“Margery has written to me. I don’t think I should let you read what she says.” You flinch. You do not like me keeping secrets.

“Is she unwell?” You sound concerned but I am suspicious it is another of your ruses. I determine to stand firm.

“She is perfectly well. She simply wishes to tell me a decision she has come to about painting.” I know as soon as I say this that it is a mistake. It is a reminder of another domain we do not share.

“You are being unfair. I show you all my letters.”

“Perhaps it’s time we stopped. Perhaps it’s time we had interests and friendships outside the family.”

You stare at me. A new thought forms in your eyes.

“But Margery? She’s hardly your equal, Ness. She’s one of those women who blunders through life, straining to keep pace with those she’d like to copy. She’s a drain on you.”

I can think of no answer to your jealousy and turn away.

“Don’t go!” I hear the panic in your voice but I dare not give in. If I let you read the letter you will ridicule and demolish it until there is nothing left to threaten you. I push the envelope into my sleeve and head upstairs.

“It’s the fact that she must stand.” Aunt Minna puts her cup down on the table. Her starched collar crackles as she reaches for the pot. “Another for you, Leslie?”

Father’s only response is a grunt. For the past half-hour he has sat staring into the empty space ahead of him, his silence broken only by the occasional groan. Aunt Minna has not yet abandoned her aim of trying to cheer him and interprets his grunt as a yes.

“Pass me your father’s cup, will you, Virginia? There’s a dear.”

You glare at Aunt Minna and I see that you have taken her silly observation to heart. Aunt Minna prattles on.

“Writing seems to me a much better activity for a woman. The body is supported, and as long as one makes sure to sit up straight there is no pressure on the back. I can’t think it can be good for Vanessa to have to stand all day before an easel. Have you thought, dear, of the impact on your posture?”

I ignore Aunt Minna. I know what she says is kindly meant. I watch you pick up Father’s cup and pass it to her. There is no mistaking the look of fury on your face.

Only later do I realize the extent of your anger. For your birthday you ask Father for a lectern so that you can write standing up. You will not allow that mine is the more difficult art.