“As she rattles on, about Violet, about Gemma Sterling, about the Bartlett Dirt, I don’t say anything else. I suddenly don’t want Bren or Charlie to talk about Violet, because I want to keep her to myself, like the Christmas I was eight – back when Christmases were still good – and got my first guitar, which I named No Trespassing, as in no one could touch it but me.”
