Play@YSDC

St. James's Church- London, England
7:15 AM - Sunday, September 8, 1940

Charles Davis had been working at his store in East London yesterday afternoon when the air raid sirens had sounded. Not sure if he would have enough time to reach a public shelter, he had stayed in his Anderson shelter behind the store until the all clear had sounded this morning. He had somehow managed to sleep through much of it, though loud noises had awakened him from time to time. The store had survived the night intact, as had he. After breakfast, he had headed to the nearby St. James's Church for morning services. He had seen some bomb damage along the way, but the church itself was intact. He arrived early, for only two people were there: the elderly Reverend Giles Curry, and a pretty young woman with blonde hair he didn't recognize.

Charles closed the doors behind him and greeted the Reverend with a nod as he walked over and hung his coat. Though the weather was particularly fare, he wasn't one to trust something so fickle. The damage witnessed on the way in had reminded him of his father's tales of the Haymarket Riot. The difference here was there was no question as to who had caused this.

Charles shook the reverend's hand as he had so many times before.
"Good morning Giles. Glad to see you're safe."

"Good morning, Charles," rasped the rector with a smile. "Likewise." At that moment, two old ladies walked into the church, carrying bags of clothing. "Ah, welcome back, Mrs. Cruckshank and Mrs. Duncan."

Phyllis could see that Laura was still here, though none of the others from the shelter last night were present. The man with Giles Curry was one they hadn't seen before, a tall man in his mid-fifties who had clearly seen better days.

Phyllis Cruckshank bustles in carrying a huge handbag and a second bag of something squashy."Good morning, Reverend; my, what a night that was! Nothing that a nice bit of breakfast can't remedy however." She puts down a bag behind a pew. "Here, Maggie, put these bags here. These clothes belonged to that poor girl, Nell Murrows. Quite a collection, I must say!" She says darkly to all present.

"I'll put some on in a minute," said the reverend, peering into one of the bags after Maggie set hers down. "Good heavens! Surely this must be an undergarment. I can't imagine anyone going about dressed in that. She'd have been arrested on sight!"

"Morning ladies." said Charles to the two who had just arrived and the young woman. He was unsure if he remembered seeing them at church services or in the store; many people come and go and they tend to blur together after a while.

"Name's Charles. I own the general store just down the way." He gestures in the direction of the store.
"Now, what is this I hear about undergarments?" He says with exaggerated interest.

Phyllis gives Charles a hard stare. "These are the undergarments and other attire of a poor girl who was savagely attacked and killed last night. They are of a type that certain men might find alluring but not the sort that any self respecting woman would consider wearing.

Now Nell Murrows had fallen on hard times and this was her way. She had only to come to the Women's institute and we'd have found a place for her I dare say. Still, you can't force a body." Phyllis sniffs and then lowers her voice,

"They say she was attacked by a large animal not far from here."

"I'm Maggie Duncan," said the other old woman.

"Hi, I'm Laura," said the young lady with a shy smile.

Charles to Phyllis "I apologize ma'am. I meant nothing ill by the comment."

Not wishing to cause further insult, Charles sighed as he sat in a nearby pew and began rubbing his knee. "Sorry, but, arthritis is beginning to get the better of me these days." He half-turned toward everyone to indicate his desire to remain within the conversation. Though curious about this 'large animal' apparently wondering around London, he thought it bad timing to ask about such things and hoped the conversation would work its way onto the subject naturally.

"Well, that's alright young man." says Phyllis to Charles. She rummages in her vast handbag for a moment and brings out an evil-looking brown glass bottle. "This does wonders for my arthiritis; three drops a day in your tea, or whatever. Here, try some." She passes it to Charles.

Reverend, has that pilot from last night been back? Mrs Duncan and I are trying to track down an airman who was dating Nell Murrows; he might be the last person who saw her alive last night. Where is everyone? I thought they were coming back for the sermon."

"I already gave an early one," said Giles, "but I'll give another at the regular time. The American pilot did return, but he went with a few of the others to the warehouse where she was found. I don't know where it is, unfortunately, but I expect they'll be back."

Phyllis looks despondent. "I'd forgotten he was American; he's unlikely to know of a particular British pilot but it's our only option. Well, we can't sit here all day. We might be able to find out which warehouse it was; just need to ask around. It can't be far. What do you say, Maggie?" She looks at Charles, "You don't know anything about it I suppose?"

"I'll come with," said Maggie, "but I've no idea where it is or how to find it. We were all sensible and stayed here last night instead of going out into an air raid like some people. I guess we could just walk around the area and look for a bombed out warehouse, but there's liable to be a lot of them."

Charles pockets the bottle after a brief inspection. "I don't recall hearing anything about a girl being mauled; but, I expect news like that to spread quite quickly. The shop opens after Sunday services. I could ask some of my regulars if they had heard anything. Business drop off sharply in the afternoon so we can meet there, or I can close early and we can meet up elsewhere. Thanks much for the medicine, I'll give it a try once I get back to it."

Phyllis stands up and picks up her bag, "Where is your shop? We'll come by later but I fancy a walk now. We'll pin down a warden; they often know the latest on what happened during the raids." Phyllis gives the impression she has a habit of 'pinning' hapless wardens down. "Reverend, can we pick the bags of clothes up later on the way back to the W.I.?"

"Yes, that's perfectly fine," said Giles.

As Phyllis, Maggie, and Charles were about to leave, a large group of people began to arrive.

OOC,Everyone is moving to the thread linked below:

The Plot Thickens