Closer than Blood: Friendship Helps You Survive. Julie Shaw

far too young to be either Margaret or – what was the other one’s name? That was it. Eunice.

      She returned all their smiles, then looked helplessly at her jam jar of hot tea. Where did she start? She wasn’t even sure how she’d pick it up without burning herself. Did everyone in the family have asbestos hands? She remembered Keith’s question. ‘No, thanks,’ she said, suddenly struck by the poverty she was seeing. ‘This is just fine,’ she added, gesturing to the jam jar in front of her. ‘My mam will have my tea made when I get home.’

      ‘You sure, love?’ Keith’s mam said. ‘It’s a long walk back to Clayton.’

      ‘I’ll have hers then,’ one of the boys on the floor piped up. ‘If you’re sure, like,’ he added, blushing furiously.

      Which was pleasing. So at least she wasn’t the most scarlet cheeked in the room.

      Shirley’s embarrassment subsided almost immediately, in fact. Keith introduced everyone; the other girl was June and the quiet one on the sofa did turn out to be Charlie. She’d been right; she’d recognised him from back when he’d been in court. Then there was another man who arrived just after they had – he was apparently Ronnie – with the same seemingly trademark slick of thick inky hair. And after the niceties had been observed and she’d finally dared to pick her tea up, the room returned more or less to the way it had been when she’d arrived.

      She’d never heard so many people speaking and joking and laughing all at once, and she soon forgot about feeling sorry for them about all the things they didn’t have – no proper curtains, no carpets and, as Keith had already told her, no electricity – and instead she was soon feeling envious of what they did have and what she definitely didn’t: such a big happy family, such an obvious camaraderie, all those little ones, all that lovely hustle and bustle and noise.

      The noise, in particular, felt so strange, but in a good way. Apart from at the weekends, when her mam and dad got drunk (which was always horrible), Shirley was used to polite chit chat, order, meals eaten in silence. This was a much more exciting way to live – as far as she was concerned, anyway – and helped make sense of the way Keith was always so confident and easy going, so at one with himself. She couldn’t wait to embed herself within it.