The women took their seats, Maeve digging out handfuls of crisps from the bowl in the middle of the table with her big, rough hands. They each pulled out their copies of Nicholas Nickleby, except Maeve, who once again tapped her head; Sally’s copy was particularly dog-eared.
“That school,” Gemma began. “Dotheboys Hall. Made me cry, it was so awful!”
“Everything makes you cry,” said Maeve. “You cry at adverts for cat food.”
“Don’t tell me you weren’t touched by the plight of those poor children, Maeve,” Gemma admonished. “Even you aren’t that hard.”
“Of course I was,” said Maeve.
“It wasn’t entirely fictional,” added Sally. “It was a crappy time to be alive if you were without social standing or money.”
“When Nicholas whooped Wackford Squeers’s arse, I almost yelled for joy,” said Annie.
“Poor Smike,” Gemma lamented. “What a sad little life. He barely had a glimpse of happiness. All that fear and pain.”
“I think Smike was Dickens’s comment on society. Yes, he wound the story up in a neat bow for the most part. But in reality, many people lived hard, short lives. Smike epitomized their plight,” said Sally.
“I agree,” said Annie. “Dickens was giving a voice to the people who had none. It wasn’t the poor reading his work; most of them wouldn’t have been able to read, let alone afford the stories. He was trying to reach the socially buoyant.”
“What did you think of the female portrayals?” asked Sally.
“Usual driveling bints,” said Maeve. “They’re either too sensitive or too stupid.”
“I give you Kate and her mother,” said Annie, topping up Gemma’s and her own wineglass.
“The virtuous fainting virgin and the prattling self-absorbed windbag,” Sally offered.
“What did you think of Nicholas?” asked Gemma, a little dreamily.
“I think he was too pious to be good in the sack,” said Annie.
“I disagree!” trilled Gemma. “I think Nicholas showed great passion. Especially for Madeline Bray.”
“But he’d have kept his socks tucked into his pajamas on his wedding night,” said Sally.
“Maybe he was a little too virtuous?” said Annie.
“Here we go again,” said Sally. “The eternal good-guy-versus-bad-boy debate.”
“Not at all,” said Annie. “I suppose I’d just be attracted to someone more spirited, someone like John Browdie.”
“He was an oaf!” exclaimed Gemma.
“And a chauvinist,” said Maeve.
“I’m not saying he’s my ideal man,” said Annie. “But if I had to choose a man from this particular book, I would choose Browdie over Nickleby.”
“I can see that,” said Sally. “He was a good-natured realist.”
“Exactly,” said Annie. “Plus, I think he’s kind of beefy, where Nicholas I imagine to be a bit scrawny.”
Maeve chose this moment to clear her throat loudly.
“Speaking of beefy,” she said, and Gemma began to giggle uncontrollably and leaned across to top up Annie’s glass. Maeve rustled around in a bag she’d brought in with her and pulled out a box. She placed it in the middle of the table. The clear plastic window of the box revealed a large dildo in shades of pastel peach. Annie and Sally stared. Gemma continued to giggle.
“Open it!” chivvied Gemma.
“Me?” Annie asked.
“Yes, you,” said Maeve. “It’s a gift. For hosting the book club. We wanted to get you something practical.”
Sally was grinning and showing all her teeth.
“Were you in on this?” asked Annie.
Sally shrugged.
“Maybe,” she said. “But Maeve made the choice since she’s the expert in these things.”
Since Annie hadn’t made a move to open the box, Maeve did it for her, pulling the rubber phallus from its casing and waving it about.
“Here,” she said, pointing to a suction pad on its base. “It’s got one of these.” She licked the suction pad and smacked the dildo down hard so that it stuck to the center of the table. “There,” she said. “You’re welcome!”
“Thank you?” said Annie. “Why does it need a suction cup?”
“So you can mount it,” said Maeve as though Annie were stupid. “You know. Go on top. Ride it!”
Annie held her hands up to stop any further explanation.