Mary Ann Britland knew what she wanted, and how she was going to get it. She worked all day in a factory and moonlighted as a barmaid because she wanted to provide for her two daughters. She married Thomas Britland, a domestic servant, because she wanted a man who knew his way around a dish or two. And at the age of 39 she wanted her next door neighbour, Thomas Dixon. Unfortunately, she already had a husband and Thomas already had a wife.

Sometimes there are days where you feel like nothing is going right. The roast gets burnt, a sudden downpour soaks the washing just as it was ready to be brought in off the line, it can be any little thing. And it can be that one little thing that makes a woman snap and throw the peg basket, just out of sheer frustration.

Marie loved shopping. She had been brought up by parents who both worked long hours and they saw new clothes, toys and other niceties as a suitable replacement for hugs and boundaries. She grew up believing that shopping solved everything.

Christa loved a good funeral. They brought family and friends together, the food was always delicious and plentiful, and best of all, black was such a slimming color. It was a nice feeling, too, when the guest of honour at such an event wasn’t someone Christa had particularly cared much for.

Bernadette Protti’s home life was just fine, by all accounts. She was born into a devout catholic family, the youngest of six children. Her father Raymond was a retired public works officer, who taught Christianity in his spare time. Mother Elaine was a homemaker, who read her bible with a stop watch. But just fine wasn’t good enough for Bernadette.