Only the Thunder Knows_East End Girls

by Gord Rollo, Rena Mason

  Hare glared at her, a line of yellow yolk running down his chin, dripping onto the plate. “None of your god damned business, woman! Mind your tongue and just be thankful I bother coming back to this dump at all. Hear?”

  “Yes, William. Sorry…it’s just that—”

  “If you really need to know,” Hare interrupted, “I was chased around all bloody night by a muckle big bird. Everywhere I went this beast followed me. Scared me, it did. I’m man enough to admit that. I stayed in the pub until the sun was up and I was sure it was gone.”

  “Oh, come on now, William. Surely you can come up with a better lie than that?” Maggie said, some of her fire rekindled by her husband’s outlandish story. “A big brute like you scared of a sparrow!”

  “This wasn’t some stupid wee sparrow, Maggie. It was a great white monster: big yellow eyes with huge black claws and a curved beak. You should ‘ave seen it Maggie! I tell ya, there was something ‘no natural about it!”

  “Blimey! What kind of bird was it?”

  “How the blooming hell should I know, Maggie? My mate, Burke, thought it was maybe an albatross. He said they’re evil, bringing disease and bad luck to whoever sees them.”

  “Your friend’s been reading too much Coleridge,” Black butted into their conversation, helping himself to a seat at Hare’s table. “It wasn’t an albatross…it was an owl. A Snowy Owl to be precise. Quite rare in these parts.”

  “My friend doesn’t read, Mr… Who the hell are you, anyway?” Hare asked, ignoring Black and looking toward Maggie for the answer.

  “Sorry, dear. I meant to introduce you. This is Mr. Black. He’ll be staying with us for a few months or more, using your old workshop out back. Paid half up front he did too, so mind your manners.”

  A light went on in Hare’s eyes, a greedy gleam that made his tired, bloodshot eyes look even worse. Suddenly, he was cheery and all smiles, Black’s new best friend whether he wanted one or not.

  “Pleasure to meet you, sir,” Hare said, reaching across the table, extending his large sweaty hand for Black to shake. “Maggie been treatin’ you fairly?”

  “Oh yes. Like a King! I was hoping for some eggs, though.”

  “You heard the man, Maggie. Make yourself bloody useful and get the man some eggs. Do I have to think of everything around here for ya?”

  “No, William. You don’t. Eggs will be right out, Mr. Black. Sorry for the wait.”

  Maggie shuffled off to make more eggs, leaving Black and Hare alone at the table, each silently sizing the other up. It was Hare who spoke first.

  “You’ve seen it, then? The white bird?”

  “Now and then, yes, but let’s talk about something else. Something important. I have a proposition for you.”

  “A propo… what? What does that mean?”

  Black smiled, “It means that if you’re up for a little hard work, and can keep your mouth shut, you’re about to make a whole lot of money. Understand?”

  Hare was smiling now, too. “Perfectly, Mr. Black. Perfectly! What would you have me do?”

  “Two things. First, meet me at the docks tonight at eight o’clock. I have some crates arriving by ship that I’ll need you to bring back here to my room. They’ll be heavy and I don’t want them broken, so you might want to bring someone along to help. Your nonreading friend, perhaps?”

  “Done. What’s the second thing?”

  “We’ll talk about that later.” Black rose from his chair. “Depends if you bungle the delivery, or not.” He turned and headed for the front door.

  “What about your eggs?” Hare asked.

  Black paused but didn’t turn around. “You eat them, William. If things go as planned, you’ll need all the strength you can get.”

  Chapter

  3

  William (Billy) Burke was a burly man with sandy brown hair and overgrown bushy sideburns running down his cheeks all the way to his chin. He was a morose chap, silent and brooding throughout the day but quick to become foulmouthed and mean tempered whenever the booze started flowing at night. He saw nothing wrong with – and in fact took great pleasure in punching, kicking, stealing, lying, and generally whoring his way through life. In short, he was a rotten, nasty man; as close to a true friend as William Hare was ever likely to get.

  Besides sharing the same proper name, both men had left their native Ireland to find work on the Union Canals in Scotland, but neither felt the need to demean himself with such arduous manual labor – both too damn lazy to work for their money. It was no surprise then, both men leeched onto weak women who provided a roof over their heads, food in their bellies, and enough money in their pockets to meet one another in one of the sleazy, run-down pubs Westport had to offer. Through a blur of whisky, ale, prostitutes, gambling, and barroom brawls – sometimes all on the same night – Burke and Hare became best friends and partners in crime. Rarely was one found without the other. Theirs was a symbiotic union of excess, greed, and violence that would soon lead to infamy. Not tonight, though. Tonight they had work to do.

  * * *

  “Move yer arse, ya muckle big lump,” Hare urged. “We can’t be late.”

  Burke wasn’t sure what to make of his friend tonight. William sure was acting strange. Either worried about something, or perhaps excited? He couldn’t decide which, yet. Naturally, they were at a pub, The Gown and Gavel, which was already full with a wide assortment of local rabble. Despite the early hour, there were dirty factory workers and haggard merchants on their way home from work; dolled up whores and fast‐talking con men just heading there; young toughies in looking for a fight; older women in heavy make-up in looking for the young toughies; and numerous drunks not bothering anyone, just swaying on their barstools or already lying face down on the sawdust-covered floor. A wonderful crowd, as far as Billy was concerned. The makings of yet another fun-filled night, and hell, William wasn’t even drinking! God only knew what that meant. Couldn’t be good, though.

  “What’s so special about tonight?” Burke asked, taking another slurp from his pint 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 raven black, shiny as silk, and hung halfway down her exquisite uncovered back. When she turned their way, Burke and Hare gasped as her dress was nearly as low cut on the front, brazenly exposing the woman’s large full breasts, barely contained within a black leather corset. Everything about this women said money; years of pampered living and classy refinement, but there was also a subtle, dark, dangerous way she moved that screamed sex; a street-hardened erotic temptress rather than the product of high society.

  “Look at that, Billy!” Hare said.

  “I see her, William,” Burke answered, his words slurred, dripping with drunken lust. “Do you think I’m blind? How could I miss a strumpet like that?”

  “Not the woman, dullard…quick, up there on the roof. Look!”

  Burke reluctantly tore his eyes away from the lady in green, following Hare’s shaky extended finger skyward. At the peak of the theatre’s roof, wings spread fully out at its sides like a stone gargoyle protecting its chosen sanctuary, was the massive white bird that had scared them last night, anticipating their every move, forcing them to cower indoors until the break of dawn.

  “Blimey!” Burke shouted, causing others in the crowd to look up and notice the strange albino animal. “It’s that great bloody beast again! What’s it doing, William?”

  “I don’t—” Hare began to answer.

  “You’ve seen that bird before?” A strong female voice interrupted him. Burke and Hare nearly gave themselves whiplash snapping their heads down to see who it was speaking. It was the woman from the cab. Up close, she was even more impressive. Her jade eyes perfectly matched the shade of her dress; so large and alluring they actually managed to capture both men, holding their stare away from the tempting pleasures exposed below. For a few seconds, at least.

  “Seen it?” Burke replied. “Bloody thing chased us across half the city last night, it did. Kept swooping down on us, claws ready to have a go at our eyes.”

  “Really…?” She said, taking a step closer. “How fascinating.”

  “We think it might be an albatross. Evil, cursed birds, I’m told. Tell the lady, William?”

  Those strange jade-colored eyes turned Hare’s way, boring into him with an intensity that made him uneasy for some reason. The woman was strikingly beautiful, the sexiest woman he’d ever stood this close to, but there was something about her – a hunger, perhaps – that made him distrust her.

  “Aye. I mean, no. It’s not an albatross. I forgot to tell you, Billy. I was told it was an...ahh...hell I can’t—”

  “An owl,” the woman said. “A Snowy Owl, perhaps?”

  “That’s right. That’s exactly what he said it was.”

  “What who said it was?” she asked, stepping even closer – too close – a quiet desperation in her tone that set Hare’s alarm bells ringing again. Maybe it was all in his head, her intoxicating flowery perfume playing tricks with his simple mind. Regardless, he wasn’t about to expose his employer to anyone, even someone as stunning as this.

  “Oh…I can’t remember. Just one of the local lads down at the pub. He’d seen a bird like it in one of those fancy picture books.”

  “I see,” she said, stepping back and dropping her eyes to the ground. “Well…it’s been a pleasure, gentlemen. Good evening.” She started to walk away, the men’s eyes unconsciously drawn to her backside and the magnificent sway of her hips, but she surprised them by turning back. “Forgive me for not introducing myself. My name’s Magenta. Magenta Da Vine. A stage name, of course, but it has a certain ring to it, don’t you think?”

  “Definitely,” Burke answered, “I take it you’re part of the play, then?”

  “Aye. We’re doing The Scottish Play, naturally.” When neither Burke nor Hare showed any sign of knowing what she was talking about, she explained further. “It’s called Macbeth. Shakespeare’s best, in my opinion.” It was clear neither man still had any idea what she was talking about, so she dropped the subject.

  “What were your names, again?”

  She was looking at Hare, obviously asking him but Burke decided to jump into the conversation, anything to get her to pay some attention to him. He couldn’t let William get all the bragging rights in the pub later.

  “I’m William Burke, at your service ma’am, and this big lump is my mate, William Hare. Our friends call me Billy, just to keep it simple. You can do the same.”

  A seductive smile flashed across Da Vine’s face. “William Hare and Billy Burke…two fine strong Irish names. I like that! Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

  With those promising words, she winked and walked off into the front doors of the Ripley.

  Both men watched her until she disappeared into the theatre, neither managing to breathe until she was gone from view. Facing each other, they had a good laugh.

  “It isn’t everyday you meet a woman like that, my friend,” Burke said, puffing out his barrel chest. “Think she fancied me?”

  “How could she not, Billy?” Hare smiled.

  He slapped his friend on the back and shoved him in the direction of the bottom of the hill. They’d wasted enough time here. Miss Da Vine was certainly a delicious distraction but a fine woman like that would never have anything to do with a couple of common blokes like them. Foolish to imagine any different; not that it stopped either one of them from doing a little wishful thinking as they walked on.

  And who could blame them?

  The smile stayed on Hare’s face until he remembered the bird. The Snowy Owl, he corrected himself. Glancing back up at the roof of the theatre, the owl was now gone, silently slipped away into the approaching night almost as if it had never been there at all.

  Maybe it’s some kind of ghost, he thought. Nonsense of course, but the notion stuck in his mind.

  “Come on, Billy. Let’s go.”

  Chapter

  4

  With the theatre behind them, Burke and Hare walked down the rest of Canal Road, turning onto Ferry Street at the bottom of the hill just as the echo of the bells at St. Giles’ Cathedral reached them, chiming eight times across the city, indicating the hour. They were going to be a few minutes late but neither acknowledged the fact or hurried their pace. They walked in silence, both men increasingly
wary of their surroundings, instinctively on guard even though there was no obvious sign of danger. In this area of urban decay and degradation, caution wasn’t recommended; it was demanded.

  The fog was thicker here, rolling in from the frigid sea, an eerie moving carpet of darkness that covered the filthy street, blotting out the sight of their feet as they moved forward. They didn’t need to see where they were heading to find the docks – all they had to do was follow the putrid stench of rendered whale blubber, salt water, and rotting fish guts. Within minutes, they were there.

  “Where’s your new pal, then?” Billy asked. “Tells us to be on time, but he’ll get here whenever he damn well pleases, I suppose.”

  “No idea, but I’m sure he’s here somewhere. Let’s go back toward Canal Road and see if we can—”

  When William stopped and turned, Ambrosious Black was standing right behind them, touching distance away, monstrously large in a black overcoat and top hat. He was leaning on a wooden walking stick, glancing casually at an expensive silver pocket watch.

  “Christ almighty!” Hare said, shocked such a large man could sneak up on them so stealthily. “Nearly stopped my heart, ya did! Where did you come from?”

  “You’re late, William,” was all Black said, a smoldering anger in the tone of his voice. “You wouldn’t have me thinking you were unreliable now, would you?”

  “Course not. We were held up outside the Ridley, sir. Some artsy group is opening the theatre again. Won’t happen again, gov, on my word.”

  Black’s white eyes bored into Hare for several more seconds then slid away to examine the other man beside him. “And who’s your equally inept mate?”

  “My name’s Burke, sir. You can call me Billy.”

  “Billy it is,” Black said, “You lads follow me. I’ve wasted enough time here.”