A Woman Wronged

In 1949, my mother, having nursed her husband through tertiary syphilis, divorced him. In the same year, Aunt Em’s husband died of TB. It seemed only natural that they should seek consolation for their loss in each other’s company. My mother, my brother and I moved into the little terraced house in West Street, Northampton, in 1950. It was a cramped and confined space. My mother soon came into conflict with her sister.