Bill returned to Oswy street that night covered in soot. It was always that way. Lottie would have a bath and after that a hot meal ready for him. She washed his work clothes separately from the rest every week, because they'd turn the water black. It was a pain for her, he knew, but every job came with downsides, and at least the pay was good. She should come and shovel all that coal sometime, with that fire burning hot in her face, having to pay attention constantly to the fire, their locations, and the instructions of the driver. She should feel as sore and tired while she still had to push her legs up to Oswy street in the evening. Then she'd know just how much he had earned that bath and meal, and a clean house and clean clothes without complaints.

He closed the door behind him, crossed the hall, turned into the kitchen, and stopped in his tracks...