I was the dressmaker's daughterour dialogue was fabric, colour,embroidery, pins and scissors.The almost silent soundof snipped cloth fallingon the table round my feet.
A bodice of pins drew downover my head like a scaffold.I spent my childhood in the seaor standing on a table – 'A sway back!'she said proudly.Once I wore a tablecloth as a skirtto school and before that curtainsas a dress.I was a ... (read more)