An engrossing, moving book which delves into darker truths about death, regret, and the very complex relationships which exist between women. The story really made me stop and think about growing old, how the past impacts on the future and the fragility of life. Sometimes it's about what isn't said rather than about what is.
Gull-keenings and babies mewing, over-heated under beach-canopies. Half opening her eyes, Dora found herself casqued in her cap. Heard the murmured chat of Hannah and Eirlys. Thought of the stretching-out of the decades since Spain, so that you could never be certain of the integrity of your memory. I was only nineteen, she thought. How much of it had she invented? Not the byre, not the sofa, not Rosa. And she had taken from Lachlan a leaven of his good qualities. He had taught her a measure of tolerance, that was beyond dispute. He'd pointed out that, in her rancour against Calvinism, she sounded quite Calvinist.