It was late in the afternoon when a very sheepish and subdued Bill returned home. He had walked around for a long time, as fast as he could, until the worst of the tension was out of his system. And then the shame had suddenly been overwhelming. He shouted at the children sometimes. He could feel frustrated with his wife. He would ignore her judgement or fail to involve her in a decision sometimes. But a decent man didn't shout at his wife, especially not with that kind of rage. And in front of his son too. He had sat on the East Cliff near St Martha's half the afternoon, staring out across the town and the sea, while the shame consumed him. He had to go back eventually.

So now he entered the home and took of his cap. He pushed the kitchen door open gently. "Lottie?" he tried, to see if she was there.