Free Falling For Henry by Beverley Brenna Page A

in striped pants, standing on an apple crate and gesturing wildly. Kate hung back as they approached but Hal pulled her forward.
    â€œThese people are a disgrace,” said Hal, flinging his arm around Kate’s shoulders. “Going to the dogs, that’s what’s happening to this city.”
    â€œI was fell sure I’d had them aw,” the man was whining, his voice raspy, his arms outstretched. “But bad omens in these times has brought back the creeshie devils.” He cast a bloodshot eye on the handful of onlookers. The way he moved his head reminded Kate of a rusty signboard swinging back and forth, back and forth in the wind.
    â€œAfore ye knows what befell ye—” he continued.
    â€œOkay, move along, move along.” A policeman, a bobby , Kate thought, had appeared, dispersing the crowd. “Away, or I’ll arrest you for disturbing the peace,” the bobby said. In response, the small man shook his head from side to side as he backed away, muttering, “They wouldnae listen … nae, they wouldnae listen …”
    Kate felt a shiver run down her spine. He was creepy. She wondered if he were one of the many homeless people who slept outside. She’d seen the shelters made from cardboard and old quilts. She shivered again, watching him skulk off into the shadows.
    â€œWhat was that guy talking about?” she asked Hal.
    â€œWolves,” said Hal, snorting, giving her shoulder a squeeze before dropping his arm. “He thinks that London’s actually going to the wolves! Says there’s a pack here that needs to be hunted down. I heard him last Sunday. ’Course he’s cracked in the head.”
    â€œBut I think … I think there are wolves here,” Kate suddenly confided. “I’ve … I think I’ve seen them, too.”
    â€œYou must be off your nut!” said Hal. “There haven’t been wolves here for hundreds of years. We exterminated them, you know, in about the fifteenth century. Good thing, too, bloodthirsty devils.”
    A majestic black woman in a sweeping polka-dot muumuu stepped over to them.
    â€œI bet you are wondering,” she intoned, “about the power of love.”
    â€œNo, we’re not, actually,” snapped Hal in a voice Kate hadn’t heard from him before. The woman looked affronted. He doesn’t have to speak so roughly, Kate thought.
    â€œFor just two pounds, you could share your love with those who need it most,” the woman told them.
    â€œWho? Who needs it most?” asked Hal boldly.
    â€œThe little children,” she answered.
    â€œWe don’t have time for this,” muttered Hal, taking Kate’s arm. The smell of something metallic, maybe his deodorant, made Kate take a step away and break free of him.
    â€œCome on or we’ll be late!” called Hal, striding ahead. “We’ve got a bit of a walk, yet.” Kate followed, looking back at the woman who had raised her arms and was rocking back and forth as she spoke. Was she really collecting for charity? Kate couldn’t be sure.
    The grass was thick underfoot, and although Kate’s legs ached from all the walking she’d done that day, she didn’t mind the exercise. At least when you were walking, you didn’t have to talk as much. Eventually they stood before a massive round building. It reminded her of Citi Field where her father had taken her to see the New York Mets play baseball.
    â€œWhat is this place?” Kate breathed.
    â€œThe Royal Albert Hall,” Hal said. “Hurry up—this way.”
    They went up the steps and through a gilded door that opened onto red velvet carpets. Kate looked up at the high ceilings, feeling her heart lift with the quantity of fresh, light air. A man in a blue suit was standing in the lobby collecting tickets, and Hal pulled her around behind the line of people and up a narrow stairway to the left.
    â€œSshhh,”