Alice waved back, and as she did, Dominick and Jasper caught her eye. They were sitting just two rows behind Nick and the children, and waving enthusiastically, as if they’d thought Alice had been waving at them.

Oh dear. Now she could see Libby and Ben waving at her, along with Frannie, Xavier, Barb, and Roger.

Alice tried to make her smile and wave seem all encompassing and personal to each of them.

Nora was speaking again.

“I’m stepping in on behalf of Alice Love to be your host today. As many of you know, Alice had an accident at the gym last week and still isn’t feeling a hundred percent. You know, I can still remember the day Alice said to me that she wanted to get one hundred mums together to bake the world’s largest lemon meringue pie. I thought she was nuts!”

The audience chuckled.

“But you all know Alice. She’s like a bull terrier when she gets an idea in her head.” There was appreciative laughter. A bull terrier? How had she changed so much in just ten years? She was more like a Labrador. Anxious to please and overexcited.

“But just a few months later, no surprise, here we are! Let’s put our hands together for Alice!”

There was a burst of enthusiastic applause. Alice nodded and smiled fraudulently.

“We’re dedicating this day to a very dear friend and member of the school community who we tragically lost last year,” said Nora. “We’re using her lemon meringue pie recipe and we’re sure she’s with us in spirit today. I’m referring, of course, to Gina Boyle. We miss you, Gina. A minute’s silence, please, for Gina.”

Alice watched as people reverently bowed their heads and remembered the woman who had apparently been such a significant part of Alice’s life. Her own mind was blank. This morning’s pancakes sat uncomfortably in her stomach. After what seemed much longer than a minute, Nora lifted her head.

“Ladies,” she said. “Pick up your whisks.”

Chapter 31

The women picked up their whisks solemnly as if they were musicians in an orchestra.

“Whisk the eggs, cream, sugar, lemon rind, and juice until combined,” read out Nora.

There was a pause and then everyone put their whisks back down and began to select ingredients.

Alice cracked her eggs one after the other into her bowl. All around her, women were doing the same thing. There were nervous giggles and whispers.

“Don’t get any eggshell in there!” called out someone from the audience, to much hilarity.

After a few minutes, the sound of brisk whisking filled the marquee.

Under Nora’s instructions, once they were all finished, they stood in line to pour their mixture into a huge yellow industrial vat.

This is going to be an absolute disaster, thought Alice.

“Place the flour, almond meal, icing sugar, and butter into a food processor and process until it resembles fine bread crumbs,” read out Nora. “Instead of using a food processor, we’re going to use a concrete mixer. Don’t worry, it’s clean! So could each mum please place her combined ingredients into the mixer.”

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” whispered Alice to Maggie, as the mothers lined up with their bowls of ingredients. “It’s madness.”

Maggie laughed. “It’s all your doing, Alice!”

One of the bemused workmen operated the concrete mixer while the mothers separated yolks from whites.

“Add the egg yolk and process,” ordered Nora.

Once again the woman lined up to add their egg yolks. A few minutes later a massive glob of yellow dough was upended from the concrete mixer and onto the floury surface of the center table.

“Knead until smooth.”

The women gathered around the table, kneading and pulling at the dough. This pastry is going to be inedible, thought Alice, watching inexpert hands pushing and pulling. Cameras flashed.

“Now we really should be putting the pastry into the fridge for half an hour, but today is all about quantity, rather than quality,” said Nora. “So we’re going to go straight to rolling out the pastry.”

The workmen carried over the giant rolling pin.

Alice stood back and watched as three women stood on each side of the rolling pin, took a firm grip of the handles, and began to push forward, as if they were pushing along a broken-down car.

There was giggling and shrieking and yelled suggestions from the audience as the women went off in different directions, but, incredibly, after a few minutes, the dough began to flatten. It was working. It was actually working. A huge sheet of pastry, the size of a king-size bed, was emerging.

“Now, the hard bit,” said Nora. “Line the pie dish.”

We’ll never do it, thought Alice, as the women gathered around the sheet of pastry and lifted it into the air, with their palms flat, as though they were carrying some sort of precious canvas. Every woman had the exact same expression of terrified concentration on her face.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” said the woman with the birthmark, as the pastry began to sag in the middle. Another woman rushed to try and save it. They were treading on each other’s toes, calling out sharp orders like “Be careful there!” and “Watch that part there!”

No one smiled or laughed until the delicate sheet of pastry was safely placed in the massive pie dish. They’d done it. No serious tears or cracks. It was a miracle.

“Hooray!” cried the crowd, and the women shared ecstatic grins as they used their thumbs to push the pastry against the sides of the dish. Next they covered it with sheet after sheet of baking paper and weighted it down with rice, and the workmen lifted the dish and placed it into the oven.