Her husband, Ted Bolton, had been killed in the pit, twenty-two years ago, twenty-two years last Christmas, just at Christmas time, leaving her with two children, one a baby in arms. Oh, the baby was married now, Edith, to a young man in Boots Cash Chemists in Sheffield. The other one was a schoolteacher in Chesterfield, she came home weekends, when she wasn’t asked out somewhere. Young folks enjoyed themselves nowadays, not like when she, Ivy Bolton, was young.