Absolutely. At the bottom of the trunk I found two of my mother's dresses. She could still remember herself at age five, staring knives and daggers at the men who came into the small yarn shop, under pretense of business but really just to leer. He was in evening dress: swallow-tailed coat and white tie. She had done forever with the Age of Chivalry, and her own base adaptations of its traditions to the compromising life. At last, after a long rumbling journey in a stuffy windowless van, she reached Canongate Prison—for Holloway had its quota already. “I have the right to be here. And now Ann Veronica’s evenings were also becoming very busy.
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