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jerked Peter out of his reverie and he got up and went back to the window. He watched with growing anxiety as some of the workers defied the call for solidarity and marched defiantly through the pickets. Scuffles broke out and the situation became tense. Some of the strikers were holding up banners calling for support for the miners and, as other workers tried to pull them down, the fighting got worse; banners were broken and the sticks used as clubs. As he watched the disturbance by the gates Peter was shocked and sickened. His trusted foreman Joe Cooper was fighting on the side of the strikers, and Peter saw him punching out at a couple of strangers who were trying to snatch a banner from one of the female workers. Peter was convinced that the two ruffians did not work at the factory.
    The door opened and Gerald strode in. ‘Miss Jones has already called the police, Peter,’ he said quickly. ‘They’ll sort out this bloody mess.’
    Peter looked hard at his younger brother and pointed in the direction of the yard. ‘Who are they? Those two thugs don’t work here.’
    Gerald looked down towards the gates. His brother noticed the ghost of a wry smile cross his face. ‘I don’t know them,’ he said. ‘They look to me like strike breakers.’
    ‘They look to me like strike breakers, too,’ Peter said pointedly. ‘Are they the strike breakers you were telling me about who were involved round at the Matthew’s factory last week?’
    Gerald glared coldly at his brother but didn’t speak.
    Peter looked down into the street and saw Joe Cooper lying on the ground, several boots raining kicks into his curled-up body. Other workers started to drag the attackers off as police rushed up to the gates and pulled the fighters apart. With its bell ringing, a Black Maria roared into the turning and screeched to a halt. Peter watched people being bundled unceremoniously into the back of the van, and he saw the halfconscious figure of Joe Cooper dragged along the cobbles and thrown in with the others. He turned away from the window and looked at his younger brother, his face contorted with anger. ‘I suppose you think this is the way to deal with this sort of thing?’ he said loudly.
    Gerald’s face darkened. ‘What are you accusing me for?’ he said with a nonchalant shrug.
    ‘You must think I’m stupid,’ Peter said, his voice quiet and scornful. ‘A friend of yours gets strike breakers in to deal with his troubles and you think it serves his workers right, and now you don’t know what’s been going on down there?’ He shook his head. ‘Bring in the toughs and let them beat up the workers. If the old man gets to hear of this it’ll kill him. Christ Almighty, Gerald, you’re a fool.’
    His younger brother’s face reddened with anger. ‘This business belongs to the family. I’ve got as much right as you to look after its best interests. What gives you the right to preach to me?’
    Peter breathed in deeply. He knew that if he continued he would be opening a black chapter in Gerald’s past that they had agreed to bury. He walked around behind his desk and sat down heavily. Gerald watched his progress, a look of distaste on his handsome features. Peter said nothing. He clasped his hands on the desk top and pressed the tips of his fingers together until the nails went white. After some time he looked up into his brother’s eyes and said quietly, ‘They’ll be needing you on the factory floor if we’re to get the machines running, Gerald.’
    Gerald turned and stalked to the door. He paused before turning again to face his elder brother. Peter’s head was bent forward and he appeared to be inspecting a document. Gerald eyed him warily; he knew that his past misdemeanour would always be held against him, and would be used to make sure he behaved. He was trapped. ‘I’ll come up later when I’ve sorted things out,’ he said coldly, and stepped out into the passageway, shutting the door behind him.
     
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