Chapter 731: Life in London
Britain.
East London.
At the corner of Westford Street, dilapidated and smelling strongly of fish, a boy of seven or eight hurried to the front of the "Flying Star Confectionery", glancing at the queue of "only" about two hundred people, and quickly joined the end of the line.
He had already been to all the sugar shops in the East End, and this one had the shortest line.
The queue advanced slowly, and the boy occasionally poked his grimy little head out, gazing hopefully at the shop.
He could vaguely make out a few jars still on the dark brown "subsidized" counter, and a happy smile appeared on his face.
Finally, after queuing for a full hour and a half, the boy reached the front of the shop.
He wiped his nose, tightened his oversized jacket, clearly repurposed from an adult's clothes, and handed his small wooden box to the shopkeeper:
“Mr. Miller, I’d like six ounces of raw sugar.”
Just as he was about to pour the sugar from the jar into the boy’s wooden box, a middle-aged man whose clothes were covered in grease and mud reached out and pushed the wooden box aside, declaring in a gruff voice:
“I’ll take all five ounces.”
Andy looked up at the man nervously, but he gritted his teeth and stood firm at the counter, unwilling to yield an inch.
Mr. Miller covered the sugar jar and said to the middle-aged man:
“Sir, the boy was here first.”
“He cut the line,” the middle-aged man said impatiently, picking Andy up and tossing him behind him. “See? Like that.”
“You can’t...”
The middle-aged man slammed a few coins onto the counter:
“Five ounces of raw sugar! Stop stalling, I’ll give you an extra penny.”
The shopkeeper glanced at Andy, silently took the money, and poured the sugar into the man’s paper bag.
The man left, satisfied. Andy quickly stepped forward, only to see the shopkeeper remove the "subsidized" sign, revealing the price tag behind it: "Raw Sugar: 1 shilling and 1 pence per half pound".
Andy immediately burst into tears.
The government-subsidized sugar price was nine pence per half pound, which, although more than double last year’s price, was still four pence cheaper than the regular price.
He only had seven pence in his pocket, which would have been enough for six ounces of sugar, but now he couldn't even buy four ounces.
He wiped away his tears and pleaded with the shopkeeper:
“Mr. Miller, please, can you sell it to me at the subsidized price?”
The latter sighed. “We only get three hundred pounds of subsidized sugar each week, and it’s all gone. I can’t sell it to you at a loss.”
Dozens of people still queuing behind him swarmed forward with a shout, their shouts becoming a cacophony:
“We want subsidized sugar!”
“This is too expensive! Why aren’t you selling it at the subsidized price?”
“You crook! Don’t be polite to him, everyone, let’s go in and take it!”
“That’s right, teach this profiteer a lesson!”
The shopkeeper was startled, and rushed to close the door, but some people still managed to squeeze in, their eyes fixed on the sugar jars on the shelves.
“Toot!”
Just then, a sharp whistle pierced the air from across the street. A few police officers, waving their truncheons, quickly ran over.
Their actions were a little slow, however; seven or eight jars of sugar had already been snatched, and one jar lay shattered on the ground.
The police thoroughly beat several of the troublemakers and arrested one person; only then did the crowd disperse with a clamor.
The shopkeeper cursed loudly, while carefully scooping up the spilled sugar from the ground, bit by bit. Sugar was so expensive on the market now that if the government didn't subsidize it, he couldn't possibly sell it for nine pence a half pound.
Andy, who had been pushed over by the sugar snatchers, and had his leg heavily stepped on several times, cried even harder.
Two hours later, the boy limped home, clutching his small wooden box.
As soon as he stepped through the door, the woman frying chips inside shouted without turning around: “There you are, finally!”
But when she saw the empty wooden box, she suddenly shrieked, “Where’s the sugar? You useless boy, why didn’t you get any?!”
“All the subsidized sugar in the shops was sold out...” the boy sobbed.
“You went to queue at noon! You must have been slacking off somewhere!”
“I wasn’t...”
The woman cursed for a while longer, then suddenly slumped onto a wooden stool, dejected, and started to wipe away her own tears.
Without sugar, she couldn't even make dinner tonight.
The family would have to eat bland chips and black bread, and drink bitter tea.
Worse still, her husband wouldn’t have sugar for his tea break tomorrow...
He was a dockworker, and merely bread and chips wouldn't give him the strength to work fourteen consecutive hours.
Only by replenishing himself with sweetened tea in the afternoon could he make it until quitting time.
She cried for a while, then picked up the wooden box again, and went out to buy four ounces of sugar at the regular price.
At eight o’clock that evening, the man, unshaven and reeking of sweat, returned home. Ignoring the various stains on his clothes, he wearily collapsed onto the bed, and asked weakly: “Julie, is dinner ready?”
The woman hesitated, handing him a glass of water, and whispered: “We... we only have four ounces of sugar this week...”
The man abruptly sat up and exclaimed urgently: “What happened? Didn’t I leave you seven pence?”
After the woman explained the situation, he frowned and let out a long sigh. He pulled his son, who looked as if he’d committed a grave error, closer, then patted his wife, “It’s alright, we’ll get through this. Things will be better next week.”
As he was speaking, a girl of twelve or thirteen, wearing a coarse cloth headscarf, pushed the door open and entered. Her eyes were red-rimmed as she glanced at the three people in the room, then she threw her arms around the woman and burst into tears: “Mama, I was fired from the shop...”
The entire family was stunned.
The man stood up and held her, asking: “Anna, what happened?”
“Mr. Parnell said business has been bad recently, and he can’t afford to pay me anymore, so... boo-hoo.”
The woman was aghast. “How is that possible? Even a tea shop?”
She had no idea that the skyrocketing price of sugar meant many people couldn't afford it anymore. And since the British typically put sugar in their tea, tea sales had plummeted without it.
Parnell’s shop had seen its sales drop by forty percent since the sugar crisis began!
The family ate their meager dinner, and the small house was filled with a somber, gloomy atmosphere.
Six days later, the man indeed fainted from exhaustion while moving cargo at the docks. His employer, without allowing for argument, docked three days from his wages.
This dealt a heavy blow to the family, who were already struggling to make ends meet.
With their eldest daughter out of work, and now losing three days of wages, they wouldn't be able to buy enough bread.
Misfortune never came alone, and soon, an even worse situation befell them.
As the wave of company bankruptcies triggered by the London Gas Streetlights incident continued to unfold, unemployment surged. Naturally, capitalists wouldn't miss this 'golden opportunity'.
All factories, as if by prior agreement, began to cut workers' wages.
There were plenty of unemployed people outside, after all. 'If you don't like the low wages, clear out,' they implied, 'someone else will gladly do the work.'
Andy’s father also received notice from his employer that his wages would be reduced from one pound, twelve shillings per month, to one pound, eight shillings.
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