Bill's flippant attitude made Lottie snap.

"William Patrick Blacke! How dare you!" she shouted using his middle name. "You sit on yer fat arse drinkin' a beer and expect to be waited on like a king! What do ye think I am? A bloody slave?!!" her anger might have been heard down Osway Street, but she didn't care. No one seemed to care about Lottie, evidently not her children, not her husband either.

"Like ye said, if yer hungry, there's the chippy; if ye want a wash, there's a pump at the end of the street!" She used a strong arm to sweep whatever was on the table off it in a rage and threw her apron at him for good measure before storming upstairs. A door slammed, emphatically ending the conversation for the moment.