Lizzie (aloud, to herself) Ah, but these clouds. Always on a washday. How are you to get anything dry? Great heavy clouds. (Quiet.) It’ll rain and wash us all away … (Shaking her head.) A foolish thought in an idle brain.

Minnie Gascoigne suddenly gasps and goes to pick up her coat and hat.

Mrs Gascoigne Minnie. Wheer are ter goin?

Minnie I’ve forgotten the treacle. Luther’ll want some treacle with his pudding.

Mrs Gascoigne Goin’ out now? Ee. So when he gets a back from pit, he’ll find s’wife gone and absent? A fine state of affairs for a newly married man t’ come whoam to.

Minnie If they get here before I’m back, give them the stew. I’ll not be long.

Mrs Gascoigne Yi. I’ll mek sure they’re fed.

A fine state of affairs.

Lizzie spreads the shirt out in front of the fire.

Lizzie (aloud, to herself) You know they’re not dry even now.

Mrs Gascoigne serves her stew into a china bowl as her youngest son, Joe, enters. He takes off his cap. His arm is in a sling.

Joe Where’s Minnie?

Mrs Gascoigne Off gettin’ treacle for our Luther. We’ll not wait for her. Tha’s niver bin a’ this while at th’ office.

Joe They kep’ me ower an hour, an’ then gen me nowt.

Mrs Gascoigne Gen thee nowt! Why, how do they ma’e that out? It’s a wik sin’ tha go hurt, an’ if a man wi’ a broken arm canna ha’ his fourteen shillin’ a week accident pay, who can, I s’d like to know?

Joe They reckon I niver got it while I wor at work.

Mrs Gascoigne Then where did ter get it, might I ax?

Joe I wor foolin’ wi’ a wringer an’ a pick-heft.

Mrs Gascoigne An’ tha reported it as a accident?

Joe It wor accident, worn’t it? I niver did it a’purpose.

Mrs Gascoigne But tha didna tell ’em how it happened.

Joe I said some stuff fell on my arm, broke it, an now I canna work. An’ worna that trew?

Mrs Gascoigne It wor very likely trew enough, lad, if on’y they’d ha’ believed it. Tha’s done thysen one i’ th’ eye this time. When dost think tha’ll iver get ter be a butty, at this rate?

Joe I’d as rather be a day man as a butty i’ pits that rat-gnawed there’s hardly a stall worth havin’; an’ a company as ’ud like yer ter scrape yer tabs afore you went home, for fear you took a grain o’ coal.

Mrs Gascoigne Maybe – but tha’s got ter get thy livin’ by ’em.

Joe I hanna. I s’ll go to Australia.

Mrs Gascoigne Tha’lt do no such thing, while I’m o’ this earth.

Joe Ah, but though, I shall – else get married, like our Luther.

Mrs Gascoigne A fat sight better off tha’lt be for that.

Joe You niver know, Mother, dun yer?

Mrs Gascoigne You dunna, me lad – not till yer find yerself let in. Marriage is like a mousetrap, for either man or woman. You’ve soon come to th’ end o’ th’ cheese.

Joe Well, ha’ef a loaf’s better nor no bread. Besides, we s’ll be out on strike afore we know wheer we are.

Mrs Gascoigne I’m sure. You’ve on’y bin in –

Joe Now, Mother, spit on thy hands an’ ta’e fresh hold. We s’ll be out on strike in a wik or a fortnit –

Mrs Gascoigne Strike’s a’ they’re fit for – a pack o’ slutherers!

Lydia Lambert looks up at the noise of her outer door opening and closing. A moment later, her daughter Nellie enters the kitchen. After glancing at the table, she crosses the room, drops her two exercise books on the wooden chair by the bookcase.

Nellie Oh! I am weary.

Lydia You are late.

Nellie I know I am.

Work was murder. I’m sure the youngsters have been regular demons.

Lydia I’ve no doubt they felt the same towards you, poor little wretches.

Nellie (with a short laugh) I’ll bet they did, for I spanked one or two of ’em well.

Lydia Trust you, trust you! You’ll be getting the mothers if you’re not careful.

Nellie Is there only potted meat? You know I can’t bear it.

Lydia (conciliatorily) Why, I thought you’d like it, a raw day like this – and with toast.

Nellie You know I don’t. Why didn’t you get some fruit? – a little tin of apricots –

Lydia I thought you’d be sick of apricots – I know Ernest is.

Nellie Well, I’m not – you know I’m not. Pappy potted meat!

Mrs Gascoigne has cut up Joe’s meat.

Mrs Gascoigne It’s a rum un as I should start ha’in’ babies again, an’ feedin’ ’em wi’ spoon-meat.

Lizzie Holroyd is looking off into the distance.

Lizzie (calling) Jack? I don’t want you playing down by the tracks again.

Lydia pours out two cups of tea, and replaces the pot on the hob.

Lydia Won’t you have some, then?

Nellie (petulantly) No, I don’t want it.

Lizzie Jack?

In the Lambert kitchen, Nellie glances up at the sound of the opening of a tin.

Nellie Have you fetched some? Apricots? Oh, you are a sweetling!

Lydia Polly Goddard says her young man got hurt in the pit this morning.

Nellie Oh – is it much? (She looks up from her book.)

Lydia One of his feet crushed. Poor Polly’s very sad. What made her tell me was Ben Goddard going by. I didn’t know he was at work again, but he was just coming home, and I asked her about him, and then she went on to tell me of her young man. I expect your Father won’t be long.

Gertie Coomber goes across the village towards the Lambert cottage.

After a moment she enters the kitchen, moves immediately to the sofa and sits down.

Gertie Hello, my duck, and how are you?

Nellie (looking up) Oh, alright, my bird.

Lydia Evening, Gertie.

Gertie Hello, missus. Friday tonight … Ooh, are those apricots?

Later on, can we go jinking off up town and wink at the boys? I like market night.

Nellie You can wink! I’ll bet you’ll not catch me! You can go making a spectacle of yourself.

Gertie Oh, you’ll be looking out for your Eddie. Anyway, I don’t like to make a spectacle. I go like this: ’Oh, good evening, how are you? I’m sure I’m very pleased –’

Nellie You are a daft object! What about last week, when David...