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292 pages, Paperback
First published September 1, 1994
I was eighteen years old, fresh from school, and dressed to play the part of housekeeper in a long green apron with a pair of Marigolds in the pocket. We had several rooms to rent – it was a big house and we needed the money. Janet had taken a bright, sunlit room on the first floor with a little balcony to its window. Senior Franklin had a pair of rooms beneath the rafters where he cultivated his genius and scowled upon an ungrateful world from narrow windows secured with rusting iron bars. My parents slept at the back of the house and I slept above the kitchen in a room with a view of the grey backyard. And still the house seemed empty, its heavy walls and the massive floorboards absorbed our voices and muffled our footsteps, making us feel like a party of ghosts.
‘Beware of having the world explained before you’ve fashioned a view of it. It’s important to know your own mind. And Christians are such a happy breed they can never resist interfering and making your life a misery. Naturally, I don’t expect you to heed this advice and, by the same token, I trust you’ll ignore any other advice that people may try to thrust upon you. Know your own mind and follow your bliss. Believe in your secret destiny.’