Sowerbutt's Loss

After the terrible night, the beef broth at the Tabby was very welcome; Sowerbutt hugging the exhausted pastor in an uncharacteristic show of emotion and slipping a fiver into his jacket pocket.

“When you’ve finished, Spaghetti, we’ll wander down to Queen’s Theatre and check our larder there.”
It was a mess. One of their remaining Poplar larders, an empty shop near the popular music hall, had taken a direct hit. The building was a shell, still standing but badly blasted. The shop was a smouldering wreck, charred goods strewn across the floor and out into the street mixed up with splinters of glass from the shattered windows. The whole scene was lit by yellow and orange flames from a building burning fiercely nearby. The surrounding air was thick with dust. Outside in the street, eerie blue flames from the shattered gas mains flared, died away and flared again.
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