Lost Children of Bethnal Green (Quigg #9) by Ellis Tim

Author:Ellis, Tim
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller, suspense, murder mystery, psychological, witchcraft, tim ellis
Publisher: Tim Ellis

Railway arches acquired for re-development

in 2017

by

Interim Holdings

They headed for the burning brazier under the second of the five arches. There was a homeless man of indeterminate age wearing a filthy trench coat over layers of other clothes. On his head was a woollen hat, which resembled a knitted tea cosy, and around his neck a thick knitted scarf.

Quigg stood by the brazier and held is hands out towards the flame as if he lived there, or at least was a regular visitor.

Rummage copied him.

‘Weather’s turning,’ the man said.

‘I think of it more as a slippery slope,’ Quigg said, like a meteorologist with questionable credentials. ‘You’re sitting on your sled, it has no brakes, and you’re sliding towards the worst winter there ever was. You keep pulling on your brake, but nothing seems to happen. In fact, if anything, you seem to be going faster. You can see the frost, icicles, snowmen and snowstorms up ahead in the distance, but there’s nothing you can do to stop your inevitable fall into the frozen wastes of December, January and February.’

The man looked quizzically at him through rheumy eyes, and then shot his hand out. ‘Crybaby Tucker.’

Against his better judgement Quigg shook the hand. ‘Pleasure to meet to meet you, Crybaby. I can imagine there’s a tale or two behind the name.’

‘You bet.’

‘I’m Quigg, and this young lady is Jezebel.’

Crybaby held his hand out towards Rummage. ‘I used to know a Jezebel in a different time and place.’

Rummage shook Crybaby’s hand as if she were picking up barker’s eggs with her bare fingers.

‘Of course, that wasn’t her real name. I think it was Hilda, or something like that, but that’s what people used to call her . . . Yeah! They’d say, “There goes that Jezebel”.’

‘Jezebel is my real name,’ Rummage said.

‘Get away? Who’d call their child Jezebel knowing what we know about people called Jezebel?’

‘What do you know?’

‘Me? I don’t know nothing.’

‘That’s right,’ Rummage said. ‘You don’t know anything about me. A name is just a name.’

‘Gotcha. Forget I ever mentioned it.’

Quigg squeezed Rummage’s arm to stop her talking. ‘You been living here long, Crybaby?’

‘Five years this has been my home, but not for much longer by the looks of things.’ He pointed upwards. ‘You see the sign?’

‘We saw it.’

‘Ain’t nowhere soon an honest tramp will be able to rest his weary head. Those people with money come around and buy it all up, destroying the natural beauty of London. Railway arches are a part of Britain, part of who we are as British people, part of living on the streets.’

‘Well, we’re not people with money, you can be sure about that. I haven’t got two beans to rub together. What about you, Rummage?’

‘Not a cent.’

‘I could tell by looking at you that you had no money,’ Crybaby said. ‘You thinking of moving in here?’

‘Just looking,’ Quigg said. ‘Any chance of you showing us around?’

‘Sure. I show people around for a small commission. This is Crybaby Tucker’s estate – everybody knows that. Five years in a place, you get to know the nooks and crannies, and the people.

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