Sowerbutt's Fire

The two men lay flat on their backs in Poplar Rec, as the Recreation Ground was commonly known. The grass was speckled with black, tree leaves and bark were scattered everywhere plus the odd branch ripped off in nearby bomb blasts together with the shattered top of an orange Belisha beacon which had blown in from the road. “Thank God for the all-clear, guv. We’ve lost a couple of houses but our people are alright apart from a few scratches and bruises and one broken arm. A couple of them are missing, but hopefully they’ll be at work.”

Sowerbutt rarely smoked cigarettes, but he was enjoying a Player’s cadged from Spaghetti. “It was a good idea to send them to All Saints and the Tabby. The dog collars will look after them tonight and we can re-house them later. But I don’t know what will happen if there’s another raid.
“I don’t like it, Spaghetti, I don’t like it at all. The Docks are copping it with the fires way out of control. Another Great Fire of London. We can’t go on like this. Let’s get back to the house and clean up.”
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Colour-of-Red-ebook/dp/B00B1CWM5M/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1358353851&sr=1-1