Novel in Progress/An Excerpt (3)

She'd spent all those years behaving as if there were a line between the unhinged and the sane, the barmy and the everyday, the irrational and the compos mentis. There wasn't. There wasn't anyone who could rightly say if the life that Sophie had fashioned for herself was raving or judicious, if it wouldn't soon crumble. There wasn't any actual distance from the past, no shelter from secrets.