Joanna Briscoe

One February It's haunted, she thought. They emerged from the lanes on to the upper reaches of the moor, and Cecília understood that the baby girl was still there: there in the sodden cloud shadows, there in the bracken. Once she had thought that her baby lived in her own mind only, projected...

Ihave very pale skin, very red lips. The lips are a fleshy cushion of pink, but I colour them dark scarlet. The skin is naturally pale, that prized magnolia of lovers, the skin of fairy tales and calves, and it is dusted with Shiseido, a white powder. The journalists have always talked about my...