All the Days of Our Lives by Annie Murray

even been out with him. She felt badly about ignoring him and had hoped she might run into him again somewhere, so that she could explain, but it had never happened. ‘What’s Gordon like?’ she asked, hoping to hear about romance and flowers and sentimental things – about all that she was missing.
    ‘Oh, he’s all right, I s’pose, Ann said. ‘A bit boring really, but he’ll do for now. He’s on the shop floor.’ Ann had also found work in a parts factory. ‘Is there any talent at yours?’
    Katie made a face. ‘No – not really.’
    ‘Oh, there must be someone , surely?’
    ‘No. I spend most of my time stuck up there with smelly old Mr Graham, who’s about a hundred and ten. He stands there like this . . .’ Katie leaned back and did an imitation of Mr Graham stroking his portly tummy as he thought what to say next. She wanted to get Ann off the subject of New Year, her lack of a boyfriend, not to mention the impossibility of leaving her mother to see in the New Year alone. ‘Then he strokes his chin and sighs, and there’s a great big waft of tobacco breath, and then he says, “Right, Miss O’Neill, are you ready?” when I’ve been sitting there ready for him to stop puffing and blowing and get on with it!’
    Ann giggled at Katie’s imitation. ‘You should’ve stayed in the pool – at least there’s the other girls.’
    ‘Pays better, though. We’re s’posed to be getting the boss’s son in our office after Christmas. All the women keep going on about him,’ and she mimicked Maureen’s reverential tones: “Young Mr Collinge – he’s been to the University . . .” So goodness knows what that’ll be like.’
    ‘Oh, blimey.’ Ann was not impressed. ‘’E’ll be a boring so-and-so, I’ll bet. He’ll think ’e’s God Almighty an’ all.’ But then she let out her infectious chuckle. ‘That’s blokes for yer in the main, isn’it!’
    They parted in New Street afterwards, wishing each other a happy Christmas.
    ‘Have a good New Year’s!’ Katie said cheerfully, as if she wasn’t bothered. ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!’
    ‘Oh, I s’pect I’ll see you before then,’ Ann said. ‘I’d better get off and get a couple of presents for my sister’s kids, the little buggers! Tara, Katie!’
    Fondly, Katie watched her walk away. Ann’s busy, highly populated life made her feel very lonely.
    Katie was dreading Christmas. It had been bad enough before, but since Uncle Patrick had died, everything seemed far bleaker. At least when he was alive she knew they would always go to Midnight Mass, and sometimes her mother even came too. And Patrick had got them playing games – cards and dominoes and guessing games. He had been used to jollying children along and had ideas up his sleeve. But each year since seemed to have become more difficult, and a few days ago Katie had had an idea. Why hadn’t she thought of it before?
    ‘Mother, shall we ask Enid over to share Christmas dinner with us this year? Otherwise she’ll be all on her own, won’t she?’
    ‘Yes, all right,’ Vera agreed. ‘And knowing Enid, she’ll bring some of her rations over too.’
    On Christmas Eve Katie said, ‘I think I’d like to go to Mass this year. Will you come with me?’
    ‘You do know I’m not a Catholic, don’t you?’ Vera replied harshly.
    ‘But you . . .’
    ‘Yes – I was one all right. A lot of good it did me too!’
    But she did go, in the end. They stood side by side, warmed on this cold night by the congregation packed in side by side. Katie listened to the Latin words and watched the priest and altar boys at the front, remembering how Uncle Patrick had always stood beside her like a thin shadow, his head humbly bowed and hands clasped. Tears slid down her cheeks and she quietly wiped them away. That night, more than any other she could remember, she felt her lack of family. All the questions that she knew never to ask began to surface in her mind. Where are my