Margaret introduces the disparity between outsiders’ fantasy of being raised “in a castle” and her own lived experience. She catalogs extravagant details of her upbringing: a private chef plating toddler meals, a circus at her fifth birthday, snow blown in for Christmas, private groves and a hedge maze, exotic animals, and a helicopter ride to the hospital after a childhood injury. She notes the estate’s isolating ten-foot wall and her father’s exuberant, whimsical love for her mother, exemplified by filling a breakfast room with daisies.

She remembers early childhood as “flickers of yellow gold,” defined by warmth and family closeness: her mother’s playfulness, her father’s efforts to make daisy chains, cousin Ruth braiding her hair, Aunt Francine taking her riding, outings with Great-Aunt Gigi, and quiet moments with Grandmother Rosalind while Grandfather Gerald smoked nearby. Nights involved kissing her parents before glamorous events and secret sleepovers with sister Laura in a playroom tent.

Margaret highlights a particular late-summer Sunday—the “last golden day”—spent in the outdoor pool with her parents and Laura. She practiced diving with her mother, was tossed and caught by her father, and tried with Laura to run across the water’s surface. She frames this as the before picture, a final moment of unclouded happiness.

Afterward, her memories turned “blue,” marked by parental conflict. She recalls escalating fights, both screamed and whispered, and snatches of accusations about motherhood, late nights, and lost identity. The household adjusted: Rosalind introduced a new nanny, which Margaret interpreted as punishment for her own perceived misbehavior. The children’s meals were moved to a smaller table in the playroom, increasing separation from the adults, and parental good nights became isolated, tense visits.

Margaret details the paradox of abundance and neglect: bespoke clothes, resoled shoes, regular hairdresser visits, and rapid responses to physical mishaps contrasted with emotional needs met by platitudes, like receiving a lollipop after mourning a dead swan. Gerald burdened her with legacy-based disappointment, telling her, “Your father was supposed to have a son. Who’s going to look after all of this when I’m gone?”

She describes coping through imagination, naming a gifted pony after her lost swan and convincing herself it might be the swan returned to protect her. Despite a world built to support her, she felt trapped by the estate’s walls and the Ives mythos, unable to name or request the connection she needed. The section closes with her confession of profound loneliness within an outwardly perfect world.