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Chapters (84)
  1. All the Days of Our Lives
  2. 1945
  3. 1931-1944
  4. I
  5. One
  6. Two
  7. Three
  8. Four
  9. Five
  10. Six
  11. Seven
  12. Eight
  13. Nine
  14. Ten
  15. Eleven
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Nineteen
  24. Twenty
  25. Twenty-One
  26. Twenty-Two
  27. 1946
  28. II
  29. Twenty-Three
  30. Twenty-Four
  31. Twenty-Five
  32. Twenty-Six
  33. III
  34. Twenty-Seven
  35. Twenty-Eight
  36. Twenty-Nine
  37. IV
  38. Thirty
  39. Thirty-One
  40. Thirty-Two
  41. V
  42. Thirty-Three
  43. Thirty-Four
  44. Thirty-Five
  45. VI
  46. Thirty-Six
  47. Thirty-Seven
  48. 1948-1949
  49. VII
  50. Thirty-Eight
  51. Thirty-Nine
  52. Forty
  53. VIII
  54. Forty-One
  55. Forty-Two
  56. Forty-Three
  57. IX
  58. Forty-Four
  59. Forty-Five
  60. Forty-Six
  61. X
  62. Forty-Seven
  63. Forty-Eight
  64. Forty-Nine
  65. Fifty
  66. Fifty-One
  67. Fifty-Two
  68. Fifty-Three
  69. Fifty-Four
  70. XI
  71. Fifty-Five
  72. Fifty-Six
  73. XII
  74. Fifty-Seven
  75. Fifty-Eight
  76. XIII
  77. Fifty-Nine
  78. XIV
  79. Sixty
  80. XV
  81. Sixty-One
  82. Sixty-Two
  83. 1953
  84. All the Days of Our Lives

‘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?’