by Annie Murray
‘Hello, bab,’ Cynthia greeted her, huddled up in a thick grey cardie. ‘Kettle’s on. You look famished.’
‘I am.’ She headed straight for the range to warm up. ‘My feet’re like blocks of ice. There’s a darned great hole in this one – look.’ She took off her left shoe and held it up. The piece of card she had slipped in to cover the hole was sodden. ‘Umm, something smells nice. You doing a stew?’
‘After a fashion,’ Cynthia said. She had never had a very high opinion of her own cooking.
Violet was sitting at the table with Robbie, doing something with him, their heads bowed over a piece of paper. She had at last got round to getting some specs, and was peering through their pink plastic frames now. The first time she put them on, she’d said it was like a miracle – she’d had no idea that there was so much to see! She looked up and smiled. ‘Say hello to your mom,’ she said, nudging Robbie.
‘’Llo, Mom.’ He didn’t even look up. Violet made a wry face, and Em tried not to mind.
‘Joyce not back yet?’
‘No – she’ll be along,’ Cynthia said, handing her a cup of tea. ‘Here, get this down you, and come and sit down – I’ve got something to tell you.’
Em saw that she was looking quite cheerful.
‘Mom’s got a job,’ Vi said.
‘Oi, I was going to tell her!’ Cynthia said indignantly.
Em felt herself freeze, just as she had been starting to thaw out. A job – Mom! How was that possible?
‘What d’you mean?’ she said stupidly.
‘You know – a job. For money,’ Violet said, as if Em was a halfwit.
‘All right, you. Just ’cos you’re going to night school.’
Violet was a bright girl, and ambitious. ‘I’m not working on the factory floor all my life,’ she had said. ‘I want to get on – at least have a job in an office. So she had taken herself off to the Commercial School in the evenings.
‘It’s only cleaning,’ Cynthia said. ‘At The Woodman.’
‘Where’s that?’
‘Over in Cattells Grove.’
Em found herself full of a mounting panic. ‘But – I mean, why?’ She found she couldn’t cope with the idea. In all her years, Mom had never had a job outside the house!
‘Well, I wanted to get out a bit. And for the money – you know, the usual reasons, and I heard the landlord was looking for someone . . .’
‘But you can’t!’ Em snapped. She found herself close to tears. Mom not here, in the house the way she always was – it was unthinkable! ‘I mean, what about all our arrangements? What about Robbie? If you’re not here . . .’
‘I’ve told you, love,’ Cynthia said, taken aback by her fury. ‘It’s only mornings. I’ll be back to pick up Robbie as usual – wouldn’t miss it for the world.’
‘What’s up with you?’ Violet said peering at her. ‘What the hell’s wrong with Mom getting a little job?’
‘I . . . nothing,’ Em said, swallowing down her emotion. Of course she was being silly. But why did she feel so betrayed? And as if her father was being betrayed, too. Things were just changing too fast.
‘I can’t just sit here grieving,’ Cynthia said. ‘It’s no good – I need to get out and do something . . .’
There was a bang of the front door and in came Joyce, wrapped up to the pink tip of her nose in a big brown scarf. She looked full of life, her honey-coloured hair tied up, and the picture of health.
‘What’s going on?’ She pulled at the scarf.
‘Em doesn’t want Mom to go out to work,’ Violet said.
Joyce turned from going to hang her coat up, a frown on her face. ‘What’s it got to do with you?’
‘Well . . .’ Em was shrinking inside. ‘Nothing, I s’pose, it was just—’
‘No, that’s it – nothing.’ Joyce went over to pour herself tea. ‘Why shouldn’t our mom go and get herself a little job, if it makes her feel better? It’s not up to you to keep coming round here, bossing us all around, you know. You live somewhere else now – and even if you didn’t, you’re not in charge here, you know!’
‘Oi, that’s enough,’ Cynthia said.
Em was stung to the core by these words. She and Joyce always squabbled more than she did with Violet, but this time the words hit home. She had felt as if she was in charge of them all, especially now, with Dad gone. Just like when she was little, the way she had had to take over, as if none of them could manage themselves. The habit had formed in her without her realizing.
‘It’s all right,’ Cynthia said gently, seeing that she was upset. She touched Em’s arm for a second. ‘Don’t you worry – everything’ll be all right.’
Em gave a grudging smile. She felt silly, weepy, but more reassured now. ‘Yeah, I s’pect it will.’
They changed the subject, talking about their days. Violet’s had been boring, she said. Joyce was happier with factory work – she liked the company, the banter. And Larry was never too far away.
‘Eh,’ Cynthia said to Em, ‘didn’t you say you was meeting up with that O’Neill girl? Dot said she’d seen you both.’
‘Sunday, she said. That was something I wanted to ask you, Mom. She’s coming over from Handsworth way, with her little boy. Could we come here? It’d just be better than Edna’s.’
‘Course you can,’ Cynthia said. ‘It’ll be company for Robbie . . .’
‘Is that that Katie O’Neill?’ Joyce said, trying to recall the facts. ‘Didn’t you tell me – isn’t she the stuck-up little bitch who told you to get lost when . . . ?’
Em nodded. ‘Yes, it is her. But she’s different now. Seems ever so nice.’
‘I should hope she flipping well is different,’ Joyce said.
‘It was a long time ago,’ Em went on. Though she, too, could not quite forget the hurt of it, the way Katie had rejected her all those years ago. ‘I’m quite looking forward to seeing her.’
She realized, as she made her way home, that Katie’s visit was beginning to loom large in her mind. Katie had always had a glow around her at school, at least so far as Em was concerned. She knew she had to try and grow out of the picture that she had of Katie. After all, they weren’t children any more, picking best friends in the playground.
‘I mustn’t be silly about it,’ she told herself. ‘We’ll probably just have a quick catch-up and then never see each other again. And I don’t s’pose she really wants to know the likes of me anyway.’
But Katie had seemed so pleased to see her this time, and Em knew that really she hoped for more than that – she wanted Katie’s friendship.
Fifty-Six
By the time Em opened the door to Katie that Sunday afternoon, she was in such a state of nerves that her hands were trembling.
On the step stood Katie, looking as smart and neat as ever in a navy coat and hat and, beside her, her beautiful boy, his deep-blue eyes peeping out from under dark curling lashes and a red knitted hat.
‘Hello,’ Em said, flustered. ‘Come on in – it’s freezing out there. Come and get warm by the fire, the pair of you.’
‘Hello,’ Katie said, ushering her son in with her. ‘It’s all right – this lady is an old friend of mine, Mrs . . . ?’
Em laughed. ‘Mrs Stapleton. But you can’t call me that, for goodness’ sake!’ She wanted to say: Call me Auntie Em, but it seemed too eager. ‘Hello again, Michael. Oh, isn’t he beautiful, Katie! I’ll call Robbie – he’s upstairs.’
As she did so, Cynthia came and greeted Katie. Em, calling up to Robbie, was praying inwardly: Please let them be all right; don’t let Robbie do anything wrong. She was worried that her son might be too boisterous for the younger one, or even take a dislike to him.
Robbie came thumping down the stairs and stopped on the bottom step, taking in the sight of Michael. Katie had just pulled off the hat to reveal his head of black curly hair. Robbie’s was shorter, lighter.
‘Robbie,’ she said. ‘This is the friend I told you about: Michael. How about
we find the pair of you something to do, eh?’
‘Football,’ Robbie said emphatically.
‘But . . .’ Em was about to protest, but Michael was already heading towards Robbie, seemingly fascinated by the sight of him. He stood staring up at him, wide-eyed, and Robbie, a step higher than Michael and already taller by two years, looked down and, seeing an eager follower whom he could command and teach, became instantly well disposed.
‘Don’t s’pose he’s much good. But I’ll try and show him,’ he said in a weary voice, which made Katie laugh. Watching her, Em saw that something in her had changed. She seemed more relaxed than she had ever been.
‘Well, it’s stopped raining outside,’ Cynthia said. ‘They can go out in the yard, if you don’t mind them getting grubby. There’s just about enough room for them to kick a ball around.’
‘I remember it,’ Katie said, looking round her. She sounded quite emotional. ‘Goodness, yes, I remember this house . . .’
Michael, hat on again, followed Robbie outside.
‘I’ll go and have a look – see they’re all right,’ Cynthia said. ‘You girls go and get some tea.’
In the back room, while Em made tea and they were suddenly silent, Katie still kept looking round.
‘It seems so long,’ she said. ‘And yet you’ve been here all this time!’
‘Well, I don’t live here any more of course,’ Em said. ‘Only I thought it’d be better if we met here. Sit down – would you like a piece of cake? We made a sponge.’
And then, as Em had dreamed so many times, there they were, sitting at the table, drinking tea together. She looked shyly at Katie, wondering where they were going to begin.
‘I had a lot on my plate when I saw you in town that time,’ Katie said. ‘You know, just after the war.’ The memory had obviously been troubling her. ‘I had a new job, was trying to find somewhere to live, and Michael was small – I didn’t seem to have room in my thoughts for much else. I was sorry afterwards – wished we’d arranged to meet or something . . .’
‘Well,’ Em made a face, ‘I suppose I was on my way to a hanging, as well.’
‘Oh yes – goodness, so you were!’
Cynthia popped back in to say the boys were getting along fine. ‘Robbie’s very much in charge,’ she said. ‘But Michael seems quite happy.’
‘It’s good for him,’ Katie said. Em watched her as she spoke to Cynthia, with a sense of wonder that she was here, and thinking how nice she looked, how pretty.
‘Don’t you worry – just pop out every now and then. I’m going to go and see Dot,’ Cynthia said. ‘Leave you two to it. Joyce and Vi are out, so you won’t be disturbed.’
‘Before you go,’ Katie said, half getting up.
‘What is it, love?’ Cynthia came over with her coat.
‘Well . . .’ Katie sank to her chair again, blushing. Em saw that her hands had a tremor too. ‘I know it might seem a bit silly, after all this time. But I want to clear the air. When we were living down the road, my mother didn’t behave very nicely to some people . . .’
‘That wasn’t your fault,’ Cynthia said. ‘You were only a babby!’
Katie seemed very moved by this. Her eyes filled with tears and for a moment she struggled to speak. ‘It’s nice of you to say that,’ she said. ‘But all the same . . . I wanted to say I’m sorry – to both of you. When you were poorly, Mrs Brown, my mother wasn’t very kind about it, and she made me feel that I shouldn’t see Em and play with her. And I went along with her, and I know it was wrong of me. Truly wrong and nasty.’ Katie wiped her eyes. ‘I was horrible to you, Em, and I just went off and left you when you needed a friend. And I was so busy being snooty towards Molly Fox that I couldn’t even see that . . . well, in her way, she was better than me, wasn’t she?’
Em swallowed. This she couldn’t deny. ‘Molly was a good friend then,’ she said.
‘Well, I’ve always regretted that I wasn’t.’ Katie spoke looking down at the tabletop. ‘And that I didn’t argue with my mother. She was so . . . so forceful, and so worried all the time about my uncle – I think that was what it was, partly . . .’ She looked up at them again.
‘Your uncle suffered in his mind, didn’t he?’ Cynthia asked.
Katie stared at her and suddenly burst out laughing. ‘It’s so funny, isn’t it? All these things people think they’re hiding, trying to keep a secret – and everyone knows all along! Why can’t we all just tell the truth!’
‘Well, yes . . . I s’pose you’re right,’ Em said. ‘But people can be so unkind.’
‘Oh, they certainly can,’ Katie said. ‘I do want you to know how sorry I am for being so nasty myself.’
Cynthia walked round and patted Katie’s shoulder. ‘So far as I’m concerned, it’s all past history and we’ll put it behind us, love. Now – don’t forget to give those lads some cake. I’ll see you later.’
When she’d gone, they sat quietly for a minute before Em said, ‘I still can’t believe you’re here.’
‘It’s ever so nice to see you,’ Katie said, and again Em was struck by the change in her, the cold, closed manner all gone. ‘I’ve missed you, you know.’
‘Me too.’ Now it was Em’s turn to have tears in her eyes. ‘Funny, isn’t it – we were only babbies, but we got on so well. And now, knowing you’ve got a little lad as well – it’d seem such a waste, never seeing them together. Hang on, I’ll go and have a look at them . . .’
From the back door she saw that the two boys were happy in the yard. Robbie was instructing Michael quite pompously in the arts of football. Em smiled and went back in.
‘They’re happy as Larry,’ she said. ‘Now then, will you tell me about your life – what’s happened to you?’
Katie talked then, for a long time, about how things had been at home with her mother and uncle. Em watched her as she talked, sometimes looking at Em, sometimes away at the window. Em was fascinated, seeing the way her mouth moved as she talked, her fingers – she remembered her hands, her wide nails – the slant of her shoulders. It seemed so strange that Katie should seem so closely familiar after all this time.
‘Michael’s father has never once seen him,’ she went on. Her voice was dispassionate. ‘I won’t say who he is – it doesn’t really matter now. When we met, I think I was just amazed that anyone would be interested in me, like that. I hadn’t a clue about men, and I didn’t have a very high opinion of myself. He seemed very keen, and I just thought that because he said he was keen on me, that I must be on him. We weren’t suited at all really. If we’d married, I think I’d have been very unhappy.’
She looked across and saw the sadness in Em’s eyes.
‘That’s terrible,’ Em said. For all the days of humdrum life, working, bringing up Robbie, Em knew she had loved Norm, that underneath it all she still did. ‘How did you manage? I mean, when he was born?’
‘I went to a friend – her family were very kind. And then I went back to work. You know, shorthand and typing.’
‘That’s what our Vi wants to do,’ Em said, smiling.
‘It’s not a bad job. There’s plenty of work.’
Em was just about to speak again when the back door opened and the boys came roaring in, pink-cheeked and excited.
‘Nanna said there’s cake!’ Robbie cried. His eyes fastened on the Victoria sponge cake. ‘Ooh – can we have some?’
They were soon tucking into slices of the dry cake and a cup of milk.
‘Michael’s getting a bit better at football,’ Robbie reported. ‘But he won’t catch up with me – not yet.’
The two mothers smiled. ‘Well, thank you for giving him a lesson anyway,’ Katie said.
‘Right, you two – go on, Robbie, find your cars and your bits and bobs. You two can settle down here now.’
‘Oh!’ they both cried, and Robbie said, ‘Oh, Mom – we want to go out again!’
It was still light, so Em agreed.
Katie told Em about Maudie, and the
n about Sybil’s house and finally, with a blush, she talked about Marek.
‘I thought you had roses in your cheeks,’ Em said. Maybe Marek was the one who had made Katie seem so different, she thought. ‘Polish,’ she added. ‘My goodness! Does he speak English?’
‘Yes,’ Katie chuckled. ‘Sometimes it’s funny, when he gets things wrong. He’s ever so good with Michael. I think . . .’ She frowned, as if trying to work something out. ‘I don’t know why we get on really.’ There was something in each of them, of loss and need and a shared sense of humour. Not to mention physical attraction. ‘It’s just something you can’t really put into words, isn’t it? Just something right.’
‘I s’pose it is,’ Em said.
Katie looked closely at her and held out her cup for the top-up that Em was offering.
‘Quite enough of my life. Tell me about you?’
‘Oh, not much to tell.’ Being unusually blunt after Katie’s honesty, she said, ‘Married. Living with his mom and dad, for better or worse. One son: can’t seem to have any more.’
Tears came again, quite unexpectedly, and she ducked her head down.
‘Oh dear – oh, Em, you’re really upset, aren’t you?’ Katie’s kind voice brought out all Em’s bottled-up feelings.
‘I know I should be grateful for having one son,’ she said through her tears. ‘But Norm wasn’t here to see him grow up, either, and they’ve never been all that close. I don’t want many – just one more, that Norm can get to know from the beginning. I think it would bring us closer, too. Not that it’s bad. We’re OK.’ Now she felt she’d said too much, or at least that it had come out clumsily and given the wrong impression. She and Norm were OK – of course they were!
