It's the 1950s and twenty-seven-year-old Jane is forced to come to terms with the unpleasant realities of life for an unmarried, pregnant woman. Turned out of her home, fate leads her to a quirky bunch of souls among whom she learns more about life and herself than she could have imagined possible.
Readers of the totally modern perspective might be shocked by how marginalised women were in Western society a mere coin's throw back in time. Illegitimacy carried a hideous stigma for both mother and child, and Jane's situation isn't helped by her refusal to wear a wedding ring and pretend widowhood, so as to spare either society or herself shame. Her great aunt tells her she'll have to legally adopt her own child when it's born in order to give it her name and make it 'quasi legitimate'. 'The law pretends it's a waif or stray and that you're doing it a favour, and all is forgiven. The child becomes officially your adopted child instead of irregularly your own.' At Jane's disbelief, her aunt adds, 'I know, I know. The law's an a** (word for donkey I don't think I can use here).'
Wish I'd discovered this wonderful book years ago.
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