Chapter 6
DRURY LANE, LONDON,
FRIDAY APRIL 28th, 1887 11.30PM
MARY MARGARET HOPWELL, BETTER KNOWN AS BLACK EYED MARY, was bitterly cold, shivering in the bleakness of the numbing night air. Even though it was early spring, the night air was chill and layered with gusting rain. Bright puddles in the potholed road shone silver in the gaslight.
She slowly walked up the pavement again, patrolling her patch, looking for custom; any custom, a late diner or theatregoer; custom enough to buy her a gin or two to ease the chill in her bones and still have enough to satisfy her bully. Not that Razor George was easily satisfied. Not by a long chalk.
Mary huddled deeper into her woollen shawl as the shrill wind-blown rain plucked at her again. She used to have a bonnet, a dark green bonnet, fringe
