Abner put his hand to his mouth. His lip was bleeding again. He pulled himself together. ‘You’re boozed,’ he said. ‘Get on upstairs!’ He tried to lead his father to the door, but John Fellows was not to be put off. ‘Boozed!’ he said, ‘and what would drive a man to booze worse nor a bad wife? No, yo’ don’t get out of it like that. What’ve you done to ’er?’
‘I never touched her,’ said Abner.
‘Never touch ’er, an’ give her joolry!’ Fellows scoffed. ‘Maybe I’m boozed, but I’m not too boozed to put you to rights.’ He launched a savage blow at Abner’s face, and encouraged by the fact that Abner did not return it, followed it up with another. Alice, crying ‘Oh!’ ran to the door. ‘Stay where yo’ are!’ Abner shouted. John Fellows closed with him, lashing out viciously. He had been something of a boxer in his day, and his attack was so violent that Abner found it difficult to defend himself. Fellows fought like a tiger cat, with boots and finger-nails and teeth. His bloodshot eyes were fixed on Abner’s throat. It was as if all the suppressed malice of seven years had been suddenly released. Then, suddenly, he dropped Abner and flew at the frightened Alice. Abner stopped him with a blow under the right ear. He crumpled up and fell on the floor like a sack.
‘Abner . . . you’ve done him in!’ Alice cried.
He fell to his knees and listened for his father’s heart. The impulse still fluttered there. ‘No . . . he’s only stunned. I reckon he’ll wake up sober,’ he said. Alice stood trembling and sobbing in short gasps: a strange, mechanical noise. Abner remained bent over his father’s body in silence.
‘Johnnie’s crying . . . bless his little ’eart!’ she said. He took no notice of her. ‘Put the rug over ’im. Leave him here till ’e comes to.’
‘Abner, ’e spoke something awful! ’E said you’n me had been going together while he was away. ’E took up this brooch. . . . A thing like that!’
‘I don’t want to ’ear what he said.’
‘’E said our John wasn’t his child . . . said I’d always been rotten bad. . .’
John Fellows gave a groan.