You have no items in your cart. Want to get some nice things?Go shopping
Cassandra White is not a virtuous widow with her grizzled hair coiled into a bun. She does not wear a series of shapeless outfits in black, and she does not, ever, sit in a rocking chair surveying the scene with her rheumy eyes, saying, ‘Before my dear Harry died . . .’ or ‘In my day . . .’
She does not walk falteringly with a stick and she does not smell faintly of mildew.
She does not say ‘Oh dearie me’ when she stumbles.
In short, Cassandra White is not the delicate old lady I conjured as I read her advert.