End of an Era…

The house is silent and empty. The garden is deserted. There is birdsong, and the robin who visits daily to peck in the plant pots makes an appearance as if to say goodbye. Sixty-three years as a family home. Soon and forever, destined to be occupied by strangers.

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The Black Widow

These characters were mainly from the East End, judging by their accents, although some were Essex locals apparently. Mostly men, who carried themselves with a certain swagger and self-confidence, they were well-known and 'respected' by the criminal classes to which they belonged. When they entered the bar a reverent hush descended. All eyes turned to them.

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Observing Mr. Big in Action.

Blokes in black suits with lace ties and interesting bulges - in their jackets - squared their shoulders at one another other, whilst whispering into each other's ears as they drank their cocktails. Huge designer wristwatches flashed as others gesticulated, and every now and again there was a glimpse of a huge gold bracelet or a medallion nestling on top of an abundance of chest hair poking through tight-fitting shirts, jackets open exposing paunches of varying proportions. Their dyed black hair betrayed the lie their wrinkles proclaimed on faces stiff from too much sun.

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