Bill had the weekend off and had spent the afternoon watching a football match between Whitby and Scarborough. He was in a good mood. Whitby had won. By the time he stepped through the front door he was even happier because he was carrying a warm paper package with the undeniable smell of fish and chips. Lottie had told him she would visit friends in the Crag and Kate would come too. He’d have to arrange his own tea. Bill had no problems with that. Chippy it was. What a Saturday!
 
The house was quiet when he entered. He assumed Joe and Pearl were out too. He barely saw them these days. Probably a good thing. Though things had calmed down and Bill had accepted that there was no way back, it still disturbed him to see the two and have to wrap his head around the fact that they were husband and wife. All he saw was two children. Two stupid, naïve children at that.
 
Bill set his wrapped meal on the table and then greeted the empty house as he always did: by bursting into loud song – the neighbours would never get a break. It was a Tyneside song he used to sing to the children when they were little, especially when they’d have fish and chips. Still in song and entirely unaware of his audience, Bill rummaged through the cupboards, looking for a beer to accompany his meal.

She was asleep in the area that she and Joe shared for the moment. It seemed that she was awfully tired that day, but she had been working to help keep the household in order to free up some of her mother in law's time so she could focus on other things. The sound of music penetrated into her sleepy mind and her eyes fluttered open before she sighed and stretched. She pulled her frock back over her underthings, making herself right, before quietly walking toward the muffled sound of a male voice.

She peaked into the kitchen and then gave pause. Oh shit, she thought when she caught sight of the older man. She turned on heel, but the floor creaked under her weight more loudly than she had hoped any would. She winced. Maybe he wouldn't notice her, she thought as she started to try and get back out of sight before being spotted.

“Thou shalt have a fishy on a little dishy. Thou shalt have a…” Bill’s loud voice instantly halted when a floorboard creaked and he spun round, beer in hand. Well, this was embarrassing. “Joe?” He called out as he made his way to the entrance of the kitchen and popped his head around the corner. “Oh…” It was Joe’s young wife tip-toeing up the stairs.

He hadn’t seen much off the girl since she had Joe had returned from their little Gretna Green adventure, partly because Bill was frequently away for work during tea, and partly because the girl seemed fond of hiding. “Where’s Joe?”

When the old man didn't sound angry, she gave pause. Then she kind of gave a shy look his way, biting her lip for a moment and turning once more to face him. "He's at work," she said at last. "He should be back this evening." She looked back upstairs for a moment, and then asked, "Would you like for me to cook for you, sir? Or would you like some tea?" And then she gave another pause and tilted her head toward him, deciding it would be better just to... be brave? How else would she earn respect? She bit her tongue to keep from blathering like an idiot, and but she did offer a slight smile.

The girl looked uncomfortable. Bill suspected that the reason she liked to hide was that she did not like her in-laws' company. Joe perhaps was just good enough for her, but not the rest of them.

Joe was still out, she said. He hadn’t said that Pearl would be home for tea. “Useless boy…” Bill muttered. Though really maybe Joe had only told Lottie because Bill still grumbled at anything his son uttered. He might have come to accept the new situation as reality, but that didn’t mean he had forgiven the lad.

“Cook fer me?” he asked, surprised. Did she even know how to cook? Did rich folk not have servants to do that for them? “Nah, lass, I’ve got fish and chips. Come sit ‘ere and share if ye can stand that kind of food, and we'll fetch more later. And don’t ye sir me. It’s Bill if ye won’t call me da'.” And with that Bill went back into the kitchen and looked for a bottle opener, leaving it to the girl to decide whether she would do as he told her.

When she saw the surprise in his eyes regarding cooking, her smile widened. "It would have been no trouble, da," she said, choosing to go for that over Bill since, well, it was a new word. "I honestly love to bake especially; Joe is fond of my fruit tarts. Oh dear," she stopped talking as she moved to sit down. She was so nervous to talk about things since she was a very yappy person normally. She could not help but to have that chipper personality no matter her situation. "I'll try and keep my tongue from wagging too much... My mother has said I talk way more than a lady should."

"But you do have a lovely voice," she blurted out, "It's rather joyous." It was honestly said, and her eyes were earnest when she spoke to him.

The smell of the food caught her attention. It was delicious smelling, though something about it roiled her stomach just a little bit. She blamed it on the fact that she wasn't feeling well. And even though she visibly paled for a moment, she seemed to be alright otherwise. She was still ignorant to the fact that she was already pregnant, but that was a story for another week to be revealed to all, however... the signs were there and he, being an experienced father, might be able to spot some of the signs easily enough to suspect she was breeding.

Bill was an experienced father, yes, but he was also often oblivious, and he did not notice his young daughter-in-law's short sickness. He was busy looking for that bottle opener anyway and a little flattered by the compliment. "I used to sing that song for yer Joe, ye know? Anyway, I don't know owt about lady manners, lass, but I reckon ye needn't worry about them anymore now. There!" he added when he opened another drawer and found what he was looking for. He opened the bottle and sat down. Then he began to unwrap the food. "If ye have sum't to say, I don't see why ye would need to bite yer tongue, unless it's unkind. There we go. Oh, ye might want a fork." He got up again and began looking for forks. "Anyway, ye 'ave a pleasant voice yerself, but we 'aven't 'eard much of it in this 'ouse."

He was being kind to her. She wasn't sure how to speak or what to do at first. She sent a gaze his way and studied him for a moment. Then she smiled and looked down as he began to unwrap the fish. The smell got to her a little more. She tried to ignore it as she watched him wander off to a drawer to fetch what he was seeking. She would eat it anyway. When he mentioned she was a quiet source, she looked down at the table. "I'll come out more if you wish then, da," she said tentatively, and then began to relax some, the tension visibly easing from her regardless if he caught it happening or not.

She folded her hands in her lap and was silent for maybe a few minutes before she said, "Joe is a good lad." And that was all. Her smile was soft and her eyes lit up at his name on her own lips. "It's too bad he is missing out, yes?" She grinned, referring to the food he was about to share. She would just have to save some of the flavor for a kiss. She nearly snickered out loud for that thought, for she sometimes wanted to play pranks on her husband just to keep him on his toes. She hadn't done it yet, but she would.

It felt odd, being called ‘da’ by this almost stranger, even if that was what he had requested. Not in a bad way. In a way he felt pleased. From their short interaction, he had already understood that he had misjudged her previous actions. Her hiding and silence seemed the result of timidity, rather than snobbery. Indeed, she behaved very civilly, in a genuine sort of way, kindly. Although they were born worlds apart, she might in time come to feel like a real daughter to him, and the word and the warmth it evoked held that promise.

Didn’t mean he was done grumbling at Joe…

When he had found the forks and had handed her one, he sat down and began to eat. When she spoke again, he paused for a moment and looked down at the food gravely, not responding to her next, lighter comment. “Aye, ‘e’s a good lad…” he said slowly. “But ‘e’s rash and doesn’t use ‘is ‘ead when ‘e should. ‘E should ‘ave done right by ye. And I’m sorry ‘e didn’t.”

She was quiet while she tried the fish, not sure how to say what needed to be said. How could she at least help them understand why it happened? She chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed. The fish was delightful. She then picked at a chip, holding it aloft with the fork and looking at it as if to study. For a moment, the cook in her, the one who delighted in creating things in the kitchen, seemed to analyze the things. Finally, she tried the chip. It was so delicious.

She would learn to make this as a meal one day, she resolved.

"I am not sure how to put this in a way that doesn't cause tension, so please forgive me for my bluntness... But from his perspective, he was trying to do what he thought was right at the time." She leveled her gaze upon Bill and tilted her head, brow puckering as she seemed to remember the terrible things that had happened to lead up to the moment they left for Scotland. "From my perspective, he was heroic. He was being selfless, putting everything at risk on my behalf... his reputation, his honor, everything. He lost his job because of me. He had to have learned to love by good people. You might all yell at each other, but I've never seen love so fiercely demonstrated until I met your son, so you must have done something right. Someone who is willing to make a scandal to rescue a fair maiden from the dragons, that is one of the most honorable things I have ever seen no matter how rash it was. I owe him my life, Da." And she had such raw and honest emotion in her voice. In truth, Pearl was so very grateful to be away from Carrington house that they simply just didn't know.

She finished off with, "It's just as much my fault this happened, if not more."