Lottie nodded over the rim of her teacup. The rebellious streak of the Clarke women was alive and kicking having trickled down the family tree, first to Lottie, now Ruth. Littlest Kate had shown flashes that she too would remain steadfast in her own mind and voice, especially in her dealings with that bloated haddock carcass Ben Ward.

"That McCloud boy had better not knock at my door. I'll shove me pin right up his.. Hutton Le-Hole.." Lottie's colourful threat harked back to her upbringing as a fisherlass.