A Man of his Time. Alan Sillitoe

neighbour.’

      ‘I’ll make sure he never lives this down,’ Oliver said.

      Edith took knives and forks from the drawer. ‘You’ve seen what that old fucker’s done?’

      ‘Don’t swear like that,’ Mary Ann said, ‘or I’ll make you wash your mouth out with soap. I won’t have that sort of talk in this house.’

      ‘I can’t help it. He wants blinding, except that it would be too good for him.’

      ‘And don’t talk like that about your father, or God will pay you out as well.’

      ‘If He paid me out for saying anything against Burton there wouldn’t be any God.’

      ‘It won’t change him,’ Oliver said. ‘I can’t think what will. He won’t even alter after he’s dead and gone.’

      Edith laughed. ‘Somebody ought to kill him. That’s what he deserves.’

      ‘He’s not worth hanging for,’ Oswald said.

      ‘Let’s get on with supper,’ Mary Ann told them, as if only eating would stop such talk. ‘He’ll be in directly, and if it’s not ready there’ll be hell to pay.’

      ‘Make it as hot as you can,’ Edith said, ‘and chuck it in his face.’

      ‘Now stop,’ Mary Ann said angrily. ‘You can give me some help. Crack the eggs for the pudding and beat them in the big yellow bowl.’ Her face pained, and two of her teeth were loose, alarming because she had always feared for her looks, but such murderous words from the children inclined her to take Burton’s side.