The tea did not truly warm them.
It only postponed the cold.
Harvey drew a deep breath and felt the heavy dampness settle in his lungs. For a moment, sitting beside the weak fire among the others, he felt closer to them than to the rest of the world.
Yet he knew how fragile everything was.
The fire.
The tea.
The laughter.
In the Tube, the law was written nowhere. It was simply survived, one day at a time.
As long as they still had the steam from a cup of bitter tea and a flame that had not yet gone out, they could carry on.
At least for one more day.
And in the Tube, one more day was already a victory.
Discover The London Tube and read the first three chapters free at www.thelondontube.co.uk
