It's not that Martha Bone doesn't like children. It's more that they don't fit into her world: her shop, with its succession of beautiful distressed antiques; her flat, with its creamy sofa, its unwashable linen scatter-cushions, its aura of oatmeal and sand. Her sisters don't understand how she can live her life as she does, shut away like that, so emotionally enclosed, but Martha smoothes the... (read more)