Free All the Days of Our Lives by Annie Murray

where, pray, have you been?’
    ‘Oh!’ Katie jumped violently. ‘Mother! What on earth are you doing there, sitting in the dark?’
    Stepping down, she felt around for the switch in the back and turned on the light. As soon as she did so, she wished she hadn’t.
    Vera was sitting bolt upright in her chair beside the fire, which had almost gone out. The room was very chilly. She stared across the room at the wall, not meeting Katie’s eyes.
    ‘Mother?’ Katie faltered, shrinking inside. Nothing was said, but she felt as if she was in a room full of gas. If she were to strike a flame, however small, the whole house would blow up.
    Vera got up and, ignoring Katie as if she wasn’t there, went upstairs and shut herself in her room.

Eight
     
    Katie found her first weeks working at Collinge’s rather lonely.
    After that night she had not seen Terence again. He had left a couple of notes for her, but she didn’t reply, and he gave up. Vera had gone up to bed that night and, afterwards, had not spoken one word to Katie for two days. Mealtimes were silent, the two of them at the table, avoiding each other’s eyes.
    At first Katie was resentful. All I did was go and see a friend for one evening, she thought. But as her mother’s thunderous silence began to work on her, she felt first deflated, then guilty. Her mother was expert at tugging on the reins of her emotions, and especially at making her feel guilty. She knew Vera worried. And she had had such bad shocks in her life: first her husband dying, then Patrick. She was always afraid of something terrible happening to Katie, who was the only person she had in the world. By the time the silence had gone on for the third day, Katie came home from a tough day at Collinge’s feeling close to tears and ready to eat humble pie. She just couldn’t stand another evening in, with Vera giving her the silent treatment, the only human sounds coming from an occasional muffled voice from outside, beyond the swathing blackout curtains. She might as well give in. Vera always had to be in the right.
    Before either of them had even begun cooking tea, Katie went to her mother in the kitchen. Vera was standing at the sink in the scullery, her hands in water.
    ‘I’m very sorry if I’ve upset you,’ she said. ‘I never meant to. I was just out with someone I met. I wasn’t doing anything wrong, I promise.’
    Vera turned her head, and for a second her eyes wore a harsh expression as if she was about to speak angrily. Then she looked down at her hands in the water.
    ‘You must . . .’ She swallowed. ‘You must consider my feelings. Here I am, all alone . . . You go off, and I’ve got no idea where you are, whether you’re with some man.’
    ‘But—’ Katie tried to interrupt. She hardly ever went out! Her mother was making her sound like a wild and uncontrolled man-eater!
    Vera silenced her again with a look. She lifted her hands out of the sink and reached for the towel on its nearby hook.
    ‘I think it would be better if you didn’t go out of an evening.’ She dried her hands and put the towel back. ‘I mean, look what happened to your uncle . . .’ She covered her eyes with a hand for a moment. Katie realized they both knew that Uncle Patrick’s death had not been an accident, but never could this be admitted out loud. ‘At least until the war’s over.’
    ‘Until the war’s over?’ Katie was outraged ‘But that could be years – we don’t know when it’s going to end, do we?’
    ‘Of course not – but did you hear what I said? I’m not having it. You’ll stay in.’
    Katie had not had much of a social life before, but she had at least seen some of her girlfriends. She’d more or less lost touch with her old school friend Amy, who had worked on the Woolworth’s counters after leaving school, had married a boy called Dickie when she was seventeen and moved over to Northfield. So far as Katie knew, Amy was looking after their little boy while Dickie was