Mrs Winterson was such a mix of truth and fraud. She invented many bad mothers for me; fallen women, drug addicts, drinkers, men-chasers. The other mother had a lot to carry but I carried it for her, wanting to defend her and feeling ashamed of her all at the same time. The hardest part was not knowing.

This is the old Manchester working-class way; you think, you read, you ponder. We could be back in the Mechanics’ Institute, back in the Workers’ Extension Lectures, back in the Public Library Reading Room. I feel proud – of them, of me, of our past, our heritage. And I feel very sad. I shouldn’t be the only one to have been educated. Everyone in

and it is ludicrous to be collecting aunts at this stage in life.

All my life I have been an orphan and an only child. Now I come from a big noisy family who go ballroom dancing and live forever.

And I suppose I would have had to look after my brothers. And I would have resented that.

Yes, we are alike. The optimism, the self-reliance. The ease we both have in our bodies. I used to wonder why I have always felt at ease in my body and liked my body. I look at her and it seems to be an inheritance.

Ann says, ‘Was Mrs Winterson a latent lesbian?’ I choke on my tea. That is like Burn a Koran Day. There are some things you can’t even suggest. But now that it has been suggested I am overwhelmed by the awful thought. I am pretty sure she wasn’t a latent anything – it might have been better if some of her tendencies could have been latent. I

Those old sayings about Give It Time, and Time is a Healer depend on just whose time it is. As Mrs Winterson lives in End Time, ordinary time doesn’t mean much to her.

And I do know, really know, that Mrs W gave me what she could too – it was a dark gift but not a useless one.