Only the Thunder Knows_East End Girls by Rena Mason Gord Rollo Page A

and
water, my arse!” William said, his teeth clenched in anger.
    It
was the following night, and although both Burke and Hare were still exhausted
from the previous day’s strenuous work helping build the statue (not to mention
several hours of drunken foolery in the pub after) the men were back in Calton
Cemetery trying to keep both of their mutually impatient employers happy. It
was cold and rainy tonight, the fog so thick the grave robbers could almost reach
out and comb through layers of it with their bare hands. The ground
they were digging in was much harder than usual, not frozen but not far off it
either. It didn’t snow too often here in Edinburgh, what with the city’s proximity
to the water, but it wouldn’t have surprised William or Billy in the least to
see some of the white flakes flying soon. Making things worse, the wind howled
in from the North Sea and cut straight through their clothes, chilling them to
their bones even though they’d each worn an extra sweater.  It was a terrible
night to be outside even for a moment, much less standing exposed to the
elements out in these open fields.
    It
was no wonder Hare was in such a foul mood.
    “No
way could soap shine up those stones like that. I’m telling you, Billy, he’s
lying to us. I mean, did you smell that bucket for God’s sake? Smelled worse
than your sweaty socks after no’ changing them for a fortnight.”
    “For
the tenth time…I hear you,” Billy said, pausing his digging for a moment to
blow in his hands to try and warm them. “I just don’t know why you keep going
on and on about it? Why do you care?”
    “’Cause
I don’t like being bloody lied to, that’s why. I’ve about had enough. Who in
blazes does the old git think he is?”
    “Careful,
mate…” Billy said, his eyes looking skyward. “That horrible beast of his might
be listening. I told you I saw it following me earlier today. It was—”
    “I
don’t care about the blasted owl. I’m getting sick and tired of letting these
people order us around. Bollocks to Black and double bollocks to that bitch down
at the theatre. Neither of them will give us a straight answer and they expect
us to freeze our cocks off digging though ground as hard as bloody rock. I’ve a
good mind to–”
    “Shhh…quiet!”
Billy said, tugging on William’s arm to try and get him to duck down out of
sight. “Did you hear that?”
    “Hear
what? I didn’t hear—”
    “Shhh…there
it is again. I think someone’s coming!”
    Now
that Hare focused he could hear it too. Footsteps – heavy ones too, not someone
who was trying to stay quiet – were approaching from the south. With the fog
and the rain, it was impossible to tell who it might be or if perhaps it was
more than one person headed their way. The visit the other night from Magenta
Da Vine’s goons was still fresh in Hare’s mind, so he grabbed the spare shovel
and whispered in Burke’s ear, “Keep low and out of sight. I’m gonna circle
‘round behind the buggers.”
    Before
he could argue, William disappeared into the miserable night, leaving Billy
standing there all alone inside a half dug grave. Billy crawled out of the hole
and crouched down behind a small blackthorn bush. The ground was semi-frozen
but was still saturated enough to soak through his pants. He was already drenched
to the skin anyway, so what did it matter? Hopefully whoever was in the
cemetery with them would go away and leave them alone. The sooner they could
get out of here tonight, the better.
    A
dim glow shattered the gloom, and a short, stocky older man with a grey beard
pushed his way through the fog and headed straight for the grave Billy had been
digging.
    “Hey
you!” the man said, easily spotting Billy’s muddy boots sticking out from
behind the bush. “What’s your game then, mate?”
    There
was no reason for Billy to stay in hiding anymore so he climbed to his feet, (just
now noticing the new arrival had a pistol aimed his way) and