"Billy, it's me." As if that answer were enough. "Yer sister. Jane." How he had aged, fatter and more wrinkled. Being a nurse she knew all about clean living "God! You look like the back of a Manchester tram."

If Jane thought 'Billy' looked like the sort of man at risk of having a heart attack, she might think he had one now. He gaped at her, turned pale, seemed to stop breathing.

Then he caught his breath and stepped back. "Come in," said the Manchester train, gesturing in the direction of the kitchen, mostly because he needed to sit down. And also because of the neighbours. God, the neighbours!

Jane. His sister Jane... Thirty three years had altered her completely - physically that was, she still liked to criticize him, as had become clear these past few minutes. She was a stout woman now, though healthy, he thought. In fact, she looked better than most women had looked at her age where they had grown up. She was a nurse, he remembered. She had made something of herself. So why did she feel the need to revisit the dreary past she had clearly escaped from?

Jane followed Billy into his house. It was bigger than the one they grew up in, but maybe that was because there weren't so many crammed in it. Her professional eyes noticed the dirt on the top of the skirting boards and in odd corners. She might have to have a word with his wife about her housekeeping, cleanliness prevented illness after all.

"So, Billy.. 'ow are ye?" She asked as if the gap between them seeing each other had been mere weeks instead of decades. "Any chance of a cup? The rails make me terribly thirsty."

He was quick to shut the door behind her. Oh God, how he hoped Lottie was having a good time wherever she was and was not in a rush to come home any time soon.

But somehow closing that door didn't bring the relief he had expected. The memories that had slipped in with her already stifled the air.

In a haze, he headed into the kitchen, merely nodding at her request. Was she watching him as he filled the kettle, spilling half the water because his hands were trembling? Was she judging him as he finally put it on the stove? He dared not look up to see her expression.

Oh, she had asked him something.... "Yeah, I'm fine..." he said vaguely.

He nearly fell down into a chair. Oh cups! He got up. Still, he didn't look at his sister. "Will take a few minutes..." His face, meanwhile had turned from ash gray into bright crimson.

"No rush Billy, I've got all day." Jane answered again, her eyes surveying her brother's kitchen. She would have to talk more with Mrs Blacke, Jane's as yet unmet sister in law, about hygiene, after all this kitchen could stand a scrubbin'. The kitchens at Preston were so clean, you could eat off any surface. Jane also searched the room for a trace or memento of the shared heritage between them. Alas, she couldn't find any.

"Hmm..."

She had all day. Lottie was definitely going to meet her. And so was Kate, at this rate. Possibly even Joe and Ruth would. His brain was too numb to think of how to solve it.

She had all day... He told her not to come to Whitby and she had not just shown up anyway, but was planning to stay all day. Maybe longer...

But he wasn't angry. He was ashamed. It was easier to be rude and tell her to stay away in writing than it was in person, and now that he was in her presence, he felt rather embarrassed about his reply to her letter.

The water boiled and he put tea in the pot and filled it up. Then he reached out to grab two of the special cups for when they had visitors, changed his mind - perhaps he could get her to leave before Lottie came back, but there'd be questions if the good cups had been used - and took two ordinary cups instead. He filled them up. Put the pot down. Sat down. Pushed one cup towards her. Nothing left to focus his attention on rather than her...

He looked at her sheepishly.

"So how..." he stopped. How have you been? These thirty years or so? What a question.

"How's our father?" Our father. Not the familiar 'dad'. He hadn't even dared take it into his mouth when he had returned for the reformatory. It hadn't seemed appropriate. He had been a young man and a stranger to them. The boy and son had been annihilated. It would feel even more inappropriate now, after all these years.

Jane stared at her brother in a grim fashion from under accusatory eyes. How could he ask that? Wait, he might not know.

"Our father? He's dead. In the ground this past month. I did say ye should have come up when I wrote ye."

Once more Little Billy was in the wrong.

And just like that the earth disappeared beneath his feet and he felt his stomach jump. But he was still in his kitchen. He turned away from her and leaned on the counter.

His father was gone. It was better this way, he had told her. He had believed it. He had not realized until now that he had just been waiting... gathering the courage... thinking he still had some time...

He put his hand over his mouth. He could never set it right now. 'Da' was gone. His shoulders began to shake. Big tough Bill broke down in tears.

Jane looked on stiffly, her face expressionless, just like listening to a doctor spouting nonsense and waiting her turn. Her true feelings were different:

How Dare He! 

Abandon his kith and kin fer 30 years, nary a word.

Wrote a letter back sayin' stay away, snapping the branch of peace she offered..

And now he cries.. Big tough Bill blubbing like a babe..

He has no right to cry.. how pathetic


But she said none of this aloud.  "There, There" she offered

Her voice pulled him back to where he was. He couldn't cry now. His sister was here. Slowly he regained control of himself. He wiped his face with his sleeve, turned around and dropped himself back into the chair. It creaked.

"I'm sorry..." He wanted to say something. He wanted to apologize for everything. But he didn't know where to start. He wanted to ask questions, but he also didn't know where to start.

"What did he die from?" Irrelevant, but also nice and practical.