8 – The Soup

We parked the car around the corner from the depot. It was still on the business estate, but other than a few lorries in the morning and the rush hour times – we were relatively unseen.

The first day Ryan spent ‘ shoving boxes around ‘ but by the second day he was offered a job as a delivery driver.
7am til 7pm, for £7 an hour.

‘ Sevens my lucky number’ I laughed when he told me the details.

It was a months work in hand, so we’d be waiting a while for a cash injection. It’ll work out, I told myself. It had to.

We used half of our money to buy some tins of soup, the cheapest thing we could find at the local Tesco. And I devised a way to heat them up. Because cold, they were fucking rank.
Every day the heat would get up so high in that car, that I’d sit under a tree next to it, and leave three tins in the window. By 2pm, they’d be warm enough to eat.

It wasn’t ideal, but it did the job. And we told ourselves – it’s only til the end of the month.

 

soup.jpg
Ill never eat another tin of fucking Mulligatawny in my life…!
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