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38 pages, Kindle Edition
First published June 27, 2019
I noticed it most clearly when she began to show interest in boys. She didn’t act like the girls you read about in books, with their romantic diaries, worrying about clothes and hairdos and so forth. Instead there was a kind of wolfishness that I’d never seen in her before, something fierce and relentless and without logic, or at least not any logic that I could grasp.
I used to pretend that the painting in the drawing room was our mother’s likeness—it was a portrait of a woman in a white nightgown, with long curling brown hair, and she stood in a foggy garden with her arm held out and her index finger extended. It was called The Beckoning Fair One, and Grandmother said it was painted in the 1800s by an artist named Sophronia Comfort Vale.

