My mum forced me to wear this outfit, literally.

Left for me alone, I would not be wearing a tweed blazer that made me feel like I was interviewing for a job I didn’t want.

Under it was a cream silk blouse tucked neatly into a pleated black skirt that hit just above my knees.

Modest, polished, too… presentable. My hair had been curled into soft waves and pinned slightly on one side, which she said gave my face “more warmth.” I felt like I was in disguise– Evie Hayes, polite daughter, not the girl who spent most of last night spiraling over the weight of too many secrets and...