As promised the police sergeant had let him go early in the morning, so that he would have time to get ready for work. And Bill hoped, early enough to avoid Lottie. He'd show up at work early just to get out of the house before she woke up. He could explain himself tonight.

Or so Bill thought. He opened the front door as quietly as he could, and turned around once he was inside, so that, with drawn up shoulders and lips pressed together, he could close the door very carefully... very quietly...

But Lottie was there. She was not the foolish young fisher lass rescused from the railway tracks all those years ago. She was older. Wiser. Angrier

"Hello, William dear. Have a grand night out, did ye?" Her voice was soft, sweet, light, and ready to explode. Her eyes were a hard stare, her posture stiff as a railway nail. "I'd choose yer next words very carefully."

William. Oh God...

Bill turned around slowly. He wanted tell her to just leave him alone. Pick a fight with someone else. They'd talk after work. But then he saw her. Her words expressed the same sentiment as her body language.

"'t Was that Angus McLeod feller, Lottie. I punched 'im. Of course I did."

"Kitchen. Now." Lottie ordered. She pointed with her hand, the other holding a small lamp that cast a tiny pool of warm white light on her flowing red hair and cheap nightdress. Assuming compliance with her order, she followed her husband and closed the door behind her. No sense in waking the entire house.. yet.

"Sit." Another command. Right.

"William Patrick Blacke. Ye are a feckin' disgrace.. fallin' back on yer criminal past I see - No, I'm not finished yet.. I know ye fought Angus McCloed, the Sargeant told me yesterday," Lottie snarled. She circled the outskirts of the room like some sort of wild animal cornering its prey. She pounced. It was just unfortunate that it was her husband. Still he signed up for this when he married her.

"Yer a grown bloody man near 50 year old... Ye should know better. brawlin' in the street. Joe or John I'd expect this from, but ye.." Lottie roared, veering away from her husband. Everyone was up now. Probably most of Osway Street heard too "Yer all brainless kids' tryin' ta prove whose tougher or whose got the biggest prick!" She thundered. Spitle flew from her mouth.

"Fer Gawd's sake is there not a man in this family who isn't a complete feckin' idiot!?" She raged, unleashing her fury on her husband. "First Joe, then ye.. I gaurentee whatever John does'll land him on the front bloody page of the gazette. When will ye pillicocks stop and think about us!? Me and Pearl and Kate and Ruth. Ye stupid, selfish, bastards. All of ye."

Bill was smart enough to do as he was told. He went into the kitchen and sat down. Better to let Lottie rage. She'd calm down in the end.

But she said the wrong thing right away. It was a knife in the back, a breech of an agreed upon taboo. And not only did she recall it, she identified him with it. The children might hear too, if she kept going like that. Instantly, that rage that always lurked somewhere inside of him, flared up and he opened his mouth.

But Lottie snapped that she wasn't done yet. It stopped him. But not for long. Her anger only fed his own. He rose while she was speaking. His face turned increasingly red, almost purple. His hands turned to fists by his side. Only the fear that he would give in to the urge to attack her restrained him somewhat. "TAKE A FECKIN' BREAK, LOTTIE!" He roared back at her, eyes nearly popping out of his head. Apparently waking Osway street alone wasn't enough. "I did what I did! Any father would 'ave! Now let it go for feck's sake! And don't you ever," he poked a strong finger into her shoulder, "bring that up again! I swear to God, woman..."

Anne was already awake staring up at the ceiling when she heard the front door open and close. That had to be Mr. Blacke returning. Mrs. Blacke had seemed so vexed last night that Anne had not dared to ask her if she could go out to check in on Alice. She had considered sneaking out, but had feared that Mrs. Blacke would be so angry if she found out, that Anne would no longer be welcome. But her worry, and the events of the previous day in general had played through her head endlessly: while she lay awake for hours, trying to sleep; while she slept lightly and restlessly at last; when she woke up and lay awake once again.

Kate meanwhile, was snoring away soundly, until... There was shouting downstairs and Anne watched her friend sit up startled. The girls looked at each other in the dim light that managed to come round the curtains. Then Kate slipped out of bed, tiptoed to the door and opened it an inch or two to listen. Anne slipped out of bed as well and moved to stand behind her friend, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

John had gotten up and left the Inn early. Had enjoyed a couple of pints after seeing pippa home and then went to bed. The Inn wasn't the comfiest sleep but it was better than sleeping under canvas like he had in India.

He'd grabbed his stuff after getting dressed and had decided to return home to get changed before meeting pippa or going to see his sister. He'd slipped on his jacket and had checked out. Made his way out of the street from the Inn and home to the back streets of osway Street. He wouldn't use the front door. Nope that was for distinguished guests to the house......normally in serge wool tunics and domed hats from what John remembered of his childhood.

He made his way down the back street and turned the gate leading to the back pathway to the kitchen. He'd been half asleep and not paying much attention to what was happening around him and was dying for a cup of tea. He'd walked into the kitchen completely oblivious to what was happening and began filling the kettle before putting it onto boil. He turned round to see his parents standing in the kitchen. His father had obviously been sat in the bollocking chair that everyone had stood trial on at some point by their mother including Kate. He simply replied "tea?" As an open question

The snarled threat from her husband and the poke of his finger into her shoulder enraged her. How dare he touch her with menence. What right had he to be mad? He was the one who had been locked up. Was she not allowed to make her feelings known? Her strong palm was widening to strike him. Bill could use a good slap.

But, the arrival of her son and the innocence of his question, saved his father, snapping the anger inside her for a moment.

"No thank ye John. Yer father has to leave for work." Lottie flashed a look of contempt at her husband. The same look she used when the loo was backed up "don't ye, dear?"

Lottie's raised hand was met by a raised arm from Bill to block her. Then John's voice distracted him and Bill's red head snapped in his direction.

Did he do that on purpose?! Bill's rage had hardly softened. Now he was angry with his wife for humiliating him in front of their son too, raising her bloody hand like that. He would have her and John know that he was the man of this house and he was in charge! Lottie couldn't just slap him! Nor could she scold him like he was a child! He was in charge, damn it! And he was angry with John for appearing at that moment like he had planned it! Like he was out to catch his father in a humiliating position!

"Aye, I was trying to!" He shouted back at his wife. "So why don't ye let me prepare, ey?" He looked over at the chair where his work clothes were usually hung over the back on mornings when he had to work - like by magic. They weren't there. He looked at Lottie accusingly. He wasn't going to beg.

Lottie looked at her husband as he complained. "Away with ye then!" she said dismissively.  She would slap him later.  She spied him looking at the empty chair where his clothes would have been had he not been the village idiot and been detained at Her Magesties' Pleasure last evening. "Upstairs. Surely ye've 'eard of a wardrobe?"