The passenger waited patiently to be served. She was of average stature clad in plain, yet immaculate, clothes that covered a formidable figure with round features, presently neutral. Jane's mind was preoccupied. Billy had said not to come to Whitby in his letter, and yet here she stood. Probably out of stubbornness; who was her little brother to tell her what to do?

"A pleasant trip, sir. Yes madam, can I help ye?" the ticket clerk said with barely a breath between customers.

"My brother, Billy - sorry William - works 'ere, on the railway. Is he on duty today? William Blacke's his name." It would be fun to see him in action doing his train business. He was never interested in those machines as a child. Funny how that all works out.

"Oh Bill. He's yer brother? Well, no. He's off today. Recovering from a double shift. He'll likely be at 'ome."

"And where would that be?" Jane asked "Bill didn't give me his latest address. Would you mind?"

"X Osway Street."

"Could you direct me please?"

Osway was a fair hike, but Jane didn't mind. She was made of tougher stuff; she had once clouted a drunken coal miner in need of stitches who had gotten grabby, and grappled with a lunatic having an episode in the ward. As she walked, her thoughts turned to family. What sort of man had her Billy become? Had he married someone decent or would she get on with the woman like a devil and prayer? Jane now had nieces and nephews, a delight for a woman without children of her own. She had missed their true youth, so what sort of people were they growing in to?