‘Go straight upstairs, Gladys,’ she called.
‘It’s dad, mam. I give him Abner’s note.’
‘Go upstairs as I tell you!’
Gladys’s mouth fell. ‘Why, mam?’ she faltered.
George pulled a chair toward him and flopped into it. ‘You be said!’ he shouted.
The child ran upstairs, frightened. George sat on, his eyes staring savagely at her out of his sunken orbits.
‘Well, Mary,’ he said at last. ‘This is a bloody fine game!’
She could not speak for her increasing terror. She had never felt so frightened of him in her life. ‘He looks like a criminal,’ she thought.
‘Speak up,’ he said. ‘What’ve you got to say for yourself. What’s the meaning of this?’ He held out her note. ‘Tell him to keep away, would you? You dirty bitch!’
‘George,’ she said. ‘You mustn’t believe all people tell you. You know your mother’s against me!’