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Twinings.

Alive in every drop.

Everybody dies, don't they? Everybody come back then?

Isn't that same?

You tried to get into the locked drawer today, didn't you?

How do the dead come back, mother?

What's the secrets of that they'd come back?

The Frost Fair by Tony Walker.

Two friends pushed through the pub door and into the heat and noise most welcome after the bitter, blistering cold outside.

The water witch, on the north bank of the River Thames in Wapping, was an old pub, 16th century or earlier and famous for its dark ale. This is what had drawn them there.

At this time of year, in the deep midwinter, the pub was serving up pints of the thickest treacle winter warmer.

Tony, a Londoner for more than 15 years now, told Mark, a newcomer, that this was exactly what they needed on this cold and frosty Thameside day.

Looking at them, a stranger would guess that the two men were about the same age, though Tony was slimmer and more expensively dressed.

He sported an expensive camel hair retro coat and a glittering

multi-dialed and multi-duled Tag Hoyer watch that was never used as a watch. His friend Mark

was slightly shorter but far better muscled, whereas Tony looked like an ad man, Mark looked

...