Bill was about to continue shouting even though he didn't know what he was going to say yet, when Lottie showed her own frustration with Joe. He let go of the boy's ear and instead poked his finger in Joe's chest. "You don't talk to us that way, ye hear me!? Ye've given us enough trouble as it is!"

By the time all was said and done, she stood several feet from the stoop. That was when a sudden apprehension came over her. She was about to turn around when she felt strong arms clamp around her from behind. She gave a cry of surprise and fear, only for it to be cut short by a hand on her mouth. Luckily for her, it had made enough sound that they might hear it in the house, but it was short lived. The next thing she knew, she was being dumped in a carriage and the door was slammed shut. The carriage belonged to the Carringtons started to clatter away.

"Dear sister, allow me to congratulate you on your nuptials. I knew you'd show up eventually," said the voice of her second eldest brother in his feminine sounding tones. His prolonged "s" was almost snakelike. God, how she hated that prolonged "s." Her eyes narrowed at him as she pushed herself up.

"What do you want?"

"Why, to take you home, sister." And that was all he said before he brought the head of his cane crashing down against her skull. And then the world was dark.

"Little bitch," he muttered, his voice echoing yet dimming away as she lay crumpled on the floor of the carriage.

[CW: swearing]

Joe's cheek still stung from the strike of his mother's palm. He braced himself for another and words about disgracing good, hardworking, decent folk - a woman's panicked shriek tore across the evening air.

Shite! Where was Pearl? she had stepped away a moment ago. Joe's eye's went wide as he looked to his parents for answer. Finding none, he bolted for the front step.

Bill suddenly turned his eyes away from Joe and listened. Had he heard a shriek? Oswy street was not some of the yards and lanes in the town center by night, but he did suddenly think of that poor lass standing outside all by herself. He sprinted after Joe, but stopped in the street when he saw the carriage rolling away. He looked around. No sign of Miss Pearl anywhere. He put his hands on his head. "S'ppose they've come for her..." Common street thugs certainly didn't own carriages.

Lottie was about to continue her tirade telling her wayward son just how low he had fallen in the pecking order of favourites among her children. She was also giving serious consideration to whacking her offspring with her rolling pin - he certainly was behaving with as much sense as a shapeless mass of dough but - that scream! Lottie's breath caught in her throat, her eyes wide with alarm. As the men of the house dashed for the front door, Lottie hugged the doorframe for protection.

[CW: language]

Joe tumbled out of the front door onto the street, his bots sliding on the cobbles, a mass of arms and legs desperate for speed.

"Hey!" he bellowed. It was a loud practiced roar, for a timid voice would not have been heard over the din of engines at the station. It probably attracted more than a few peeking eyes behind curtains. The carriage had too much of a head start. He slowed to a defeated stop a short distance away.

"Fuck it!" he screamed. He didn't care that the cool evening air of Osway Street was thick with blue.

"Have they?" Joe shouted back at his father, his tone a mixture of disbelief, rage, fear, and incredulity. "Well then, they should've stopped in fer a cup! Polite like." Joe's words were thick with sarcasm and disrespect. "They've taken me fuckin' wife! Don't start!"

Right now if his father was offended enough and wanted a brawl in the street, Joe was all too happy to oblige.

"Well what did you think would happen?" said Bill. He had followed Joe at a slower pace and stopped when the boy came walking back. "You took their daughter. Ruined her. Did you think they were gonna sit back and wish you two well? And keep that filth off your tongue."

[CW: Language]

Joe's fists curled into hard balls. He hadn't ruined her, he'd been protecting her. She had said so. His father's words incensed him. Who the fuck was he to be giving moral advice? William Blacke's virtues of being a solid provider and pleasant memories of father and son impromptu games of tin cricket in the Cragg were forgotten for the moment. They did not fit the narrative in currently playing in Joe's head. His father was an old man, out of touch with what it meant to be in love. He was cruel - Joe only had to recall that night in the cells - , and a coward who ran away when things got the slightest bit difficult.

"Ruined er 'ave I? At least, I'm willin' to fight fer me wife! You? Yer a joke! Off fer a pint the moment things get 'ard! Yer no Prince Albert!" Joe hissed, invoking the marital bliss of the most popular couple in England.

Eyes went wide, nostils flared, and then he swung his fist at Joe's face. He was a good husband.

It took Joe's young brain precious seconds to register that his own father was swinging his fist to smack him. His eyes went a little wide in shock and he turned his cheek. The fist connected rather smartly and pain exploded across his face. The force of the blow knocked his whole body sideways. Joe had regrettably forgotten how powerful his father's hands were from years of shovelling coal.