I came across this story in an anthology of women’s short fiction, edited by Susan Hill. Amongst the stories by familiar and famous names (such as Fay Weldon, AS Byatt and Margaret Drabble) was this understated marvel by Georgina Hammick, and I wondered why on earth I’d never heard of her before. She published two collections of stories (in 1987 and 1992), which are all wise, observant and devastating, and sometimes, as in ‘The Tulip Plate, make you feel as if you’ve just been told a strange secret.

In ‘The Tulip Plate’, Margaret has come to visit Nell, an old school friend she hasn’t seen in years. It’s soon clear that the two women have little in common anymore, and a weekend of awkward conversation looms ahead. Georgina Hammick excels in picking out the irony in moments where people’s perceptions are entirely at odds (Margaret is quietly appalled by Nell’s dour home and unappetising food but forces herself to eat the grim cottage pie provided for dinner, while Nell is quietly appalled by Margaret’s gluttony and had hoped they might save some of the pie for a second meal). And then, while they are walking Nell’s dog by a muddy lake, the story comes suddenly to its ineffable conclusion. The transcendent climax has the feel of a Flannery O’Connor story (and I’m sure she’d have approved of it, since it’s also “totally right” and “totally unexpected”).

First published in People for Lunch, Methuen, 1987, and included in The Penguin Book of Modern Women’s Short Stories, Penguin, 1991