The Tosher's Tale Crystal Hollis
I love this pub. Best selection of ales in London, the prices are low, and the company isn't terrible. Great place to come to after work, or before work, or both. Then again, my work ain't the best type of work in the city. It's not so bad I suppose, digging through whatever comes down into the sewers, I find some nice things sometimes. Just the other week Bernard found himself a fancy bronze pocket watch. Some poor old bastard must have dropped it and it made its way down here to the toshers. That's what we are. Toshers. Every night we come down here and look for all your lost goods. Bits of metal, watches, hairpins, jewellery, coins, anything we can sell or pawn. You'd be amazed how much finds its way into our hands, and ends up with the pawnbroker the next day. Bernard has been getting the best stuff recently, hopefully that's helping quiet his nagging missus. I usually get a decent haul of goods at the end of the week. But sometimes, you start to notice that some toshers are getting hauls that are, well, too good. Somehow, they get a smidge of gold or a lady’s jewelled necklace. Should you come down in our sewers, you’d best stay clear of these men. Like Tom. It all started out so well for the lad. Nice bloke, had alright luck with finding the good stuff. Had a gorgeous girl, name was Alice. Sweet little thing, always made him sandwiches to bring down to the river each night. He was planning on marrying her. Three weeks in with us toshers and things start to go all funny. He asks about how common certain things are, like the jewelled hairpin he found with gold and some pretty blue stones. More importantly, one night as I came out of the sewers I saw him with her. The stunning vision of a woman who walks this embankment at night, going from pub to pub, looking for unwary toshers, with her ruby red lips and one grey eye. Down here we call her Queenie. Before I even have time to warn him, he's buttoning his shirt up tight around his neck or wearing a scarf. He's finding more silver and gold than all of us combined. He's stopped bringing sandwiches down with him to the river. I ask him how Alice is and he just grumbles something under his breath. The rats down here seem to show up in greater numbers when he’s around. The rest of us know exactly what has happened. He's been with her; he's been with Queenie. That scarf is hiding a love bite from the queen of the rats, and her one grey eye should have been a warning to him. Few months later he's still down working with us in the sewers. Alice seems to have forgiven his dalliance and he has his sandwiches again. Still dredging up the best bits in the Thames sewers. But we can't get too angry with him, he's about to find out what all that gold and silver is going to cost him. You 86
