Lottie's heavy heart was touched by the kindness of her children. She smiled weakly at both of them in turn, silently accepting the spoon and placing it in her lap and patting her son's hand.

"Come on Kate, you and I'll make some tea." Joe said to his sister

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.

At the sound of her of name, Lottie looked up from the her mending over the mound of cloth just long enough to recognise whomever it was.

"Oh. It's ye." She said dismissively of the new arrival before immediately resuming her mending. "Are ye finished ye shoutin? or do ye 'ave more t' say?" she asked pointedly without looking up from her work.

Bill fidgeted with his cap. "I was wrong to shout at ye. I'm sorry."

"What about Joe? Ye sorry fer shoutin' at 'im?"

That made Bill frown. "He just spent a night in a police cell. Ye can't blame me for shoutin' at him."

"I suppose yer right." Lottie replied, softening ever so. Still, she couldn't ignore that her Bill had changed, a far cry from the muscular, roguish, yet quiet fireman who had saved her life all those years ago. A man who smiled at the laugh of his son.. but she couldn't live in the past.

"Want some tea?" she asked tiredly.

Bill was relieved. "Aye... please," he said and he moved towards the table and sat down. He pulled his hands across his face for a moment. "I'll talk to 'im. Talk, not shout," he promised. 

He watched her prepare tea. She looked tired. They both were. He wished he could say something to her to make her feel better. They weren't happy. And what with John gone, causing them so much anxiety. And Ruth... Selfish girl. Did she know what pain she was causing to her mother? And now today Joe in the dock...

He wanted to say something to her that would make it alright. But he didn't know what to say to her. He hadn't known for years. And so not saying anything had become the habit, and all he said was "Thank you", when she handed him the tea. 

When he had finished, he went to Joe's room, knocked, and opened the door.

Joe had been resting on the bed, after the excitement of the last day or so, he was drained. At the knock rolled over onto his back and pushed himself up to rest on his elbows. He bade whomever knocked enter, and was slightly dismayed that it was his father.