Her head was filled with voices from the past.
The teacher who told her she was bossy. The boy who called her frigid. The men who said “come ‘ere little cutie, we won’t hurt you.” The boss who told her he thought she would have more of a sense of humour.
They would turn up unannounced and unwelcome when she needed an untroubled mind. They clamoured for attention, needy but intangible.
So she began to sing. She joined the choir, and whenever the voices tried to be heard, she drowned them out until eventually they fell silent.
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