She eyed the deserted alley adjacent to the town square in the shadows of the magnificent York Minister’s tall towers. Sticking out her elbows, she pushed through the crowd until she’d made it to the quiet darkness of Alice Lane, called as such due to the little girl haunting the area. She didn’t know the actual name of the lane, Peter something or other, but she remembered the ghostly fact from the tour she’d taken a few weeks back to get to know her new surroundings.
Leaning against the hard, red brick, she popped a huge piece of treacle in her gob and sucked. That was what Bonfire Night was about; getting up to no good while indulging in dark syrup toffee hard enough to crack a tooth.
She glanced back.
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