‘Book club read. It’s what I come here for each week. And to read the papers.’ She turned the book to show me and I read the title. Dark Matter by Michelle Paver. ‘It’s a ghost story. It’s not really my thing but that’s why you join a book club. Do you read much?’

‘No, not at all.’ I shook my head firmly and then thought maybe that was a bit extreme. ‘I do read a bit. You know. What they make me read at school.’ I tried to look bored.

Maggie’s eyes looked sad. ‘I used to love reading when I was young. I’d spend hours escaping into a book. Rather be reading than studying – that was always my problem. Until I discovered boys then… well… Here’s my bus.’

‘See ya then.’

‘Next week?’ She held my gaze. Usually this made me feel uncomfortable, like seriously uncomfortable, as if I wanted to unzip my own skin and take it off like a onesie, but for some reason this time I was okay.

‘Yeah. See ya next week.’

She got on the bus and I watched it go.

6

MAGGIE

She wasn’t sure if it was her but the week was dragging. She longed for Saturday more than she usually did. Meeting Tom had added a whole new dimension to her trip to the village library. She could strike up a conversation with the others in book group but for some reason when people reached a certain age they seemed fascinated with their ailing health and their misguided belief that others were equally as interested.

She didn’t want to be reminded of her advancing years; she wanted to rewind. Actually that wasn’t it at all. Her youth had not been a happy one, she certainly didn’t want to relive that. But she did like talking to Tom. She was stretching things by describing it as talking. He wasn’t chatty at all but at least any conversation, however brief, wasn’t focused on his bowels or medication, which was a relief.

Her midweek highlight had been one of The Girls getting egg-bound. She’d brought her into the farmhouse, given her a dose of extra vitamins and subjected her to a warm bath, which she seemed to quite enjoy. Maggie had cuddled her gently and massaged her abdomen and after an hour in front of the cooker she had happily laid the offending egg. Such a simple thing and yet if left unattended she would most likely have died. Maggie liked caring for things; it gave her a sense of purpose.

Saturday finally rolled around and Maggie was like a kid about to go on a school trip. Would Tom be there three weeks in a row? What would happen when his mother’s Kindle was fixed? All sorts flashed through her mind on the bus on the way there.