As a child she had been taught it was rude to say no, unless she didn’t mean it. If she was offered another piece of cake and she wanted it she was obliged to refuse out of politeness. And if she didn’t want it she had to say yes, even if it choked her. It was involved but understandable.

I left him and went up on deck to look out at the slithering city, its glitter of street lamps fizzy under the rain. There’s something wrong about a ship in dock, something pathetic, like a bird fluttering in a spill of oil. The Nova was tethered to her berth by ropes and chains, caught in a pool of greasy water. I could feel her shifting under my feet, tugging to be free.

I’ve never been drawn to the feminist movement. I’ve never been put down by a man, unless I deserved it, and have never felt inferior.

Emotions weren’t like washing. There was no call to peg them out for all the world to view.

At night when they prepared for bed Freda removed all her clothes and lay like a great fretful baby, majestically dimpled and curved. Brenda wore her pajamas and her underwear and a tweed coat – that was the difference between them.

Being constantly with children was like wearing a pair of shoes that were expensive and too small. She couldn’t bear to throw them out, but they gave her blisters.

Mrs MacFarley called the valley the Glen. She called the light at early evening the gloaming. She liked to go Roaming in the Gloaming in the Glen.

I’ve never been drawn to the feminist movement. I was brought up to believe that men had little to do with the home or children – except to bring in the money.

Women are programmed to love completely, and men are programmed to spread it around. We are fools to think it’s any different.

I am of the firm belief that everybody could write books and I never understand why they don’t. After all, everybody speaks. Once the grammar has been learnt it is simply talking on paper and in time learning what not to say.