But between my sister and myself things happened naturally. We would disagree, she would cry, I would become cross, and we would hurl the supreme insult at one another: ‘You fool!’ and then we’d make it up. Her tears were real, and if she laughed at one of my jokes, I knew she wasn’t trying to humour me. She alone endowed me with authority; adults sometimes gave in to me: she obeyed me.
