Blood Ties: Part 1 of 3: Family is not always a place of safety. Julie Shaw
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a ton, but a year of working long hours in the pub had built up her muscles. She might be downtrodden, but she was young, fit and strong, and that pleased her, even if it was just another reason for Irene and Monica, both short and podgy, to resent her.
She spotted Irene’s cigarettes on the windowsill and pinched one to smoke while the tea brewed. She did this most mornings, and didn’t feel a shred of guilt about it. Irene made sure half her wages got taken straight off her for her board and lodgings, so there was never enough left to justify buying her own Woodbines – and certainly not when her stupid stepmother was so careless with her own. It was another ritual she enjoyed before the rest of the family rose. The back door of the flat opened out onto a small section of flat roof with a railing round it, from when the last owners of the Dog and Duck kept their dog there. Now it served as a sort of patio, perfectly placed as a sun trap, and though her table and chair were an upturned beer crate and a wonky stool respectively, it always felt a treat to be out there, out of the way, with just her own thoughts for company.
Despite the nip in the air, the sun was shining and the day looked like being glorious, so Kathleen lingered as long as she could before going back in to start rousing the family. Darren was first; he needed to be off soon for his early start down at the hospital, and as she went into his bedroom her nose was immediately assaulted by the stale, smelly air that filled the room. What was it with lads and their bodily functions? It was the same in the gents downstairs in the pub. The ladies was never half as bad.
‘Daz! It’s half seven,’ she whispered, shaking him awake. ‘Time to get up.’
Darren rubbed his eyes and yawned, adding another gust of fetid air into the room. He looked done in and Kathleen wondered what time he’d come in the previous evening. He was a closed one – you never really knew what was going on in his head. Not these days, anyway. Not since he’d left school, really.
He sat up and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. ‘Ooh, is there some tea on, our kid?’ he asked, as if there wasn’t tea on every
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