“I’m me. I’m not their daughter. I’m not Nel. I’m me. Me.” Each time she said the word me there was a gathering in her like power, like joy, like fear. Back in bed with her discovery, she stared out the window at the dark leaves of the horse chestnut. “Me,” she murmured. And then, sinking deeper into the quilts, “I want … I want to be … wonderful. Oh, Jesus, make me wonderful.”
Moment Nel finds her identity outside of her mum, but sadly, Nel grows up to be ordinary
