The Woman In White*

Scars, Tears and Training Bras

“You could put that Madeira in one of your cocktails,” Mum says.

“Where is it?” I say, pouring gin, Cointreau and lemon juice into the measuring jug. Am making a White Lady.

“In the door of the fridge,” Mum says.

Opening the fridge, I take out the tall thin bottle, open it, sniff it. Am unsure about whether or not it smells good.

“Well don’t just pour it into that mixture,” Mum says, glancing at my cocktail.

“I’m not going to,” I say. ”Need to research what it goes with. Are there any olives?”

“One tin and I need them,” Mum says. ”No wonder this sandwich is low fat – they haven’t put any butter in it or…”

“I don’t know why you’d buy a low fat sandwich,” I say. ”Obviously it wouldn’t contain butter and you wouldn’t like it.”

Mum places some anchovies in her egg sandwich and smears…

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