The next morning, the street kids dubbed the van "The Sugarplum Express," and Timothy never let the van’s engine go cold, ensuring the sweetness of London was delivered, no matter the fog.
"It’s impossible, Tim," the baker sighed, looking at the dense yellow fog clinging to the cobblestones. "No one can navigate the docks in this." Jacob London - Sugarlump
With headlights barely cutting through the gloom, Timothy steered Jacob London through the treacherous streets. The van rattled and whined, passing silent, imposing warehouses. Twice, they nearly took a wrong turn into the freezing Thames, but the van’s familiar gears seemed to know the way better than Tim did. The next morning, the street kids dubbed the
Suddenly, a crate of fine granulated sugar slid in the back, threatening to break. Tim had to stop, quickly bracing it with his own body, shivering in the cold. But he didn't stop for long. The van rattled and whined, passing silent, imposing