Outside in the
side street, One-Line leant against a wall, his hand on the Webley inside his
donkey jacket. In West Ferry Road, Cocker was keeping watch from another warehouse doorway. The main road, busy with lorries and carts in the
daylight hours, was deathly quiet; Cocker was expecting an ARP patrol at some
stage. Lucky, who was barely 18 and had papers saying he had a heart
condition, was admiring an attractive housewife, who was busy knitting, through
a chink in her black-out curtains.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Colour-Smoke-London-Sowerbutt-Novels-ebook-x/dp/B00RYR8BWG geoffreyhowe.wix.com/howebooks
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