” The driver called back. “Shit” Hannah whispered under her breath. There was no way she had enough for the fare.“What’s wrong love?” The ...river asked, on seeing her expression change.“I ... I don’t have enough cash on me.” She mumbled.“Not enough? We’re nearly there now,” he tapped on the meter, currently showing £14.60, “how the bloody hell do you expect to pay me love?”“I ... I don’t know ... maybe we can work something out?” Hannah’s day had officially gone from bad to worst day ever. She. .I was prepared to find the Chalmers Street launderette bulldozed into something new and unrecognisable, but it was still there, and the same old facade in yellow-grey London brick carried great emotional force.For this was where it had all started when I was a sulky sixteen, quarrelling with my father every weekend, and allowed to sit in that warm, steamy launderette, if I would help the manageress to tidy-up at closing. God knows she wasn't a beauty, all double chins and missing teeth, but. More

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