminist upsurge. It was so captivating that Joyce Davenport almost forgot to switch on their recently purchased Baby Burco boiler, another wonder of the modern age.

Clarice had reached the grand finale. ‘Let me be honest, when I first read this book I thought that it rambled on a bit, but the message is powerful.’ She paused for dramatic effect. ‘Remember this, ladies – one is not born, but rather becomes a woman.’

The applause was tumultuous.

The talk afterwards over a superb cream tea was of the countless hours of housework every week. Gertie Robinson was telling Clarice that all her washing was done in the sink with the occasional drop of Lux liquid to clean the dirty pans.

‘Problem isn’t so much us,’ said Gertie. ‘It’s men.’

How true, thought Clarice.

Tom was waiting to collect Lily after the meeting. She had arranged to leave her bicycle at school. After climbing into his car they set off for Kirkby Steepleton.

‘How did it go?’ he asked.

Lily was cautious with her reply. ‘Fine, simply discussing the role of women.’

Tom was astute enough to read behind the neutral statement. They drove on, each with their own thoughts, until Tom suddenly opened up. ‘I think society is changing. Women showed during the war what they can do. They drove ambulances and kept the factories running.’