Lottie smiled softly, her eyes fixed on Bill and his mustache. Though he had kissed her countless times, it was still like being kissed by a stable broom, a bristly, familiar warmth. Theirs was the love well worn with time to a buttery softness, a deep comfort that settled into her bones, unlike Bill's mustache.

Their meeting on the railway track, in the very pits of her despair, was burned into her memory second by second. The air then had been thick with the acrid smell of coal dust and the harsh, scolding jackals of the other workers. Amidst it all, Bill had simply strode in, a solid presence against the chaos, and scooped her up. He’d wrapped his soot-stained coat, smelling faintly of grit and engine oil, around her shivering shoulders as her distress poured from her in ragged sobs. He listened as she blurted that her life was ruined, that she could never go home again, that she was now fallen and stupid. She had built her life around the word of another, that he loved her unceasingly, that he had promised her the world. But back in reality, all she possessed was a steaming mug of strong tea and the quiet, unwavering gaze of a compassionate railwayman. Memories changed quickly.

"My mam couldn't stand ye, remember?" Lottie added wistfully. "Said if I wanted to be covered in soot, I'd do better weddin' a coal scuttle. She had me paired with young Ned from the 'Three Boat' Bellows' lot, bless his simple heart. Da thought ye were solid as oak though."