Willows Reach Print

The Willow’s Reach sits snug under the shadow of the viaduct, where the rumble of passing trains rattles glasses on the bar. A step up from Harrowden’s rougher boozers, it’s a haunt for shop keepers, clerks, foremen, and those with just enough coin to drink somewhere with curtains on the windows. Its sign, a weeping willow drooping over still water, swings gentle in the wind, its brass letters dulled with time. Inside, it’s warm with dark wood, polished brass, and a steady murmur o’ voices. The ale’s decent, the whisky better…