In two steps Harry was over there and grabbed Claude by the front of his collar. "And if you wouldn't waste time God knows where like your useless whore mother, you wouldn't have to get home late and be clever about it. Now shut your gob and lift that bloody cart." He let go. Sometimes Harry got so angry that all he wanted to do was crush Claude. "You're a poor excuse for a son... or a man."

The tears wanted to come, but he had learnt that lesson a long time ago and held them back. Claude lifted the cart once more, trying to keep the shakes out of his arms.

Harry put the wheel back on and applied the screws. "Lower it."

Claude put it gently on the ground.

There was a 'crack!' and suddenly the wheel fell and the whole cart collapsed to the side. Harry looked at it and then started swearing and cursing loudly, turning around and grabbing his hair, and still cursing.

Claude just stood there, eyes locked on the cart.

All day long he had dealt with frustration. And now this!? He turned to Claude, nostrils flaring. "Why'd you do that!?"

"..I...I...I..." Claude had no answer but refused to lift his eyes from the cart.

The sound of an uneven gait echoed off the floor, and Anita slouched against the nearby doorframe with a hand pressed over her forehead. What time was it?

Oh! Claude came back alive! Her favorite start to a day. Night? Seeing her children alive!

“You’re home,” she declared with a not-quite-right smile, squinting. “So good to see you home!”

Her gaze landed on Harry, and there was a motion of her lips like she was swishing something distasteful about.

“You too,” she added as cheerfully as she could muster. “I put some dinner on the stove.”

Was that today? Hopefully.

“Thank god, it's so good to see you home!” she repeated, though it almost seemed like she had just realized for the second time that Claude was indeed home.

And then she looked at her husband, and couldn't find the way to fumble the right words a second round.

Harry felt himself getting more and more worked up as Claude stammered. He had been angry for so long and Claude always had to give that last push. He took a step towards the boy, but when he heard the drunk rambling of his wife, he spun round. "Ye haven't done nowt for dinner, you stupid drunk cow!" He shouted at her. The children had been fed in the end. He had skipped a meal. And her own meal had consisted of a bottle of cheap wine.