ZACK. Oh no. Settled's settled. It's, well—this for a start. (He takes up the model.) What did mother want to hide it away for?
VIRGINIA. What is it, Zack?
ZACK (holding it towards her). You can see what it is.
VIRGINIA. A wedding cake?
ZACK. Aye, but you wouldn't thank me for a slice of this. It's plaster. How are folks to know we are caterers unless they can see that in the window? It's like keeping a pub and putting your sign away.
VIRGINIA. But I thought you were joiners.
ZACK. We crack to be because joinery was father's trade. But it's mother's trade we mostly live by. She's a masterpiece at cooking, only the business isn't thriving. Wedding spreads are the best part of it. Folk are a bit slow at getting wed, some road.
VIRGINIA. I don't think aunt wanted me to know about this, Zack.
ZACK. She's no cause to hide it, then. Father was a bit like me, not much inclined to work, and I reckon I'm proud of my mother for working for two. But things aren't what they were. Folks won't spend like they used to. They buy furniture instead of feasting so much. And our weddings have a bad name, too. I don't know how it is. I'm sure Paul tries.
VIRGINIA. And do you go to them?