KATIE

The train was crowded and by the time I’d queued for the bus I was soaked. Who’d have thought that such a lovely summer day could turn out so wet? And of course I didn’t have an umbrella with me. Actually I don’t own an umbrella. Every time I buy one I leave it somewhere. I’ve lost count of all the umbrellas I’ve lost so in the end I gave up buying them and now I just leave it to chance.

It was a relief to get back to my tiny flat in Hackney Road, change out of my damp clothes and put my feet up with a cuppa to think about the day. I really enjoyed it. It was great seeing Sophie and Fran again. Of course all our lives have taken very different directions since we were all at school together, but I could tell that underneath they were still the same – like me. After the first few minutes the years seemed to roll back and we all reverted to our schoolgirl selves.

Going back over our natter I winced at the thought of some of the things I’d said. I really must learn to ‘engage brain’ as they say. Why on earth had I said I was a fashion designer? They hadn’t believed me of course. They must have thought that nothing had changed and that I was still fantasizing – which is true to a certain extent. It’s part of my nature. I’ve always done it, maybe I always will, though not to the crazy, outrageous extent that I did when I was a kid. Now it’s more what I’d prefer to call exaggeration. Anyway, hearing all about their exotic lifestyles I had to think of something interesting to tell them about me, didn’t I? Not that it was a total fib. I’ve been designing clothes for a while now. I just haven’t managed to get anyone interested enough to buy any of my designs. But give it time, eh?

I work in a rather exclusive little boutique in Kensington called Fantaisie, and I have to admit that once or twice I’ve pinched the odd design for the dresses I make. I’ve always altered them a little, just to be on the safe side and anyway I only did it as a favour for customers who couldn’t afford the real thing. Over the past few years I’ve worked up quite a nice little clientele with my dressmaking: evening gowns and bridesmaid dresses, outfits for the bride’s mum and white dresses for little girls taking their first communion. About a year ago I was asked to make my first wedding dress. That was a big thrill, except that the bride didn’t have a clue what she wanted. I talked to her, made a few sketches and got some fabric samples for her to see. We tried this and that and eventually I came up with something she was pleased with. At the wedding – to which I was invited – a lot of people asked who made the dress. I got several more orders through it. That was what gave me the idea of designing myself and so far it’s proving quite popular, in a small way. Someone suggested taking some of my designs to one of the big fashion houses, but so far I’ve chickened out on that.

At the moment I’m working on a wedding dress which has to be ready for early August so I’d better get my skates on. I have to do my sewing work at weekends and in the evenings after work, which takes a lot of self discipline. Being at today’s reunion meant I’d lost a whole day so I told myself that when I’d made myself something to eat I’d better get down to it.

This dress has a lot of beadwork on the bodice so while I’m sitting here sewing away I’m remembering the events of the day. When we were at school I was always aware that Sophie and Fran had very different situations at home to me. Sophie had parents who spoiled her with toys and clothes and everything a child could possibly want. Fran’s parents weren’t as well off but her mum was always there after school to pick her up and take her to the park or shopping. I envied them both but not in a bad way. I never felt spiteful towards them. They were good friends to me. They never made nasty remarks or bullied me, like some girls did, about my accent, my shabby clothes and unruly ginger hair. I loved them both for that.

I can’t remember my dad. He was killed in some kind of fight in Belfast where we used to live when I was a baby. Mum did her best bringing up my four brothers and me, after she lost Dad. She wanted to move away from Ireland to get us away from the troubles but one of my older brothers was already working and the other two, who are twins, were in the middle of exams at school. As soon as they left school and started working Mum sent them to live with my gran and brought my brother, Liam and I to England. I was five by then and Liam was fifteen. She had a friend in Leicester who found us a flat in the same high-rise block where she lived.

Poor Mum worked so hard, going out to clean offices early in the morning while Liam and I were still asleep and then again to another job in a factory after we’d gone to school.

When Liam was twenty he married a girl he met at St Joseph’s where he was a server. His wife, Shauna moved in with us after the wedding. Right from the start she never tried to hide the fact that she didn’t like me. A year later, Mum – who’d never been very strong – got ill and died, worn out with worry and work. After the funeral Shauna suggested to Liam that he should have me taken into care but he refused point blank. After that she resented me even more.

When Shauna had baby Declan we were allotted a council house. It was nice for me because it was closer to school, but the minute I got home I had to look after the baby and make Liam’s tea while Shauna went off to her evening job in the local pub. Declan was a miserable baby. He never stopped leaking – from both ends – and no matter what you did with him he cried non-stop. He was enough to put anyone off having kids for life. It was almost impossible for me to concentrate on my homework and I never seemed to have time to catch up. Saturday mornings I had to do the housework while Shauna went shopping and then Saturday evenings and Sunday mornings I had a paper round. The result was that I failed most of my GCSEs. The only ones I passed were art and needlework, my favourite subjects. Shauna said it was because I was thick and good for nothing. Liam just smiled sheepishly and said nothing. He never stood up for me. I know he sympathized but I think he was half afraid of Shauna’s vile temper.

Of course I never let on to Sophie and Fran how bad things were at home. I was too ashamed. I painted an idyllic picture of life with Liam and Shauna, who I described as a glamorous model, and my angelic baby nephew. I made up stories all the time, some of them so outrageous that I knew perfectly well they wouldn’t believe – like how I was really a princess who’d been changed with another baby at birth. Then there was the time I said I’d met Sean Connery – who was related to me of course – and he told me he’d get me into the next Bond film and make me a millionaire. Sophie and Fran knew it was all fantasy but it made them laugh and they always wanted to hear what came next because I made it sound so exciting. I never told them about the drudgery I endured or the crafty slaps Shauna handed out or the names she called me when Liam wasn’t around, so I suppose that when I failed most of my GCSEs they must have shared Shauna’s view that I was thick, not that either of them was mean enough to say so.

After school I sort of lost touch with the girls. Sophie went off to a sixth form college and then to art school and Fran just seemed to disappear. I got a job in a supermarket, stacking shelves. I saved as much as I could out of my meagre wages. It wasn’t much because Shauna took rent off me as well as expecting me to carry on with the chores the same as before. As soon as I could I found a little bedsit of my own. It wasn’t much but it was bliss to be able to come home and actually have some free time. There was a hell of a row when I announced that I was moving out. Shauna called me an ungrateful little – well, you can guess, but I know for a fact that it was only the rent she took off me and the free skivvying and baby sitting that she was going to miss.

I was eighteen when I decided to move down here to London. Once again it was to get right away from Shauna. My new-found freedom didn’t last long. She was soon knocking on my door several evenings a week to beg me to babysit. There was always an excuse – she had to go out unexpectedly and couldn’t find anyone to watch Dec, she’d booked a sitter but they’d let her down at the last minute. I knew she was lying of course. I’d heard that she was going clubbing when Liam was working nights and she was getting quite a reputation. I had a strong suspicion that she was cheating on him, but I had no proof so I didn’t dare say anything. I could have refused to make things easy for her but by that time Declan was six and it was clear that she was neglecting him. At least if I went round to babysit I could give him a bath and read him a bedtime story, poor little scrap. I knew the marriage was in trouble and I could see things getting nasty. I hated the thought of getting involved in it all so finally I decided that the only way out of it was to move right away.

By this time I’d been promoted to the checkouts at the supermarket and I applied for a transfer to a new branch that was about to open in Hackney. To my delight I got the transfer and found the little flat where I still live. It’s really a bedsit with an en-suite shower room and cupboard-like kitchen but it’s cheap for London and it’s part of what was once a lovely old house in Hackney Road. The bus for Liverpool Street station stops right outside so it suits me down to the ground.

I’d been here about a year when I saw the job advertised. It was for a sales girl at a boutique called Fantaisie in Chelsea. The name intrigued me. If ever a place was made with me in mind this had to be it! I applied and was offered an interview, I took a trip up to the King’s Road to suss the place out and my heart sank a bit when I saw how posh and up-market it was, but having been offered an interview I wasn’t going to pass it up. On the day I took a lot of trouble with my make-up, did my best to tame my horrible hair and searched my skimpy wardrobe for something suitable to wear but when I got there it was obvious that I couldn’t hold a candle to the other applicants. I was totally gob-smacked when I was offered the job. I think what swung it for me was the GCSEs in art and needlework and the fact that I was willing and able to do customers’ alterations.

So that’s all about me. Not very exciting like Sophie and Fran, is it? I haven’t found a rich, handsome husband and I haven’t achieved any dreams – yet. But I’m happy with my job and my little sideline. I lost touch with my brothers back in Ireland when Gran died but now and again Liam comes down to London to see me. He and Shauna split up a few years ago. In the end she did a bunk with some guy she was working with. I think secretly Liam was relieved. He’s with a lovely girl now and seems very happy. Sometimes he brings Declan with him. Dec’s nearly twenty now and at Leicester University. He’s grown up to be a very nice young man considering what a lousy start he had. He’s not bad looking except that he’s got my crazy red hair, poor kid, but he turned out to be quite clever and he’s studying architecture. I often think how proud Mum would have been, God bless her.