“She could not remember the casual Sarah who needed her morning latte before she did anything else. She had willingly given that Sarah up, it was true, but when she was back in the city she yearned for the ease with which she used to walk in and out of coffee shops and giant shopping centres.”

“Suddenly Saffron had a picture in her mind of Sarah waiting at the bottom of the wall, and she was angry with herself.Something changed in Saffron at that moment. She knew all about feeling left out.... That was why she wanted her angel so badly; proof that she mattered as much as anyone else."I couldn't really climb the wall," she said. "And if I could, what if I got caught? What would I say?""You'd think of something.""No. It was a stupid idea. Let's try your way, early in the morning.""Before breakfast?""Yes. All right Mission Control?""All right," said Sarah. "All right, Superhero.”

“When I met her, I saw her as someone else who needed saving but she had saved me. She had given me hope when I had given up on everything in my life.”

“She remembers her name. She remembers the name of the president. She remembers the name of the president’s dog. She remembers what city she lives in. And on which street. And in which house. The one with the big olive tree where the road takes a turn. She remembers what year it is. She remembers the season. She remembers the day on which you were born. She remembers the daughter who was born before you – She had your father’s nose, that was the first thing I noticed about her – but she does not remember that daughter’s name. She remembers the name of the man she did not marry – Frank – and she keeps his letters in a drawer by her bed. She remembers that you once had a husband, but she refuses to remember your ex-husband’s name. That man, she calls him.She does not remember how she got the bruises on her arms or going for a walk with you earlier this morning. She does not remember bending over, during that walk, and plucking a flower from a neighbour’s front yard and slipping it into her hair. Maybe your father will kiss me now. She does not remember what she ate for dinner last night, or when she last took her medicine. She does not remember to drink enough water. She does not remember to comb her hair.She remembers the rows of dried persimmons that once hung from the eaves of her mother’s house in Berkeley. They were the most beautiful shade of orange. She remembers that your father loves peaches. She remembers that every Sunday morning, at ten, he takes her for a drive down to the sea in the brown car. She remembers that every evening, right before the eight o’clock news, he sets two fortune cookies on a paper plate and announces to her that they are having a party. She remembers that on Mondays he comes home from the college at four, and if he is even five minutes late she goes out to the gate and begins to wait for him. She remembers which bedroom is hers and which is his. She remembers that the bedroom that is now hers was once yours. She remembers that it wasn’t always like this...”

“Finally, the lock clicked and she tugged the secret door open. A rotten stench hit her like a fist. She drew away. The boy at her side recoiled, afraid. Sarah fell to her knees. Sarah could not speak, she could only quiver, her fingers covering her eyes, her nose, blocking out the smell.....She sank to her knees again and she screamed at the top of her lungs, she screamed, for her mother, for her father, screamed for Michel.”

“I asked the girl at the coffee shop out on a date. Unfortunately she said no, probably because I asked her out to coffee.”