Granny worked so hard at my rearing. She was a frustrated ladysmith and I was her last chance. . . This is the story of my years on her anvil. Whether she succeeded in making a lady out of me is for you to decide, but I will say one thing in my own favour before we begin. No matter which sex I went to bed with, I never smoked on the street.’
When Florence King was born, her Granny, a would-be Virginia grande dame, moved in. ‘Anybody could have a family,’ writes Miss King. ‘She wanted a race all to herself.’ Granny’s dream of raising the perfect Southern belle failed dismally with her own daughter, a chain-smoking, baseball-playing tomboy given to wild expletives. Florence is Granny’s last hope . . .