Tom laughed at Lory's angre, but his mother shouted over the noisy room: "Simon Ward! Yer gonna make 'er catch a cold!" But that concern had clearly been overlooked by aunt Mary.

Simon was quick to strip and change as soon as he got upstairs. He was chilled to the bone. "There's the fisherman's life for ye," he responded to his cousin. "Jesus Christ." He had gotten into the habit of swearing lately, because he loved the thrill of knowing it was a terrible thing and doing it anyway. He did it quietly enough not to be heard downstairs though. "I swear I'll be on me way to the Teeside before the weather clears up enough to go back out there. Stuff fishing."

"E's been sayin' that for over a year now, and e's still 'ere," commented Tom as he appeared through the trap door. "When are ye gonna tell -," Simon's wet sock hit him in the face.

The noise of the howling wind increased all of a sudden and turned quiet again, indicating that the door had been opened and closed.

"Why, Amy, ye shouldn't 'ave come out in weather like this," came Hannah's voice. Tom stopped with his guernsey still on his arms and turned to face the trap door.

"Sorry, Mrs. Ward," came a pleasant girl's voice. "I just wanted to make sure Tom - all yer men returned safely."

Simon turned to Luke quietly, brought his fingertips together, and then brought both hands together repeatedly to imitate two kissing faces.