The Hireling's Tale
“The Tuesday market, much more than the Saturday one, was the commercial and indeed cultural heart of Lynn, and packed the old streets with locals and visitors alike.
Donovan knew his way around Lynn. He’d even been to the Tuesday market before now, arriving the sneaky way - crossing the Great Ouse from the western bank on the passenger ferry that lands a stone’s throw from Tuesday Market Place. (Other markets might be a moveable feast, but changing the day of that in King’s Lynn would involve reprinting the street maps.) Of course, what he knew best was the river. Here in its last reach before dumping its silty contents into The Wash it was wide and brown, decorated by sailing boats and swans and oddly green mud.
He parked Shapiro’s car, carefully, and walked down King Street looking for the Wherry Café. There was a wooden sign above the door like an old inn sign, showing a great barge with a single vast black sail. The heavy door with its bull’s-eye panes tinkled a little brass bell ...as he pushed it open.MoreLess
Donovan knew his way around Lynn. He’d even been to the Tuesday market before now, arriving the sneaky way - crossing the Great Ouse from the western bank on the passenger ferry that lands a stone’s throw from Tuesday Market Place. (Other markets might be a moveable feast, but changing the day of that in King’s Lynn would involve reprinting the street maps.) Of course, what he knew best was the river. Here in its last reach before dumping its silty contents into The Wash it was wide and brown, decorated by sailing boats and swans and oddly green mud.
He parked Shapiro’s car, carefully, and walked down King Street looking for the Wherry Café. There was a wooden sign above the door like an old inn sign, showing a great barge with a single vast black sail. The heavy door with its bull’s-eye panes tinkled a little brass bell ...as he pushed it open.MoreLess
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