Max had a gorgeous round, pale face surrounded by light brown curls, and he would say things like, May I have a biccy, Mummy?

And in her soul, she was lonely, because even Vanessa, to whose strength she clung, and on whose courage she leaned, knew nothing of what Jack Ashton's vices and follies, his disgraceful infidelities, and yet more disgraceful amorousnesses had taught her, nothing of where her knowledge had brought her.

Foamy-chopped dogs frisk the pavements for barf-free kebab or hot dropped fry, mobiles trilling de-daw-de-dee theme tunes, their birdsong jukeboxing the cigarette air as rain falls from a plum sky ...

She suffers from a fear known as lachanophobia, which leaves her sweating and stricken with panic attacks at the merest sight of a sprout or a pea.