Judy had a faraway look on her face. “Now that is from my 1980s husband. Rich as Croesus, fabulous in bed, otherwise a complete shit.” “Well”—Mum gave a laconic shrug—“that was the eighties for you.” “Yes, I don’t know how I’d have got through it if it hadn’t been for the cocaine.” I looked at the dress. It was definitely…of its era. From a time when if you wanted to show your friends how much better and happier than them you were, you had to blow a ton of money on something vulgar and expensive, instead of just Instagramming yourself in front of something you didn’t really own like we did in
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