“How’s she fairing”, Joe continued, picking up the conversation as they rounded the corner into St Marys, bustling with people making their way home. The wide road flowing with an endless river of rolling wheels, hustling impatiently behind meandering drays and carts, the hum of trams, roar of combustion engines and methodical clip of metalled hooves.
“How does she ever fair”, Charlie said bitterly, glaring at a woman on a bicycle “On her back”.
As they came to a halt at the roadside Joe shuffled uncomfortably. “She’s a fine woman your Mary. Tha could’ve done worse”.
“Aye”, Charlie replied philosophically, pushing his arms into his jacket. “And I could’ve done better. Looks count for nowt where a woman’s concerned”.
Joe opened his mouth to speak, but was cut short by a faint hum and metallic trundling fast approaching them. Stepping into the road he strode forward, pausing for the back of the tram then hopping on board. Turning back he saw Charlie walking quickly in the opposite direction.