Sephy I stood in the doorway, watching Mother sip at her glass of white wine. I realized with a start that I had to think back a long way to remember seeing her without a glass of Chardonnay in her hand. ‘Mother, can I have a party for my fourteenth birthday?’ Mother looked up from her magazine. That’s all she ever did, read and drink, spend time in the gym or the pool and drink, shop and drink. And the only things she ever read were those glossy magazines with impossibly beautiful women on the cover and inside. Women with polished mahogany skin who looked like they’d never had a pimple in their lives – nor a decent meal either come to that. Women with teeth which shone like fresh snow in sunshine. Something else struck me. I’d never seen a nought in any of my mother’s magazines. Not one. No white or pink faces anywhere. In fact, there’d actually been something on the news at the beginning of the year when the first nought model was featured in one of the high fashion magazines.
