Chapter 732: Life in London
London, England – The East End
At the entrance of Westford Street, a narrow road reeking of fish and sewage, a seven-year-old boy ran toward "Flying Star Confectionery".
Seeing that there were only about 200 people in line, he hurried to join the queue.
He had already searched every other sugar shop in the East End—this was the shortest line he had found.
As the queue moved forward, the boy stretched his dirty little neck, eagerly peering inside the shop.
Through the crowd, he spotted several jars behind the counter, each labeled with a "subsidized" sign.
His face lit up.
After waiting for nearly an hour and a half, he finally reached the front of the line.
Wiping his nose, he pulled his oversized coat—clearly altered from an adult's clothing—tight around him and handed a small wooden box to the shopkeeper.
"Mr. Miller, I'd like six ounces of coarse sugar."
The fat shopkeeper tilted the last ceramic jar, sighing.
"You're in luck, Andy," he said. "There's still five ounces left."
Just as he was about to pour the sugar into the boy's box, a greasy, middle-aged man shoved Andy aside and snatched the box away.
"I'll take all five ounces," he growled.
Andy looked up at the man, his face pale, but stood his ground at the counter.
Miller blocked the jar and told the man, "Sir, this boy was here first."
"He cut in line," the man snapped.
He grabbed Andy by the collar and flung him backward.
"See? Just like that."
"You can't—!"
The man slammed a few coins onto the counter.
"Five ounces of sugar. No arguments. I'll pay you an extra penny."
Miller glanced at Andy but silently took the money and poured the sugar into a paper bag.
Satisfied, the man walked off.
Andy rushed forward, tears welling in his eyes, only to see Miller remove the "subsidized" sign from the counter.
Behind it, a new sign read:
"Coarse Sugar – 1 Shilling, 1 Penny per Half Pound."
Andy broke into sobs.
The government's subsidized sugar had been priced at 9 pence per half pound—already twice as expensive as last year, but still 4 pence cheaper than the normal price.
He only had 7 pence.
He had planned to buy six ounces, but now, he couldn't even afford four.
Wiping his tears, he pleaded:
"Mr. Miller, please… Can you sell it to me at the old price?"
Miller sighed. "The government only provides 300 pounds of subsidized sugar per week—it's already sold out. I can't afford to take a loss."
Suddenly, the restless crowd behind him surged forward.
"We want subsidized sugar!"
"This is too expensive—why aren't you selling at the old price?"
"Greedy bastard! Let's take it ourselves!"
"Yeah, let's teach him a lesson!"
Miller panicked and tried to shut the doors, but several people had already forced their way in, eyes locked onto the sugar jars.
"Toot—!"
A sharp whistle sounded from across the street.
Several policemen, wielding clubs, rushed toward the scene.
But they were too late—seven or eight jars had already been snatched, and one had shattered on the ground.
The officers beat several troublemakers and arrested one man, finally dispersing the angry mob.
Miller, cursing loudly, bent down and carefully scraped the spilled sugar off the floor.
Sugar was so expensive now that if not for government subsidies, he could never sell it at 9 pence per half pound.
Andy, knocked down in the chaos, had been trampled on his leg.
He limped home, crying even harder.
The Struggles of a Dockworker's Family
Two hours later, Andy hobbled into his home, still clutching his empty wooden box.
A woman frying potatoes barely glanced at him.
"Took you long enough!" she muttered.
Then she saw the empty box—
Her face instantly twisted with rage.
"Where's the sugar?! You useless brat! Why didn't you buy any?!"
"The subsidized sugar was all gone…" Andy whimpered.
"You left at noon! You must've been slacking off somewhere!"
"I wasn't—"
She kept scolding him, then suddenly slumped onto a stool, tears welling in her eyes.
Without sugar, she couldn't even make dinner.
The family would have to eat plain potatoes and black bread—and drink bitter, unsweetened tea.
Worse, her husband would have no sugar for his tea break tomorrow.
A dockworker couldn't survive a 14-hour shift on just bread and potatoes.
Only his afternoon tea, sweetened with sugar, kept him going until the end of the workday.
After crying for a while, she took the wooden box and bought four ounces of full-price sugar.
An Even Greater Blow
At 8 PM, her husband—exhausted, reeking of sweat, and covered in grime—staggered through the door.
Without changing, he collapsed onto the bed.
"Julie… is dinner ready?"
His wife hesitated, then handed him a glass of water.
"We… only have four ounces of sugar this week…" she murmured.
He sat up abruptly, frowning.
"But I gave you seven pence—what happened?"
After hearing the full story, he sighed deeply.
Pulling Andy close, he also patted his wife's shoulder.
"It's alright. Just hold on a little longer… Things will get better next week."
As he spoke, the door creaked open.
A thin, red-eyed girl, about twelve years old, stepped inside.
She looked at them for a moment—then burst into tears and hugged her mother.
"Mom… I was fired today."
The entire family froze.
Her father stood up immediately and grabbed her arm.
"Anna—what happened?"
"Mr. Parnell said business is bad, and he can't afford to pay me anymore… So he… let me go…"
Her mother's face paled.
"How is that possible?! Even a tea shop is struggling?!"
She had no idea that the soaring price of sugar had made it too expensive for most people.
And without sugar, the British wouldn't drink tea.
As a result, tea sales had plummeted.
Since the sugar crisis began, Parnell's shop had seen a 40% drop in business!
The family ate their bland meal in silence, their tiny home filled with despair.
Six days later, her husband collapsed at work from exhaustion.
His employer docked his wages by three days.
With Anna already jobless, losing those three days of pay was a crippling blow.
Without that money, they couldn't afford enough bread.
But their misfortune wasn't over.
As the economic crisis deepened, businesses began cutting wages.
Factories colluded to lower salaries, knowing the unemployed would work for less.
Finally, Andy's father received the dreaded news—
His monthly wage was being reduced from 1 pound, 12 shillings… to just 1 pound, 8 shillings.
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