”It all boils down to the simple fact that all I really want is an uncomplicated life. In a Jane

Austen novel I would have been the granite-faced housekeeper. Not the one from

Mandalay, too much passion, but the solid, uncomplaining and dark skirted figure whose

presence is unnoticed for the most part. I would move silently through a dark house,

gently guiding the other servants to the greater good and attending some austere House of

God on the Sabbath. I would watch grim, slate coloured clouds gathering over the house

and grounds and cross myself with relish. I would be respected but avoided with the taint o

f the novice about me. And I would harbour a secret, complicated lust for the gentleman

farmer who lived on a neighbouring estate.


 (Blood On The Banana Leaf)