Chapter 1 Let me introduce myself; I shall call myself Jane; Jane for being full of anonymity and ironically dull. I am 18 years and 10 months old and I was born in London. This is where my story begins. At 8.49am in South London, an 18 year old girl gave birth to her daughter; it was a Friday and her name was Gina. This, as you can probably guess, was my mother. Now I will not deny that she loved me and still loves me as I write this now, but I cannot deny that at that times I have struggled to believe this fact. As an 18 year old myself I can understand how difficult it must have been bringing up a child alone. I cannot however, excuse what happened. After approximately 2 weeks, Gina gave me to her parents, my grandparents, Susan and Joe. I'll stop you before your mind wanders, this is not a tale of child abuse. I was not kept in a cellar or abused by my uncle. I had a wonderful childhood, blissfully unaware of the world and full of the wondrous childish naïveté, something I do wish I could have clung on to. We lived in London for a total of 3 years, enough that I insist I am a Londoner at heart, but not nearly enough that anyone believes that this grammar schooled Kent-dwelling young lady could ever have London roots. But I don't need to tell you that one should never judge a book by its cover, or indeed a girl by her smile.