(Jean has accompanied her husband to his old house, where Edwin's parents lived until their deaths.)

JEAN ASHTON
(with a look of distaste)
Ooh... Was it always like this?

EDWIN ASHTON
Like what?

JEAN
It's awful. It...smells.

EDWIN
(furious)
Of course it bloody well smells! The whole place smells! There were burning slag heaps practically up to the doorstep!

(Hurt by his outburst, Jean retreats to the other room.)

EDWIN
(still shouting)
When I used to wake up, and there was a wind, I could taste them in my mouth...ashes! You don't have to tell me it smells!

(Regaining his composure, Edwin walks slowly to the other room.)

EDWIN
(contrite)
I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout. But Mam fought that smell every day of her life...cleaning, scrubbing. It was a word we never used, like a slap in the face to her. (sighing)
I'm sorry. I'm taking my guilt out on you. But I haven't been back here for too long, except for the funeral. I neglected them. I loved them, and I neglected them. My conscience tastes a bit like those ashes.

(He looks directly at Jean and continues.)

EDWIN
They felt it that you never came here, you know. They never said as much, but there are some things you just know. I let it lie. I should have said.

JEAN
Yes, I didn't understand...that it meant so much. They weren't my people.

EDWIN
(shaking his head)
No. They weren't your people.

 

(from "Giving and Taking" by John Finch)