‘Can I buy thee a drink, Mr Starkie?’ he asked.

‘Aye, all right,’ he said moodily, draining his cup and giving it to Mary as she passed.

As she filled the cups Mary heard the raised voices and wondered if some new customers had arrived, but when she went back into the parlour she saw that both Mr Starkie and William Hart were on their feet.

‘And I’m tellin’ thee to stay away from her!’ Starkie was shouting as he jabbed his forefinger at William Hart’s chest.

‘Tha doesn’t own her! She can do as she likes!’

For a moment Mary wondered who they were arguing about; then as they both looked at her she felt a cold fear creep through her – a fear that Mr Starkie would accuse her of encouraging another man. She put down the beer with shaking hands, but knew better than to say anything.

‘Tha can keep thy drink!’ Starkie picked up his pint and threw it in William’s face. It stunned the ropemaker for a moment. Then his temper rose as he wiped his face on his sleeve. William picked up his own pint, as if to retaliate, but thought better of the waste of good beer and set it down again with deliberation before balling his hand into a fist and taking his opponent by surprise as he swung a punch at him. It was more good luck than talent, thought Mary, that he caught Mr Starkie full on the jaw and sent him staggering back towards the unguarded fire. Starkie caught at the mantelpiece with his hand to save himself. He’d hung his jacket on the back of the chair and his shirt was well tucked in, but he was still lucky not to catch light and there was a moment of silence in the parlour as everyone watched.

‘That’s enough!’ roared Mrs Hall as she strode out from the kitchen. But Starkie’s temper was out of control and he growled as he flung himself at young William Hart, knocking him to the floor and kicking him again and again as he lay there feebly trying to protect himself with his hands. Mrs Hall grabbed at Starkie and cried out for help. The other men pulled him back and pinned his arms to his sides. Sweat was running from his temples and a trickle of blood from his nose. Mary watched as they helped William up and put him on a chair, asking him if he was all right, though he’d taken a battering and would be black and blue by morning.

‘Tha’d best go,’ Mrs Hall told William. Mary knew that she wouldn’t put Mr Starkie out, even though he was to blame. He was too good a customer.

‘Aye. And don’t thee show thy face in here again!’ added Starkie as William was helped to his feet. Then, when the door had swung shut, he walked across to the table, picked up William’s pint and drank it down. ‘And don’t let me see thee anywhere near him!’ he warned Mary.