All the Days of Our Lives by Annie Murray Page A

grandparents? And what about aunts and uncles and cousins? Why are we so alone in the world? She had asked questions when she was a little girl, and had been palmed off with answers that she had had to make do with. Her Irish grandparents were dead, she was told, and her other grandparents had moved far away. Even her one set of English cousins was abroad.
    Her mother seemed stonily calm, yet forbidding, and as they walked home in the darkness, Katie knew that this was not the time to raise the subject.
    Thanks to Enid, they got through Christmas quite enjoyably. Enid had made a little cake with dried egg and a few bits of fruit she’d saved up, and she brought a few of her rations to share – tea and butter. They had a very small beef joint and, later in the afternoon, they went out for a nice airing round Sparkhill.
    ‘Thanks ever so much for inviting me, Vee,’ Enid said as they put the kettle on, on their return home. ‘It would’ve been a long, slow day on my own.’
    ‘Oh, it’s good to have you,’ Vera said, setting out cups. ‘Isn’t it, Katie?’
    But on New Year’s Eve they were on their own, and it felt as if the evening would never end. Vera was going down with a cold and was feeling tired and sorry for herself. Katie thought about Ann, out dancing with Gordon, and her resentment built up. Was she going to be shut in here with her mother’s moods for the rest of her life, while everyone else her age had a jolly time and met men and got married?
    Once they’d had a bit of supper she settled down by the fire and, as usual, hid her nose in a book: Gone With the Wind . She had read it before and it was an old favourite. Her mother had started off some knitting with a few balls of pretty cherry-coloured wool that Katie had managed to get hold of as a Christmas present. Vera had made her a little blouse. The room was cosy with the blackout curtains drawn, the fire well stoked and the lamps on. For a time they listened to the wireless.
    After a while Vera reached across and clicked it off, without saying anything, and went back to her knitting. A horrible tension grew in the room.
    Katie got up and made them each a cup of tea, then sat down, tucking her feet under her, and tried to lose herself in Scarlett and Rhett, enjoying the feel of the heavy book in her hands, the smell of yellowed paper, but it was no good. Unable to bear her mother’s mood any longer, she dared to break into the silence.
    ‘Mother?’
    Vera looked across at her with a strange, almost hostile look, and Katie nearly lost her courage. But she forced herself on.
    Gently, as if talking to a child, she said, ‘You’ve never really told me much about Daddy . . . You see, I can’t really remember anything. And I’d like to know a bit more, if you don’t mind.’
    Vera flinched visibly, but as Katie went on speaking her face changed and a soft smile appeared on her lips. When she spoke it was in the sing-song tone that she sometimes put on when talking about the past.
    ‘You know, Katie, it’s strange that you should bring that up now, because every day you look more like him. Oh! He was a handsome man – and from a good family, never think otherwise. People can be so rude about the Irish, but he was no navvy, your father. You know he was an engineer. When I met him he was just coming to the end of his apprenticeship at the Wolseley works, all set for a really top working life.’
    ‘The first thing I noticed about him when we met was how tall he was, and his eyes – those deep-blue eyes that seemed only for me, twinkling with laughter. I’d never met anyone like him. Of course my own family were very prim and were not keen on the Irish, and Catholics of course – oh!’ She made a gesture which implied that, for her parents and their ilk, this was beyond anything. ‘He completely changed my mind about all that. He was so intelligent – like your Uncle Patrick was, of course – and so lively. We laughed all evening, and by