In Darkest London

Chapter 3 ~ Stella {Talk of the Tavern}

Stella hurried through the dank cobbled alleyway. A dense sheet of white fog, illuminated by the gas street lamps, loomed ahead. She could barely see her hand when held up in front of her face, she had no chance of knowing just who she was about to approach. As she got close to the entrance she could see the outline of a figure leaning against the golden pillars that stood tall and proud beneath the sign of the 'Ten Bells Pub'. It was the lively hub of the desperate community; a watering-hole for the large numbers of lower-class workers to gather and drink away the woes of their struggling and unfulfilled lives. The rowdy clatter and chatter of drunken patrons spilled out onto the street as a couple of figures burst out through the double doors like empty ale barrels.

Slurred male voices jeered at the slender silhouette as they lunged towards the figure. Stella looked on, hidden within the gloomy shadows of the archway she'd paused under. The men started grabbing out, taunting with obscene and vulgar language. She stepped closer for a better look. A female voice shrieked as one man grabbed her from behind. She kicked out and scratched at the other man's face. He stopped laughing, swung out and smacked the girl in the face. Stella clenched her fist feeling the cracking of her knuckles and let out a deep sigh. Her eyes narrowed in on the men as she emerged from the darkness and carefully placed a steely knuckle duster over her bare hand.

"Oi" she interrupted. The scrappy struggle stopped dead. The men didn't look up, instead the one that had hit the girl doubled-over in a laughing fit before throwing an off-balanced swing in Stella's general direction. He missed completely and fell over. The other man looked up and froze.

"Christ".

"Try again." Stella threatened as she raised her fist into view, the weight of her weapon glinting in the lamplight.

The man that had spoken scrambled away before the other even managed to get to his feet. Once up off the floor, he held a look of recognition on his face. Holding up his hands, palms forward, his lips curled into a nervous grin "Stella! I didn't -."

"Oh?" her head cocked to the side, "Didn't what? Didn't realise what a filthy bleedin' pig you are?"

"Come on, Stell, she's nothin' but a dirty puzzle that one, everyone knows -."

"Yeah? Well, everyone should know she's with me now, so may I suggest you stop your tot-hunting before this clunky bit of knuckle finds its way so hard into yer groin you'll 'ave no tallywags left to tease with."

He huffed, took a last look at the girl, and spat at the ground, "Wouldn't wanna catch anythin' she's got anyway." he said before skulking away slowly into the night.

The girl brushed herself down, which seemed a pointless task considering how filthy her fingernails were, her dress smeared with soot from the thick smoke of the city. "Thanks, yeah." She said, lowering her eyes to the floor.

"Come with me, doll." Stella offered as she walked past her and entered the pub through the double doors.

Inside was cramped, the atmosphere loud and rife. The red and green patterned walls could barely be made out through the crowd, mostly men, as they drank ale from jars with metal handles and shouted over each other. Stella barged her way through to the front, the girl following close behind. The landlord saw her coming. He said something to a patron occupying a stool at the bar and gave him a shove on the shoulder making him give up his seat. "Stella," he grinned, bearing two metal front teeth, "please." he said as he gestured toward the stool.

"The usual," Stella said as she sat the girl down, "and whatever the lady likes." The landlord clicked his fingers in the air and a little street urchin boy appeared with a tatted rag to wipe the bar in front of them. "What's yer poison?" Stella asked.