Chapter 1

It was a cold February day when the nanny wheeled her small charge along the Brighton promenade. The little girl’s mother was pregnant with her third child and for once would be resting on her bed rather than sitting up at her desk typing one of her romantic novels.

The wind was fresh but despite the cold, the nurse stopped to listen to the bearded man standing on a box surrounded by a crowd of angry men. The orator was in full voice as he urged his audience to take note of the fact that they were being exploited by their government; that he – and he alone - was not a slave.
“Raise your hands if there is one among you poor downtrodden workers who can call himself free?” he shouted.
There was a murmur of agreement amongst the men whose mood was becoming dangerous. Suddenly a small voice piped up:
“I’m free!”
I had just had my third birthday and was proud of my advanced age.

The mood of the men changed instantly and laughter now rippled through the crowd as my nanny turned the pram round and hurried me home.
Obviously I don’t remember the incident but it was recalled in the family whenever the word ‘free’ came up in conversation.

On August 12th of that year, l924, my younger sister, Anne was born, my parents’ third child and – to my mother’s everlasting distress - the baby was yet another girl. Her first born, Eve, although not the son she had wanted, was nevertheless a remarkably pretty baby, blue-eyed, golden haired, like a little doll. I, on the other hand was not only the second girl but was scarlet-faced, bald and heavy enough to have caused my poor mother considerable discomfort when she brought me into the world on 1st February, her birthday, too.By the time Anne came along, my mother vowed to give up her hopes for a boy and devote herself to her career.

At that time, only six years after the end of the First World War, the country was in a severe economic depression.