Claude knew it was only a matter of time until his family learnt of his return. News travelled quickly and it would only be worse the longer he held it off. He knew it was not going to end well. Not if his father was home. The best he could hope for was a punch to the face and disownment. The worst was probably his own death. Neither were particularly exciting prospects.

So, he had planned to visit his mother during the time his father should be either at work or finding at one of the pubs. He had a basket of breads and cheeses with him for the children, wondering if they had been getting enough to eat.

Walking through the streets, childhood memories he had forgotten in his time away came rushing to mind. It was hard to believe he used to love this town. Now he could just see how terrible it had been…

He hardly had to think as he followed the familiar road up to his family’s home, pausing at the gate for a moment before wandering in and towards the door.

Haha, Harry at work. He swung the door to the outside privy open and stepped out, buttoning up his trousers. But he stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed the young man in their yard. "Why, ye wee shite," he muttered, glaring at his eldest son. Ruth never answered their letters anymore, nor did she visit, or send them money at least. Noah had moved out to take a job as farmhand, but that bastard Mr. Meijer paid him so poorly that it was little help to them. But it was Claude walking out on them that had really given them trouble. The selfish twit! After everything they had done for him!

Claude stopped when he heard the all to familiar sound of the outhouse door swing open. He turned to look and, while hardly surprised, took a step backwards when he saw his father walk out. Well... so much for his plan on the man not being around today.

"Harry" he nodded before turning to keep heading for the door. He was here for his mother, not his father.

Harry wrinkled his nose. Who the hell did this kid think he was? Ok, so he had grown some chin down. Didn't mean he could speak to him as an equal! "What did ye call me?" he challenged. He strode after the young man, grabbed his collar and pulled him back.

There were new women's shoes by the door. Since when did Anita wear heels? She could barely balance in flats.

Claude saw the shoes, causing him to pause long enough for his father to catch up. Only as Harry pulled, Claude held his ground. If his clothes ripped, so be it. But a year of eating well and working everyday had made him strong enough to resist the pull for the first time in his life.

He ignored the question, deciding to ask his own. "Whose shoes are those?"

There had been a time when Harry could throw Claude on the ground with ease. That time was over. Frustrated that he couldn't get to Claude, he turned his attention to his wife. "The shoes of a whore!" he shouted. "What are you doin' out? Did they open a bottle of wine somewhere?"

Claude frowned and turned to look at his father as the man called out to the house. It was hardly the first time that Harry had spoken to his mother like that. But how could see have afforded such shoes? "They're mothers?" he asked confused.