A River Full of Gin
It wasn’t a bad day for weather. There were a few clouds overhead but the rays of sun gave Leslie hope. He sat on a bench and waited for Mr. Williams, the copy editor and Edward’s supervisor for assignments at The Globe. As he breathed in the fresh air and turned his face to the sun, Leslie watched groups of small children playing near a fountain while mothers and nannies observed their charges from park benches.
A short man with hat and cane, likely somewhere in his fifties, approached Leslie, shook hands and sat down next to him. Nice looking man. Williams hadn’t changed since Leslie met him a year previous at an office function.
“Reminds me of the peace and quiet of a friend’s garden in Kent,” Leslie said. “A lovely place.”
“The rose garden’s nice here, as close
