“Tha didn’t put enough slag on the coals”. He passed her an accusing glance from under his outstretched arm, his words bitter and unforgiving. “How in God’s name does tha expect these few miserable ashes to catch”.
With one arm in the small of her back and the other pressed against the doorframe, Mary closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Charlie prodded the failing embers again with short, sharp thrusts of the poker, bent and thinning from years of use.
Opening her eyes, Mary spoke with equal bitterness, lifting her bowed head her brown eyes flashed angrily. “If tha was here where tha belongs instead of out till all hours the fire wouldn’t be dead. The buckets too heavy to lift”.
The poker rattled angrily against the hearth as it was flung down. Pushing himself suddenly upright Charlie turned on the pale, bent figure of his wife. “If tha was a true wife, not some ailing excuse for a woman I wouldn’t have to look elsewhere for what’s mine by rights”.