Angela was a good girl when she was younger. Blond-haired and blue-eyed, her parents were often congratulated on how polite, kind and thoughtful she was.
As she grew into her teenage years, and her dad left home, that all changed. She became a force of nature, questioning everything, refusing to get out of bed, staying out late at night.
It was a difficult period for her mum, who was now working three jobs to make ends meet and rarely home. She did what she could, but Angela, or ‘Angie’, as she now preferred to be called, was out of control.
It was no surprise to anyone when she upped and ran away to London just before her 16th birthday. Packed a bag, jumped on a train and left a hastily scrawled note on the kitchen table saying that she’d left to find herself.
But like many teenage runaways, all she really found was dirty streets and people that wanted to take advantage of her. She spent nights awake under stained blankets, petrified that she would be bundled into a van and forced into prostitution. And then during the day whilst she tried to sleep, she’d be kicked and trodden on by passers-by.
As the days wore on and her situation worsened, she became paranoid and distrustful, especially of men. Her life, which was once so promising, felt wasted.
So, one night, as she was cold and shivering lying on a cardboard sheet with her stomach painful from hunger, she decided to go home.
She didn’t have any money for a train ticket, but you get to know the tricks when you’re homeless and she found it easy to follow someone through the barrier at Kings Cross to get to the platform. She hopped onto the train and found a quiet spot to settle down in for the journey, mentally crossing her fingers that there wouldn’t be a ticket collector on her train.
When her mum opened the door to her that evening, she almost fell over with shock and relief. She’d aged since she last saw her, the grey hairs now a consistent feature rather than one-off stragglers, but Angie knew from the look on her face that she was happy to have her home.
She’d fussed around her non-stop in that first week back – constantly offering cups of tea and biscuits, letting her choose what to watch on TV, tiptoeing around in the mornings to let her sleep in. She even gave up one of her jobs to spend more time with her. Said she was nearing retirement anyway, and they could cut back on a few bits.
Angie felt guilty. She’d been the one that ran away and caused the pain, and yet here her Mum was, not judging her, not yelling at her, giving her everything she asked for. She didn’t deserve it. Not really. She had a lot of making up to do.
The problem was that there didn’t seem to be anything that she could do in return. Mum always said she had everything she needed – apart from a new man, but that wasn’t something that she could help with – and there was nothing she wanted.
Unless…
—————–
She hadn’t fully adjusted to sleeping through the night yet, despite her bed now having a mattress topper that make it feel like she was lying on a cloud, so when she crept out of the house at 2am, she felt wide awake.
One of the few benefits of being homeless in London at night was the feeling of invincibility she felt from walking around the streets when everyone else was in bed. She’d begun to prefer it to the daytimes. The darkness enveloped you and let you explore without feeling that there were eyes watching you, judging you.
Which meant that Angie felt calm and relaxed as she made her way into town through alleyways and across the park until she arrived at the George and Dragon pub on Easterly Street. She’d spotted it as they drove past in the car on the way to Sainsbury’s the other day, noticing the board outside listing out the upcoming football and rugby fixtures that they were showing inside.
And on the side of the pub, attached to the wall about twenty feet up, was a satellite dish. Now that, she had thought to herself, was something that her Mum needed.
Sky TV.
Not for the sport. But for that new series she wanted to watch, with thingamajig who was in that film a few years ago. It wasn’t really Angie’s thing, but she remembered her mentioning more than once as they washed up the pots together.
She’d never sign up for it herself though. No, she’d go without and spend it on Angie instead. Or on the dog. It was the most frustrating thing about her. She’d never treat herself, even if she really wanted it. Always putting others first.
Well, this time Angie thought, it was her turn to get something nice.
As quietly as she could, she repositioned the large commercial waste bin next to the wall under the dish. She climbed up on top and reached upwards to the satellite receiver. Yes, she could just about manage it. From out of her jacket pocket, she took a screwdriver she’d found earlier that day in the bits and pieces drawer in the kitchen and started to undo the screws holding it in place.
“Ow!!” she said loudly, as the dish suddenly fell sideways and hit her on the head as the last screw holding it in place fell out. Warily, she grabbed hold of it as it was swinging and bouncing of the wall with both hands and attempted to lower it down to the bin she was standing on. It didn’t quite reach, a wire coming out of the wall and attached to satellite prevented it from dropping all the way down.
“Bugger” she said quietly to herself. She looked around for something she could use to cut the wire. There was nothing obvious. She jumped down off the bin to see if she could find something inside, but landed awkwardly, falling over as she did so.
As she lay on the ground, she felt a presence above her. She turned and looked up slowly and saw a man cloaked in shadow looking down at her.
“Need a hand?” he asked with his hand raised out to help her up.
“I’m fine, thanks,” Angie replied, standing up quickly and dusting herself down. She tried to act as innocent as she could, aware that just behind her, a satellite dish was hanging off the wall.
“What are you doing?” the man asked.
“Nothing” she replied sullenly. “Just…looking around”. She felt a sinking feeling, disappointed that she couldn’t come up with anything better on the spur of the moment.
“Why’s that hanging off the wall?” he said, pointing up at the dish.
“That?” she replied innocently, turning round to look. “Oh, I’d not noticed it.” It was swaying gently, tapping occasionally against the wall.
The man put his hand in his pocket and brought out a knife. Angie froze. She looked left and right quickly. She was hemmed in, no chance to run for it. She’d have to make the first move.
“I think you need this” he said, offering the knife to her.
“Wha…what?” she stammered.
“To cut it down,” he said. “You need to cut the wire to get it off the wall, right?”
“Oh. Right,” she said. “Yes. Thank you. Erm, thanks”.
She reached out and gingerly accepted the knife from him, still in fight or flight mode. Was this real, she thought? Am I asleep and back in bed? Maybe that mattress topper really was too good to be true.
Slowly, and keeping one eye looking back over her shoulder, she turned round and then clambered back up onto the bin. Using the knife, she cut the wire holding the dish to the wall and struggled to hold it up as it finally dropped off the wall. It was heavier than it looked.
“Here, give it to me” the man said, holding out his hands to help her. She put it down on the bin lid and rolled it over to him. He picked it up, making it look like it didn’t weigh a thing.
She jumped back down off the bin, not falling over this time. He offered her the dish.
“It’s heavier than I thought” she said, as she made a poor attempt to take it back.
“It’s okay, let me carry it”, he said. “Where are you off to?”
“Well…” Angie responded casually. “Off home I guess.”
“I’ll help you if you like?” he said. “Which way is it?”
She paused. She’d spent too long in London avoiding bad situations to just accept this at face value. But oddly, she felt at ease.
“Wait a minute,” she said, “who are you?”
“Oh, silly me” he replied. “I’m Brian. Nice to meet you”. He held out a hand, managing to balance the dish he was holding in the other.
How strong was he? Angie thought, as she reached out and shook his hand.
“Angie,” she declared. “What are you doing here?”
“I just like walking round at night” Brian said. “I’m an insomniac. Can’t sleep, so I tend to go for a walk. I don’t usually meet many people out at this time though,” he stated pointedly. “And definitely not many people trying to cut satellite dishes off walls.”
“Ah. Erm, yes” Angie stuttered. “Anyway, let’s get going, shall we?” and she pointed down the road towards the junction, before quickly setting off.
Brian stared for a second and then ran down the road after her.
————
“Well, this is me,” Angie said as she slowed to a stop and gestured towards a small, terraced house with a red door.
“Thank god,” said Brian under his breath as carefully put the satellite dish on the ground. “You really do live a very long way away. How on earth did you think you were going to get it home? We’ve been walking for hours.”
“I did take a detour or two,” she replied. “Just to make sure we weren’t followed.”
She blushed as she told the lie out loud. In truth, she’d been enjoying Brian’s company too much and the conversation had flowed easily, so she’d taken the liberty of taking a very long route home. Not that he’d seemed to mind.
And whilst she felt bad that he’d carried the dish all the way, they had sat on a bench in the park for a while, watching the ducks drift around the pond as they slept.
Apart from her Mum, it was the first company she’d had since she’d arrived back home. She didn’t want to fall back into old habits, so she hadn’t reconnected with any of her old gang, and the last few months in London had been lonely, especially during the nights.
“Can I ask a question?” Brian asked.
“Have you not asked enough?” she responded. “I think you must know my entire life story by now.”
“Oh’ he said. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s fine,” she replied quickly. “No-one has asked me anything nice for a long time.” She nodded towards the window on the first floor. “Except Mum. What do you want to know?”
“I was just wondering,” Brian probed, “what you were planning on doing with the satellite dish.”
Angie hesitated.
“Only, most people that get Sky have an engineer to put a dish up for them,” he said. “And, you know, it’s not very often that they lose them, once they’re up that is.”
He paused.
“Although the George and Dragon pub seems to have that very unlikely problem right now. So I guess it does happen.”
“Yeah, we, erm, we couldn’t afford the engineer,” Angie blustered.
“I see,” said Brian.
He paused again.
“You do have a box, don’t you?”
“What sort of a box?”
“A Sky box.”
“A Sky box?”
“Yes, a Sky box. To receive the satellite signal. To let you choose the channel you want to watch on the TV.”
“Do you…have…to have one of those?” Angie asked.
“Yes.” Brian replied bluntly. “It doesn’t really work without it.”
“Does it not just plug into the TV?” Angie asked pleadingly.
Brian held up the cut cable and looked at it pointedly.
“Even if it did work like that, I’m not sure this would help matters.”
Angie looked crestfallen.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Brian said, comfortingly as tears started to appear at the corners of Angie’s eyes.
“No, it’s okay,” she said, wiping her face. “I was just…just trying to do something right for a change.” She brushed a tear aside. “And, as usual, I’ve messed up.”
“Well, it was a nice thought,” Brian offered, “and most of the time, that’s the most important thing.”
They stood in silence for a minute.
“Do you know what I think?” Brian eventually asked.
“That I’m stupid?” Angie responded dejectedly.
“No, completely the opposite, “Brian said. “But more importantly, what I think is that your Mum doesn’t need anything that you can buy for her. I think that the only thing she really needs is you. And even though I don’t know her, I think that is more than enough.”
He reached around and gave her a hug. She flinched instinctively but caught herself and relaxed a little into his embrace.
“Besides,” he said. “This really isn’t going to work. Not without a box, a cable and a subscription to a TV package.”
She sighed.
“Bugger,” she said.
————
“Who wants a night-time tea?” Angie’s mum asked as she got up from her chair.
“Yes, please,” said Brian.
“Me, too,” said Angie. “Do you want a hand?”
“No, you two lovebirds stay there on the sofa. I need to stretch my legs; I’ve been sitting down far too long. Anyone want a biscuit to go with it? I bought some chocolate Hobnobs. The McVitie’s pack, not the cheap Tesco ones.”
“Ooooo, wouldn’t say no.” Brian replied rubbing his hands in anticipation.
Angie’s mum left the lounge and went into the kitchen, humming happily to herself as she went.
“Do you think she likes it?” she whispered to Brian.
“I think it’ll take her a while to get used to all the channels,” he replied, also whispering. “But she loves it, you can tell.”
“I hope she does.”
“And it’s even better because you’re paying for it,” Brian reminded her. “Though the sports channels would have been nice.”
Sune punched him playfully on the arm. “Don’t get greedy, you!”
“Alright, alright, it was a bit of an ask,” he conceded. “And £30 extra a month is daylight robbery.”
“Probably better than night-time robbery though,” Angie said, laughing. “Talking of which, after our tea and biscuits, do you fancy a walk to the park?”
“At this time of night?” Brian replied in a faux shock. “I thought we were normal people, now.”
‘Not a chance,” she said.
“In that case, of course I would.”