Her family’s Wigan flat would have fit, in its entirety, on the front porch of this house. It was difficult to grasp that she had forsaken her pallet in the front room, the one she shared with her sister, Gwendolyn, and often Charlie too, for a home such as this. Abby thought about what might be expected of her in exchange for her new housing and fought against the acid rising in her throat. She noticed that the far side of the home had a different look, with brighter bricks, as though it had been constructed only recently, added to the existing structure. What absurdity, she thought, that
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How we distrust something so grand as to be intimidating, wanting to be back where we were dragged from.
