“We took turns at who was the big spoon and who was the little one. Laura would complain that I was too thin, too many bones, and that made me a terrible big spoon. But I liked feeling as though I was protecting her. Like I was her scrawny little guard dog, protecting her from the draught coming in from the single-glazed windows. There was no question that she was the superior big spoon: all marshmallow curves and hair that would occasionally float over my shoulder so it looked like I had the kind of princess femininity that came so easily to her.”