Now it was her turn to have a think. ‘I’m a big lemon drizzle fan…’

‘Awww.’ Tom looked like he was going to dribble. ‘My mum…’ He glanced about before continuing. ‘She used to make that. It was amazing.’

‘Although Victoria sandwich is a classic that’s hard to beat. But I’m a sucker for a scone with jam and cream. But it has to be clotted cream mind.’

He shook his head. ‘Don’t think I’ve ever had a scone.’

‘Well, knock me down with a feather. You poor lamb. You’ve not lived until you’ve had a scone.’ Tom started packing his books into a torn bag. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m coming with you. I can’t concentrate on this now. All I can think about is cake.’

*

The church hall was cavernous. At one end there was an open gap through to the kitchen, in front of which were three tables, one of them was occupied by a couple of the other book club regulars. Betty beckoned them over.

Maggie gave them a brief greeting. There was little else to say when you’d just spent two hours together. Tom followed her to the counter where three eager-looking women hovered in matching aprons.

‘What can I get you,’ trilled one of them. ‘Tea or coffee and a slice of cake for two pounds. It all goes to charity.’

‘After we’ve taken out the money for the tea, coffee and milk,’ muttered the lady to her left. She reminded Maggie of the person delivering the terms and conditions on the radio.

‘What cakes have you got?’ Maggie asked. She could sense Tom peering over her shoulder.

‘Chocolate, coffee and walnut, carrot cake, which I made fresh last night, or blueberry muffins.’ It was a sorry offering to Maggie’s mind.

‘A tea and a piece of carrot cake for me then,’ said Maggie, getting out her purse. ‘Tom?’

He was studying the cakes intensely. ‘Chocolate cake please.’

‘And what would you like to drink? We have squash,’ said the woman behind the counter.

Maggie felt a little insulted on Tom’s behalf.

‘No thanks. Just the cake please.’

‘I don’t know that we can do cake without a drink.’ A lot of muttering between the three women ensued.

‘It’s fine,’ said Maggie, handing over four pounds. ‘It’s all for charity.’

‘That’s lovely, thank you,’ said the woman looking mightily relieved as she passed over a tray. Tom put his bag on a chair and came back for the tray. It was a nice gesture. Maggie could have managed but she wasn’t going to go on a feminist rant about equality because he’d been thoughtful. They sat at the third table away from Betty and the others.