Jennifer Donnelly

The scent of Indian tea - black, crisp, and malty - was intoxicating. It floated out of Oliver's, a six-story wharf on the Thame's north bank, and wafted down the Old Stairs, a flight of stone steps that led from Wapping's winding, cobbled High street to the river's edge. The tea perfume overdepower the other smells of the docks - the sour stench of the mud bank, the salty tang of the river, and the warm, mingled scent of cinnamon, pepper, and nutmeg drifting out of the spice wharves.