𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 ❨ michael gray ❩

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞

"WATERY LANE. WATERY LANE. WATERY LANE."

Evelyn repeated like a mantra so she wouldn't forget where she was heading.

It had been been a couple of days since Henry left and he hasn't came back, he hasn't gotten in contact, and he hasn't wrote back. Evelyn didnt know if he was purposely ignoring her or if he was just extremely busy with his new family, but she was choosing to believe the latter.

As she walked along the cobbled streets of Watery Lane she considered the things she could say to him. 'Do I question him? Ask him why he didn't reply to my letters?' Before she could organise her thoughts she began knocking on the door of the home Michael told her he would be travelling to before he left. She waited patiently however no one answered, but before she could leave a man who couldn't be much older than herself opened the door. He was wearing a navy suit that fit him well, along with a peaked cap and a small stick hanging out of his mouth.

"Who'er you?" He asked, his accent strong when he spoke.

"My name's Evelyn, I'm a friend of Henry Johnsons." She spoke, fiddling with the hem of her dress as the man's eyes ran over her figure.

"John shelby." He mumbled due to the stick in his mouth as he leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

"Pleasure." She grinned sheepishly. "I'm looking for Henry, Sir. He's supposed to being living here I was told."

John remained silent before asking, "Are you a whore?" While the smirk still remained on his face.

Evelyn was bewildered at the question and was quickly losing her patience "Is there a Henry Johnson here or not?"

A look of realisation then came across his face. "Check The Marquis of Lorne, pub down the street." He muttered and immediately slammed the door in her face, leaving her to question why she even bothered coming to Small Heath in the first place.

"Marks of Larne?" She mumbled to herself, before turning and walking very slowly down the street.

After walking for around ten minutes and still not finding the bar she spied a woman making her way out of a dress shop and decided to stop and ask.

"Excuse me, Miss?" She spoke gently in order not to startle the woman nevertheless, she still seemed startled as her gaze shot to the younger woman. She was older, with curled hair and a large fur coat gracing her shoulders.

"What's a girl like you doing in Small Heath?" The woman asked her brows furrowed but not harsh.

Evelyn smiled, quite embarrassed to be questioned by the woman. "I'm looking for the Marks of Larne pub, I'm afraid that I've gotten lost."

The woman smirked, a curve of her lips the weighed heavy with humour. "I think you mean Marquis of Lorne, Love. Down the bottom of this street and take a left."

"Thank you, sorry I'll be on my way."