‘How old was she?’
‘Somewhere about the same as you, I reckon.’
‘And two children?’
‘No, only one kid.’
‘How long was he . . . I mean your father . . . in hospital?’
‘Pretty nigh six month.’
‘And you had to keep the house going?’
‘Of course I had. There wasn’t nought coming in except his club, and that bain’t nothing to speak on.’
‘Six months . . .’ She stared into the fire, and there was a long silence. ‘It’s funny, isn’t it?’ she said at last, without raising her eyes. ‘Funny how things turn out?’
‘Yes, it’s a rum go.’