The House on Rutland Road
There were five of us in a house built for three, and somehow it never felt crowded, only loud. My sister Susan and I shared the back bedroom and a single chest of drawers, the top two drawers hers by right of being older. We fought over everything and nothing, and then lay awake whispering long after Mum had shouted up the stairs for the last time. I can still hear the trains going down to the coast, and the milk float at six.
from a memoir written with Write My Story


