Page 93 - sons-and-lovers

against their father, along with their mother. Morel con-
tinued to bully and to drink. He had periods, months at a
time, when he made the whole life of the family a misery.
Paul never forgot coming home from the Band of Hope one
Monday evening and finding his mother with her eye swol-
len and discoloured, his father standing on the hearthrug,
feet astride, his head down, and William, just home from
work, glaring at his father. There was a silence as the young
children entered, but none of the elders looked round.
William was white to the lips, and his fists were clenched.
He waited until the children were silent, watching with chil-
dren’s rage and hate; then he said:
‘You coward, you daren’t do it when I was in.’
But Morel’s blood was up. He swung round on his son.
William was bigger, but Morel was hard-muscled, and mad
with fury.
‘Dossn’t I?’ he shouted. ‘Dossn’t I? Ha’e much more o’ thy
chelp, my young jockey, an’ I’ll rattle my fist about thee. Ay,
an’ I sholl that, dost see?’
Morel crouched at the knees and showed his fist in an
ugly, almost beast-like fashion. William was white with
rage.
‘Will yer?’ he said, quiet and intense. ‘It ‘ud be the last
time, though.’
Morel danced a little nearer, crouching, drawing back
his fist to strike. William put his fists ready. A light came
into his blue eyes, almost like a laugh. He watched his fa-
ther. Another word, and the men would have begun to fight.
Paul hoped they would. The three children sat pale on the

Sons and Lovers