Only the Thunder Knows_East End Girls Read Online Free PDF Page A
Author: Rena Mason Gord Rollo
of
bitter. “You don’t even know how much this bloody lodger of yours is gonna pay
us yet.”
“It’ll be
enough. No worries. I got a good feeling about this bloke. He’s up to
something. Something he needs a couple fella’s with strong arms and closed lips.
Hear? Tonight’s only a drop in the bucket, Billy, long as we don’t blow it
being late.”
“So move yer
arse,” Burke muttered, slamming his empty glass on the table and heading for
the door.
“Now why
didn’t I think of that?” Hare laughed, turning to follow his friend.
Outside, a
light drizzle fell from a black swirling sky. It was more of a mist than a real
rain, and Burke and Hare barely noticed its presence, thankful it was milder
tonight and the incessant fog had so far been held at bay. Hopefully the
weather would hold at least until they’d finished and were comfortably back in
the pub. After that, the fog and rain could do as it pleased.
The Gown and
Gavel was on Bishop’s Row, one of the better streets of Westport – if in fact, any street in this filthy section of the city could be described in that manner.
Still, as run-down and low-class an area as Bishop’s Row was, it may as well
have been Princess Street outside Edinburgh Castle compared to where Burke and
Hare were headed.
The harbor of
Westport, commonly known simply as The Docks, was a terrible place, a
four-block area on the shores of the Firth of Forth, an estuary of the frigid
North Sea. It was the worst of the worst; an enter-at-your-own-risk no man’s
land if ever there had been one. After dark, the only people who considered
visiting were sailors, thieves, murderers, and fools. Even the police,
prostitutes, and rats seemed to steer clear. No one would bother Burke and
Hare, though. Men like them tended to blend right in.
Turning onto
Canal Road, the dimly lit street curved slowly to the right as it descended toward
Ferry Street and the water. It was normally dead quiet by this time, the
streets deserted by people with enough sense to lie low and let the shadows of
the night pass them by. Tonight though, there was some sort of commotion going
on outside the Ripley Theatre, with people milling around on the steps and in
front of the old building. Burke and Hare picked up their pace, anxious to see
if there was trouble afoot. Unfortunately, it was only a group of traveling
actors moving some of their props and stage sets from the back of several
wagons inside of the storied theatre.
The Ripley had
been popular with the privileged and artsy crowds years ago, before the riff-raff
took over, but the affluent members of society didn’t feel comfortable coming
to this seedy area of Edinburgh anymore and the massive brick building that
once entertained royalty had been empty for the better part of five years.
Apparently, that was about to change.
Not that Burke
and Hare gave a rat’s turd about a bunch of silly toffs parading around in silk
tights and ridiculous pancake make-up, spewing words that barely seemed human –
never mind English – at the top of their lungs to a room full of rich snobs. No
thanks, definitely not for real men like them. Only wankers would be
caught dead in a theatre. Heads high, snickering openly at the men these thugs
considered girly and far below them on the societal food chain, Burke and Hare
would’ve happily passed by forgetting the actors and their asinine play, but
the sound of a pair of working horses pulling to a stop behind them caused the
two friends to stop and look. Few, if any people living in this area could
afford a cab ride so they were naturally curious as to who might climb out.
Their interest
was piqued further once the driver stepped down to open the door and a heavenly
set of sexy long legs appeared from within. Attached to the legs soon followed
a woman so stunningly beautiful the men’s jaws nearly hit the cobbled street.
She wore a dark green dress hanging low off her shoulders and slit high up her
thigh. Her hair was
bitter. “You don’t even know how much this bloody lodger of yours is gonna pay
us yet.”
“It’ll be
enough. No worries. I got a good feeling about this bloke. He’s up to
something. Something he needs a couple fella’s with strong arms and closed lips.
Hear? Tonight’s only a drop in the bucket, Billy, long as we don’t blow it
being late.”
“So move yer
arse,” Burke muttered, slamming his empty glass on the table and heading for
the door.
“Now why
didn’t I think of that?” Hare laughed, turning to follow his friend.
Outside, a
light drizzle fell from a black swirling sky. It was more of a mist than a real
rain, and Burke and Hare barely noticed its presence, thankful it was milder
tonight and the incessant fog had so far been held at bay. Hopefully the
weather would hold at least until they’d finished and were comfortably back in
the pub. After that, the fog and rain could do as it pleased.
The Gown and
Gavel was on Bishop’s Row, one of the better streets of Westport – if in fact, any street in this filthy section of the city could be described in that manner.
Still, as run-down and low-class an area as Bishop’s Row was, it may as well
have been Princess Street outside Edinburgh Castle compared to where Burke and
Hare were headed.
The harbor of
Westport, commonly known simply as The Docks, was a terrible place, a
four-block area on the shores of the Firth of Forth, an estuary of the frigid
North Sea. It was the worst of the worst; an enter-at-your-own-risk no man’s
land if ever there had been one. After dark, the only people who considered
visiting were sailors, thieves, murderers, and fools. Even the police,
prostitutes, and rats seemed to steer clear. No one would bother Burke and
Hare, though. Men like them tended to blend right in.
Turning onto
Canal Road, the dimly lit street curved slowly to the right as it descended toward
Ferry Street and the water. It was normally dead quiet by this time, the
streets deserted by people with enough sense to lie low and let the shadows of
the night pass them by. Tonight though, there was some sort of commotion going
on outside the Ripley Theatre, with people milling around on the steps and in
front of the old building. Burke and Hare picked up their pace, anxious to see
if there was trouble afoot. Unfortunately, it was only a group of traveling
actors moving some of their props and stage sets from the back of several
wagons inside of the storied theatre.
The Ripley had
been popular with the privileged and artsy crowds years ago, before the riff-raff
took over, but the affluent members of society didn’t feel comfortable coming
to this seedy area of Edinburgh anymore and the massive brick building that
once entertained royalty had been empty for the better part of five years.
Apparently, that was about to change.
Not that Burke
and Hare gave a rat’s turd about a bunch of silly toffs parading around in silk
tights and ridiculous pancake make-up, spewing words that barely seemed human –
never mind English – at the top of their lungs to a room full of rich snobs. No
thanks, definitely not for real men like them. Only wankers would be
caught dead in a theatre. Heads high, snickering openly at the men these thugs
considered girly and far below them on the societal food chain, Burke and Hare
would’ve happily passed by forgetting the actors and their asinine play, but
the sound of a pair of working horses pulling to a stop behind them caused the
two friends to stop and look. Few, if any people living in this area could
afford a cab ride so they were naturally curious as to who might climb out.
Their interest
was piqued further once the driver stepped down to open the door and a heavenly
set of sexy long legs appeared from within. Attached to the legs soon followed
a woman so stunningly beautiful the men’s jaws nearly hit the cobbled street.
She wore a dark green dress hanging low off her shoulders and slit high up her
thigh. Her hair was