Melbourne, Australia, 1996
Annabel Logan looked around the stiflingly hot kitchen on a Saturday afternoon in November and nearly cried. The three other women who stood at the kitchen island chopping dried fruit were red-faced, sweating and resentful, and it was all her fault. Annabel was the one who had coaxed and chivvied them into making the Christmas puddings, so she was to blame for the utter disaster this day had turned out to be.
She’d so wanted it to be a bonding exercise among the women of her adoptive family, but everything had conspired against her.Continue Reading