What a weird novel by Elizabeth Berridge! I much preferred her collection of short stories from the 1940s, which only had a tinge of madness, not the full-on display we have in this tale of antique dolls that appear all over the place, and people treated like dolls by the main characters. A woman leaves her husband in Germany, pretends she’s lost her hearing, comes back home to England and stays in the upper floor of her old house, where the son of the housekeeper is now in charge. Her mother has taken control of an old folks’ home, managing it with Stani’s mom, the housekeeper. Death, drugs, teenagers whose legs are painted and then their neck (just like dolls?), a party by 15 year old Lucy that went out of control and a guy took LSD and jumped from the roof. Not enjoyable, but I’ll give Berridge another chance.