Why was she so hateful? Why couldn’t she behave like other people wanted her to? Harriet sat on the sofa, berating herself; and the sharp unpleasant thoughts tumbled through her mind long after she’d picked herself up and trudged up to bed. Her anxiety and guilt were not confined to her mother-or even her immediate situation-but ranged far and wide, and the most torturous of it revolved around Ida. What if Ida had a stroke? Or was struck by a car?