"Hmm..."

She had all day. Lottie was definitely going to meet her. And so was Kate, at this rate. Possibly even Joe and Ruth would. His brain was too numb to think of how to solve it.

She had all day... He told her not to come to Whitby and she had not just shown up anyway, but was planning to stay all day. Maybe longer...

But he wasn't angry. He was ashamed. It was easier to be rude and tell her to stay away in writing than it was in person, and now that he was in her presence, he felt rather embarrassed about his reply to her letter.

The water boiled and he put tea in the pot and filled it up. Then he reached out to grab two of the special cups for when they had visitors, changed his mind - perhaps he could get her to leave before Lottie came back, but there'd be questions if the good cups had been used - and took two ordinary cups instead. He filled them up. Put the pot down. Sat down. Pushed one cup towards her. Nothing left to focus his attention on rather than her...

He looked at her sheepishly.

"So how..." he stopped. How have you been? These thirty years or so? What a question.

"How's our father?" Our father. Not the familiar 'dad'. He hadn't even dared take it into his mouth when he had returned for the reformatory. It hadn't seemed appropriate. He had been a young man and a stranger to them. The boy and son had been annihilated. It would feel even more inappropriate now, after all these years.