Evelyn seemed much more aware of the simple pleasures in life, and it was the tiny moments of happiness that Pip enjoyed reading about the most. The diary was full of notes about the things Scarlet had said and done, and Evelyn’s obvious delight in them. They made life seem so straightforward in a way that Pip had forgotten was possible. She wasn’t sure her own life had ever been as simple as that, although it surely must have been once.

Thursday 31st March

Today S and I went puddle-jumping. She wore the darling little wellington boots and I gave her my umbrella to carry, although it was far too big for her and she couldn’t get the hang of holding it upright at all. I suggested that we might want to float it upside down and ride in it like Winnie-the-Pooh did, but S just stared at me as if I was the stupidest person on the planet. She planted her little wellingtoned feet in the puddle, put her hands on her hips and looked up at me, shaking her head.

‘You are silly, Mummy. The umbrella is far too weak to hold us. We’d sink.’

It was all I could do not to laugh at her sweetness. But I didn’t. I kept a straight face and told her that she was very wise and I was indeed very silly. Bless her. I could just eat her up.

It couldn’t have been easy to be a single mother in 1983. Pip hadn’t even been born until 1989, but she instinctively felt that the stigma Evelyn faced, particularly in a small, conservative town, would have been challenging. There was something about the way Evelyn described their days that made it sound like it was her and Scarlet against the world. What was also crystal clear was that Evelyn’s sister Joan didn’t approve of the situation, or of anything about Evelyn’s life. There were rarely any kind words for her in the diary.

Wednesday May 11th

I sometimes wonder what J is thinking. I know she’s supporting S and me for now, and I’m grateful for that, but has she forgotten that this house belongs to all three of us? She’s got no more right to it than Peter and me, and just because I left and she chose to stay doesn’t mean that she suddenly gained any extra entitlement. But she manages to make me feel beholden to her every day. It’s like she sees me as a second-class citizen who she only tolerates in the house because of her own magnanimity and not because we are flesh and blood. S is her niece, for God’s sake, but there’s no affection for her, no kindness for either of us, in fact.

And she holds the purse strings so tightly it’s like she actually wants me to suffer. Yesterday I asked her for some money so that I could buy some sandals for S. She can hardly wear her wellingtons all summer and anyway, she is growing so fast that I doubt they will still fit her by the autumn. But the fuss Joan made. You’d have thought I’d asked her for the Crown Jewels and not a few pounds to buy my child some shoes. She made me feel like I had to beg. My own sister. Sometimes I hate her.