Nearly everyone I knew had read the tragic novel, loved it, and discussed it whenever the opportunity arose. The one exception was my gym friend L. Whenever she approached any of us, we swiftly changed the topic of conversation.

L had good reason to disapprove of the book. Her friend Lavinia had committed suicide after reading it, and someone else that L knew was seriously ill as a consequence of taking the tragic plot line too literally.

We learnt all this when tucking into an enormous ‘butcher’s pie’. It was the length and breadth of a farmhouse kitchen table.