He thought it would be a good idea to have a family meeting when she returned to the UK; to get everyone together and talk through what she had discovered. Jenna disagreed. That wasn’t going to happen, not with her family. They swept emotions so far under the carpet they became embedded in the foundations of the house. There was absolutely no way she was going to sit down with her explosive mother, her abrasive sister and her shadow of a father and have a frank conversation. It could never happen.

Tom didn’t push the suggestion. Some families, he said, were too embedded in their roles and beliefs to ever change, and it wasn’t Jenna’s responsibility to try and fix that.

The relief she felt, hearing that, was so overwhelming she started to cry again.

For years, she’d felt like it was her fault that her family was so dysfunctional. With Fran away at school, and then at university, she’d sat crossed legged on the carpet listening as Geraldine listed Fran’s faults and all the ways she’d disappointed her. Jenna resolved that she would be different. She’d wouldn’t be anything like Fran; she’d be the daughter her mother had always dreamed of. And for a long time she was. She was Geraldine’s shadow, her mini-me, in thought, word and deed. She followed the rules – don’t raise your voice, don’t voice opinions and never disagree with Daddy. Men didn’t like women who thought they were clever, Geraldine told her. That’s why Fran didn’t have a husband; with her brutish ways, inelegant attire and harsh voice she was the exact opposite of what men found attractive. Jenna absorbed her mother’s advice, believing every word. Didn’t Daddy adore Mum? Didn’t his eyes light up when she walked into a room? Didn’t he pull her into his arms and call her ‘my little Twiggy’? Geraldine was Jenna’s role model, in every single way.

When Jenna reached thirteen, she told some of her friends about the rules her mother had instilled in her and they laughed in her face. That was crap, they said, Geraldine was stuck in the dark ages. Women didn’t have to be quiet and keep their opinions to themselves, they had to shout them from the rooftops. Women’s voices had to be heard. Her friends were feminists and proud. That afternoon, when Jenna returned home, she told her mum that she’d decided to become a feminist.

Geraldine slapped her round the face.