Bill played with his trains until the late afternoon and then came home, face and hands black with soot, sweaty and smelly, but also in a very good mood. He had the weekend off and that meant going to the pub tonight and sleeping in tomorrow. Things seemed to have calmed down in the Blacke household and Bill was looking forward to a wonderfully relaxing weekend. He felt great and was sure nothing could spoil his mood.

He took off his boots outside, went straight into the kitchen and kissed Lottie's cheek just because he was so cheerful. "No tea ready... Are we pickin' sum't up from the chippy?" Another contribution to a great evening.

Her husband's cheery mood grated Lottie's nerves like soap on a washboard.

"From the chippy!!? Your son, my Joe, he's got cod n' chips fer brains I tell you! Did ye know, he's courtin' a Carrington girl? The one he told us about from the station? P- Pearl." She barreled on "And Annie Ward said she saw the two o' them dancin' at her sister's weddin' too." But she wasn't finished yet. "And a reporter from the gazette was just 'ere. He said the two of them were present the night that Carrington lad shot himself at the whore 'ouse and that Joe walked her home!" Her fists were clenched, her nails white. "Where is that boy? I'll batter him so, they'll be able to serve him at the chippy!"

Bill sat down. "What?" he said like the wonderfully supportive husband he was.

"Is that all you have to say William Blacke? You mean he didn't mention anything to you over a pint?"

Bill was still taking it all in, at his own post-workday pace. "Bloody hell, Lottie. As if 'e talks to me at all. So... 'e lied to us about what happened at the station." He cursed. Then he cursed again. "And involved in that Carrington business." If Lottie wouldn't batter the lad, Bill would. Was he trying to outdo Ruth in troublemaking? For he was certainly well on the way. "Jesus, this is bad."

"Oh William! First Ruth, now Joe. Where did we go wrong? Next you'll tell me little Katie wants ta run away to the musical 'all and John's married a hin-du."

John was already a lost cause in Bill's eyes, but he wisely kept that opinion to himself. He did wonder where they had gone wrong. Bill had been strict with his children. Always making sure they chose the right path and knew there were consequences when they didn't. It had worked while they were younger, but John had become rude and rebelious. Ruth had eloped, and now Joe was working himself into trouble as well.

"Well, we'll see what he has to say for himself when he gets home," he said grimly. "The Whitby Gazette. Bloody hell. I'll skin t' lad."

"Speakin' o Joe. Where is he? I thought he was out lookin' fer work. Oh no." Lottie leapt from her seat and hurried upstairs. His clothes hung neatly in the wardrobe, a suitcase still gathering dust under the bed. Panic averted. She came back downstairs to rejoin her husband. If he was trying to run off with this Pearl surely he would take a suitcase?

"Did ye see him at work?" She asked. Joe knew the trains, so he might have been at his former workplace.

Bill raised an eyebrow when Lottie ran upstairs. Surely, she didn't think Joe would just run off like Ruth had done. Joe wouldn't do that.

By the time Lottie got back, Bill was rummaging through the cupboards looking for beer. "No, I doubt he'd come back there after he was sacked. The Carrington lad's there." He had wanted to tell Lottie about the little scene he had witnessed at the station. But suddenly it didn't seem so funny anymore. "Do we have any beer left?"

"I think there's a bottle of Timothy Taylor's in the back somewhere." Lottie said tiredly