My mum’s life was always a mystery when she was alive; it’s an even bigger mystery all these years since her death in 1991.

Those times I did ask leading questions I always believed her answers, how stupid of me. The extent of my findings is way beyond what I thought. Some discoveries have made me feel horror, sick even; others just make me feel complete, like it is starting to make sense.

Her life was a total sham. In a way so was mine, well up to the point I stopped letting others create it.

I have ruffled feathers, people still say “don’t go there”,but I can’t stop now. No matter how terrible the Steptoe secret is, it’s more terrible not knowing it.

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