The table was a big old-fashioned thing that you half expected to see a Victorian cook kneading dough on. Bridget and Tim’s wedding present to them, hauled out of the boot of the car yesterday, had been a bread maker. “A good one,” Bridget said, “not one of the cheap ones.” Louise wondered how long she would have to wait before she could drop it into a charity shop. There were not many things in life that Louise was sure of, but she would bet the house on the fact that she was going to go to her grave without ever having made a loaf of bread.
