Read by Lois Tucker
Rowan’s Nan is offended by Rowan's loose tunic: knobbly raw silk, navy blue.
'A trapeze dress?' she snaps, unhindered by the oxygen tube that loops under her nose, 'what's that when it's at home? You don't wear a trapeze. You don't wear a cocoon.’
'It's nice stuff, Nan. It’s Cos. I saved up.'
‘You want to take more pride in yourself, Ro. You've got such a pretty figure, not like your mum. Why’ve you got to go dressing up like the little match girl?'