The way the policeman kept using his first name felt odd to him. When he had dealt with the police before regarding John and Joe, they had called him Mr. Blacke, when he had been a boy in custody they had called him all sort of names but his name, and once he was in prison and in the reform school, he had listened to a number. But he didn't mind this personal approach. It was certainly better than a number and he liked the policeman.

"I'm glad to 'ear it," he muttered. Even before he had been arrested as a boy, he and his friends had considered the police the enemy, and they had sometimes thrown rocks at them or pulled pranks. Part of it had been a boyish hunger for adventure and looking brave in the eyes of their peers. But it had been fed by a sense that the police was already prejudiced against them and eager to beat them down.

The question about his children embarrassed him and he stopped eating. Of course the policeman had seen John's file! It had to be hard to miss what with how thick it probably was. And then Joe had spent a night in a cell recently too. Now Bill. It was a good thing this new sergeant wanted to give people the benefit of the doubt, because he suddenly felt like his family was building up a 'Longbottom' kind of reputation.

He sat back a little and sighed. "I suppose ye've seen our John's file? I swear, we tried our best with 'im. Well, I'm glad to say t' army seems to 'ave knocked t' sense into 'im at last. If it wasn't for Crane, PC Crane I mean, 'e'd have been in prison, and probably come out worse. But 'e seems to want to make summat of 'is life now. Our Joe, ah, 'e's eighteen and 'e's quicker to make his decisions than 'e's smart, ye know what I mean? And our Ruth... His gaze darkened. He glared down at the chips. "T' man I hit, 'e seduced 'er and then treated 'er badly. I wish there was a law that'd stop men from bein' arseholes. That'd be a lot better than lockin' up poor people for petty theft, or beatin' lads for mischief."