Mary fell in love with London in the early morning. She had always enjoy walking and her shawl kept out the chill. The city spread around her like a magic carpet of discoveries. She pitied Annie, still fast asleep, willfully missing it all.
Covent Garden itself was another world - a hive of activity, full of noise and bustle just as busy as if it was the middle of the day. Carts rolled in from every street, full of fresh flowers, fruits and vegetables. They were offloaded by colourful costermongers with a series of shouts and arguments. Mary marveled at the pointed yellow boots and silk neckerchiefs of the men, the gaudy shawls and the bright feathers of the women. Here they had a fashion of their own and were proud of it.
Horses snorted into the cold morning air, which was alive with the smell of animals and dung, pollen and herbs, coffee and stale beer on the breath of the workers. Every now and then the carters would stop to catcall or whistle as an extravagantly dressed woman passed by, with a wasp-tight waist and painted face, sometimes on the arm of a drunken-looking gentlemen. Not only fruits and vegetables were sold here, Mary reflected, with a sudden jolt of understanding. She found herself just standing and staring for minutes on end, watching it all as if it were a play. Only the sound of an Irish accent at a nearby stall jolted her into activity, reminding her of Annie and what would happen if she didn't get home soon.
Following Ophelia, P100-101
Sophia Bennett
ISBN 978-1-84715-810-9
