for writers and readers….
… everyone could smell sulphur, a rotten, cloying smell that seeped into the lungs. From the window they could see ugly swirls of fog licking around the dustbins by the backdoor…Already the back fence had disappeared and, as Cathleen struggled into her coat, the fog grew denser. It crept up the garden, swallowing the flower beds and washing line. When the telephone rang it had reached the dustbins…
At the top of the road a bus was inching its way along and from the same direction came a muted honking. Cathleen ran. She ran towards the lights and noise and didn’t care what was in the way. She was running blind. She heard Father Jerry call out but she didn’t want to hear what he had to say.
…the road was washed with a gauzy light, like a candle seen through a veil. Reg had kept the shop open and an odd collection of standard lamps and bedside lights shone from every window. A row of paraffin lamps flickered on top of the sweet jars casting a golden glow into the sulphuric fog and Reg, wrapped up in a muffler, stood at the door with a torch in either hand.
Cars and buses hooted in appreciation as they passed. Reg was lighting the way home.