Quiet by day.
Alive at dusk.
We are mothers, librarians, bank clerks and school governors. In the presence of family we are the picture of modesty. When the front door closes and the last car pulls away, the robe drops.
Our meetings are conducted by post. Members share the small rituals that bring both shame and relief: the slow retrieval of a dropped handkerchief, the careful arrangement of houseplants on a windowsill, the long afternoon spent reading on the sofa with every blind raised.
