Morning, Sovereign, you OK?’ yelled Stephanie. The site manager had to shout to make herself heard above the noise of the scrapyard.
A large, unshaven man threw a heavy arm into the air in response. ‘Yeah, not bad!’ he called back.
Stephanie watched as he crossed the yard, which had recently been turned into a quagmire by heavy rains. The sun had only just risen, and it did little to warm the cool September air.
Sovereign kept his head down as he splashed his way towards the wooden tea hut. He opened the green door and, once inside, he turned on a little heater mounted on the wall. The fan whirred into life and the smell of burning dust indicated it was heating up. Sovereign began making a cup of tea.
He was in early again, and he sat down at a table which afforded him a good view of the piles of scrap metal outside. His drink steamed on the table as he
