"Charlie and I had sandwiches made with some of the last loaf yesterday, so I understand why they love it so much." She makes the effort to answer his grin with a faint laugh. It's not very strong or bright, but it's there.

She picks up Newt's cup and takes it over to the sink, dumping out the cold dregs before she gets herself a mug from the cupboard. "Bread was never something I learned to make, back home," she says, pouring tea into both mugs and watching the steam curl up from the surface. "It was always easier to get it from the shops. Not that it was the same for you, I know that."