At the crossroads.

 This is in response to the prompt to write a story completely in dialogue.  No narration, descriptions or sentence tags.  maximun word count 1000 words.  I used 706 words.

“Here we are then, off you get.”

“Right. I've got the tools. Where do we start?”

“Over there will do, start stripping the turf.”

“It would be bloody rainin', wouldn't it?”

“Stop moaning and start working.”

“'Ow much?”

“Six by three of course, what else?”

“Six by three? It's a bloody grave! You didn't say we was digging a bloody grave”

“What else would we be digging out here in this weather, you dollop?”

“I thought we were putting up another signpost or sumthin.”

“God Almighty! Did you even bother to think? A signpost? What's that over there then?”

“Well p'raps a mile post then.”

“Bleedin' idiot, that's what you are.”

“'Ang on, if we're digging a grave 'ere, who's it for?”

“The Flint boy.”

“ 'Im! But 'e killed 'imself?”

“Aye, that he did. That's why we're digging here. Now get back over here and pick that bloody spade up.”

“I don't want 'im 'aunting me.”

“Look, you know the rules. Buried in unconsecrated ground, at the crossroads.”

“I dunno. It's not nice.”

“Nice? If you want nice, pretend your digging a flipping flowerbed.”

“Oh, all right.”

“Pile that turf up properly then come and help with the digging.

“'Ow did 'e do it anyway?”

“Why did who do what?”

“Tom Flint. 'Ow did 'e kill 'imself”

“Hanged himself. Used the wire from the fencing he was doing for his Dad.”

“Why?”

“Bloody hell. You don't want to dig his grave but you want to know all the gory details. You young ghoul.”

“Aw. Go on. You might as well tell me. It'll 'elp pass the time while we're digging.”

“Well, you know young May Brown?”

“'Er who lives with 'er aunt at Millbrook?”

“That's right. Tom Flint has been courting her for the last year.”

“Everyone knows that. Bloody 'ell, 'e's talked of nothin' else for months.”

“Then you'll know he asked her to marry him.”

“'E did?”

“That he did. And she said yes”

“And that's why 'e killed 'imself?”

“No, you dollop. He was that happy he looked like he had gone simple, smirking and laughing to himself.”

“So what 'appened?”

“Well, him and his Dad went to see Aunt Brown to talk terms as it were.”

“And she said 'No'? Tom had nowt to offer and weren't every likely to either, bein' the youngest an' all.”

“She said 'Yes' and bloody fast too.”

“What! Why?”

“Turns out young May had got a bit ahead of herself as it were.”

“Hey?”

“She was expecting.”

“Expecting what?”

“God! How old are you? Seventeen? More like bloody seven if you ask me. Expecting a baby, you young thickhead.”

“A baby! Er and Tom! Lord! 'Is Dad'll skelp 'im.”

“Aye, that was the problem you see. It weren't her and Tom.”

“It weren't? Who was it then?”

“May wouldn't say.”

“So Tom killed 'imself?

“Nope. His Dad told Aunt Brown that the whelp would have to go. Said Tom could marry May when there was no babe but he wasn't having any cuckoos in the nest in his family.”

“Cuckoos in the nest?”

“Grow up boy! Kids whose Dads ain't their Dads, if you get me.”

“Bastards, you mean?”

“Aye.”

“So what 'appened then?”

“So Aunt Brown gave May summat to do the job.”

“Do the job?”

“Make her lose it, like the sheep do if they get chased by dogs.”

“Ooooh... Did it work?”

“Oh aye. She lost the baby all right.”

“And?”

“And she wouldn't stop bleeding. Aunt Brown tried everything. Even sent to Pailton for the doctor. Did no good though. Young May bled to death. We heard yesterday.”

“And Tom 'anged 'imself?”

“Aye.”

“Coo.”

“Come on, that's enough. Let's get him off the cart.”

“Off the cart! You're never tellin' me 'e's bin on the bloody cart all this time...”