Anna hated hitchhiking with her mother, but there was nothing she could do about it. There was nothing she could do about most things, she found, and sometimes, waiting in the cold by the side of the road, she’d promise herself that when she grew up, she’d do exactly what she wanted. No-one would tell her what to do or wear or think. And she’d have her own car. She wouldn’t rely on a man for anything. She would only rely on herself. She herself, she decided, was the only person she could really trust.