Miss Feathers turned her nose up at the poached salmon. She could be such a priss sometimes, Margaret thought. Since the ‘incident’ in the lounge she and Miss Feathers had spent the whole afternoon together, watching depressing movies, eating copious amounts of junk food, staying in bed and going over, in her mind, the events that had landed her here. All things considered, it had not been a bad life. Margaret had no illusions that she could turn a miraculous 180 degrees like Jimmy Stewart in ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ and suddenly the clouds would part and she would be free of the oppressing burden that seemed to find her everywhere she went. But part of this process involved honesty.

And the bare bones truth of the matter was that she hadn’t been born with enough fing...

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