‘Yes, it could be Paddy Cow’s brother or sister,’ I said. ‘And every chicken also has a brother or sister, as does every sheep, and every fish, and every pig.’

‘I won’t eat it anymore,’ he said. ‘I won’t eat any animals. I want to care for animals, not eat them.’ And so he didn’t. I gave the steak to the dog next door, and heated Owen up a can of baked beans. Later, he stuck his head in the door to check whether there was ‘animal’ in salami (an Italian sausage), and though a little crestfallen by my affirmative response, he nodded valiantly and went back to his bedroom.

Italian cuisine, I have reminded Jo, is a cuisine dominated by vegetables. But Jo is disgusted. And I know he holds me responsible. He feels I have somehow feminised Owen. I did not know that the eating of meat was somehow masculine and the eating of vegetables, feminine. But it has put another rift between us. Yes, Owen’s vegetarianism is another thing that makes Jo angry with me. But as Jo will not sit down long enough to discuss it, what am I to do? If I ask him to put aside a little time to talk about anything I am severely reprimanded for my selfishness: because don’t I know he is feeding the poor and the homeless? Well, sometimes I want to shout all the poor and homeless fish and chips just so’s I get a day occasionally with my husband.

Perhaps there’s no point anyway: Jo and I, should we get stuck together for a whole uninterrupted two hours, might have nothing to say to each other. I feel like rapping with my knuckles on his head, ‘Jo, Jo, Hello, are you in there?’

So there you have it.

And re your last query: No. I’m crestfallen—but not surprised. Of course I will go and visit Hannah. I will take her a cake and a stack of magazines. I understand her desire to be a young thing, free in the world, without a silly old aunt getting in her way.

Send recipes for hearty vegetable stews and soups with beans in them.

Love Veda xxx

† † †

28 JUNE 1969

Dear Tilde,

I have started something new. It crept up on me, a brooding idea at first, but getting clearer in the light of day.

Presumptuous of me before my first book even comes out … but I’m feeling a certain concreteness about my powers. Ambitious, even. Of course, I’m completely aware that ambition is a perilous path. Ambition is my downfall. Jo always says: ‘Don’t aim so high and then you wouldn’t fall so low. You either think you’re a genius or a complete failure. Think yourself into the middle of the road.’

Well, bugger the bloody middle of the road: that’s where the animals get hit, is it not?