‘I’ll find another place to live,’ she promised Enid. ‘Only I just need somewhere for tonight. I don’t want to make trouble for you. You’ve been very kind.’

‘Well, Katie – I can’t say I’m not surprised at what you’ve told me. Shocked is the word – I’m shocked. But I’ve known you for such a time, I’m fond of you, bab, and your mother and I’ve been friends for years . . .’

‘Yes, that’s what I mean – I don’t want to cause trouble.’

‘And she threw you out?’ Enid’s good-natured face creased with distress. ‘I mean, it must’ve been a terrible blow for her. You’ve always been such a good girl, Katie. And your mother’s a lady. But surely she’ll change her mind, she’ll get over it. I mean, you’re her flesh and blood when it comes down to it. I should leave it a few days and then go and see her. Make it up with her. It’s hard for a mother to see this happen – but to wash her hands of you! I should have thought better of her. Give her another chance, and maybe she’ll give you one.’

Katie was silent. She remembered the look of vicious loathing on her mother’s face and her words: D’you think I’ve hauled myself out of the gutter for you to drag us straight back down there again?

‘I don’t know about that,’ she said.

‘Look.’ Enid got up. ‘You can stay here tonight – of course you can. I mean, I can’t put you up for the long term, but . . .’

‘Oh no, I know! Thank you so much.’ She felt tearful again.

‘But do as I say, love – go and see your mother. See if you both can’t come to some agreement.’

As she settled Katie into her spare room that night – the room that had once been her dead son’s – Enid said goodnight, then added, ‘I wish I could say it’s going to be easy, love. But the fact is, you’re going to have a struggle ahead of yer.’

Twenty-One

There was a thick fog the next evening when she came out of work. People were calling out to one another in exasperation at being bumped into or struggling to find the right turning.

‘Oi – watch it!’ a male voice snapped as Katie’s shoulder collided painfully with someone. She paused in the street to get her bearings.

The firm where she now worked, under the eagle eye of a Miss Poulter, who was in charge of the typing pool, was in Ombersley Road in Balsall Heath. It was not too long a walk to Sparkhill, but at this rate it would take ages.

Gradually Katie felt her way along to where she needed to turn off, coughing in the damp, acrid air, though at least the dark and fog made her feel safely hidden. All the time now she felt as if everyone could see that she was growing out at the front. She had not mentioned that she was expecting when she went for the job, though she did call herself Mrs O’Neill.