“I think,” I said after a pause, “that if you and Dad had focused a bit less on why your ways of doing things were right, and focused a bit more on compromising with each other, then my life would have turned out a hell of a lot better.” My mother sighed and seemed to deflate. Suddenly she looked much older and much more tired. “I was young and full of fire. And stupid. I thought I could handle everything.” She studied the smouldering tip of her cigarette. “You think I haven’t had that same thought, many times? There is much time for regret, at my age.” She looked up, met my eyes. “Do you
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