The two Scottish men led us round the rear of the closest semi-standing building to an old manhole. They lifted it open and started climbing down a ladder. Tabitha followed them first, then me. I pulled the manhole close and immediately felt much cooler.
They were waiting for me at the bottom, lit by torches at the side walls.
“Ye shud take some of dis, don wanna ya dying before we even get to no yous,” the blonde one spoke as he showed a flask in his hand.
“What is it?” Tabitha asked.
“Water.”
She slowly gulped it down, before handing it to me. I did likewise. It tasted like the best thing I had ever drank.
“Dis used to be a sewer.”
I stopped drinking to laughter from both men.
“Don worry, the water is from elsewhere. Follow us dis way.”
We walked along the tunnel for a few minutes. It was dry and dusty, and there was little evidence of its previous use. We heard chattering in the distance, then reached a large cavern full of people, tables, and their body odor.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“The East End,” came the reply.
We were then led through the throng of people to an enclosed area with chairs and a table.
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