Sometimes Em felt overwhelmed by her worries. It was bad enough being shoehorned in with Norm’s mom and dad, and with she and Norm struggling for any sort of private life. And as well as mourning her dad, she was now mourning the fact that it seemed certain she and Norm were not going to have any more children. They had talked about it off and on, but after a while there didn’t seem to be anything more to say. If she ever mentioned it now, Norm got scratchy with her and said things like, ‘Well, what d’you want me to do about it – eh?’ She knew he was angry and blamed himself, and in her heart of hearts she blamed him too. And there was Robbie, headstrong and hardly ever her little boy any more. All that was enough – but having to worry about Mom and the others just added to her burden. She knew she frowned more than she used to, and saw little lines appearing on her forehead and around her mouth.

‘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.