Jokes were not made against Father because they were not funny. He sulked.
I was pleased that we knew so exactly what we were doing and what the other was thinking that we did not need to speak.
Our house was old and large. It was built to look a little like a castle, with thick walls, squat windows and crenellations above the front door. Seen from across the road it looked like the face of someone concentrating, trying to remember.
Note: A house with more than a little personality in Ian McEwan's The Cement Garden
she had the quiet strength and detachment and lived in the separate world of those who are, and secretly know they are, exceptionally beautiful.
Note: This is a key insight into Julie's character.