Angel Mine

Trina inexplicably was able to purchase a variety of things for Mac, and they left Harrods with an armful of shopping bags.

Bex didn't want to broach the topic of how on earth she could afford such things, given their recent interaction, but she was still curious. 

She was also completely off-kilter now. She hadn't realised that Trina would be so upset with her, or see her as a kind of poseur given her comparatively privileged upbringing.

"Credit cards," said Trina, out of absolutely nowhere. "If you were wondering."

"I could have purchased these items," complained Mac. 

"Well, I'm the one who brought us here and picked out everything," said Trina. "It's a small price to pay to save you from that purple nightie."

"I liked it."

"And you were going to wander around heaven in that thing?"

"Actually, in heaven I don't look anything like this at all."

Bex finally ventured a comment:

"You're sure taking the fact he's a literal angel in stride."

Trina's mouth was set in a hard line, which never bode well for anyone on the wrong side of it.

"Some of us adapt to our circumstances," she said.

Bex remained quiet after that.

Ten minutes later, Mac informed them that he was needed back 'at work' and vanished without a word. Two seconds after that, he reappeared and took the bags of clothing, thanked them profusely again, and disappeared.

Now Trina and Bex were standing on their own outside of the Tube station, Bex staring awkwardly at the ground.

"I never meant to - " she began, but Trina held up a hand.

"Save it, Bex," she said. "I have to go anyway, I'm going to be late for an appointment. Bye."

Bex just stood there and watched her go, disappearing into the station. She needed to take the Tube as well, but didn't think it was wise to accompany Trina in there, given how awkward she already felt and the general awkwardness of saying goodbye and then finding herself walking in the same direction or going to the same place, and this time she'd be doing so knowingly, so she desisted.

She decided to wander around Knightsbridge a little, taking a look at the various shops and the very fancy people scattered around the place.

How the other half lives, she thought, and while Trina may have been absolutely right about their relative privilege, this was a place beyond posh. 

But then again, that's what Trina's goals were, and Bex really couldn't fault her for wanting it. She'd been in Trina's house, growing up. The place was covered in black mould and freezing. Panes of glass were broken in the windows. She couldn't understand how Trina's dad lived like that. Even when they had wood for the fire it didn't matter much because there was no insulation and the windows let in the wind, which was very icy. But Bex supposed that people who were as fond of the drink as Trina's dad had been didn't really notice the cold, and would view paying for new windows or insulation as a waste of money that could be spent on other things, most importantly, beer.

When Trina's father had inevitably passed away due to his lifestyle, she'd discovered that he'd remortgaged the family home, and all that money was gone too, leaving Trina a penniless orphan. They'd always talked about London, and about getting out, but Trina spent an awful lot of time at Bex's house because of, well, everything. After Trina's dad's funeral, she had packed a bag and got on a train to London, never to look back at all. The bank repossessed the house, and fortunately Trina wasn't considered liable for any of it, but she'd never shown her face back in the town again. Eventually, Bex would follow her to London about a year and a half later, only to find her old friend miraculously changed. The girl with the torn clothing who had never known a moment of warmth that wasn't the summer or the hours spent in other houses had transformed completely into a beautiful young socialite, or so she seemed on the outside. Dress for the job you want was advice she had apparently taken to heart, and her little bedsit in a fashionable neighbourhood as well as adopting and aping the habits of the rich and famous brought her in line with if not in the presence of the people she so desperately wanted to join.

And the thing is, Bex was sure she'd achieve it. Trina had been the best sheepdog trainer in the town, as well as the county. She had a determination only rivaled by the border collies she trained. Someone with a mindset like that, fully intending on never setting foot in the world she came from again, would be successful in their endeavours if only by sheer force of will.

So Bex wandered around the area for about an hour or so, trying to learn this world that Trina so badly wanted access to, and understand something about the appeal and also how to get there. Despite their fighting, Bex couldn't lose Trina. Such a thought was totally unacceptable to her, even though they were somewhat opposite sides of the same coin. Bex with her punk patches on her leather jacket and her anarchy stuff and loud music, and Trina with her shoulderpads and fancy jewellery and upmarket brunches. Bex wasn't sure their ethics really aligned, given the whole fuck The Man thing the punk movement had going on, and Trina's insistence on the consumerist capitalist lifestyle by hook or by crook.

But Trina had been a friend for a long time, and Bex thought maybe she was right about the arrogance of someone from a more privileged home taking on the trappings of the punk movement. Not that it was impossible for anyone from anywhere to see the value of many beliefs associated with it, but Bex wanted to understand Trina, too, and not immediately follow her own anticapitalist kneejerk reaction. Because when someone was as poor as Trina had been, it was pretty rich, pardon the pun, to preach at them about whether or not they should want what creature comforts were available, if they were able to get them.

Knightsbridge was an interesting place, and definitely far cleaner than her own rundown neighbourhood. Bex could see the appeal in having clean and neat streets, and the houses were admittedly very beautiful.

She wondered if there was a way for the two of them to connect, somehow, despite their differences, given their long friendship - or whether it was one of those friendships that went by the wayside, what with age and change.

And then there was Mac, the wildcard among it all.

Trina seemed to have adapted to his existence as if there was nothing particularly out of the ordinary about having a real live angel as a friend. Bex supposed this was partly because of her upbringing, and her acceptance of anyone eccentric, because a poor girl can't really pick and choose who is willing to associate with her, unfortunately. Or whether it was the eccentricities of the rich, a circle to which Trina wanted to ascend, that made her so blasé about it.

Or maybe it was just Trina herself, who was as a rule kind and generous for all of the stated reasons, and she had no problems accepting others, even if they were supernatural.

Bex shook her head and smiled, then wondered why she was having such a hard time with Mac's existence. He seemed inordinately fond of her, but she wasn't sure why. She'd been nothing but rude to him from the get-go, and yet he seemed to appear around her exclusively. Maybe she was reading too much into it. Maybe he'd been assigned to her or something, like she'd heard about in stories. Maybe he wasn't an angel at all, but some other kind of creature masquerading as one, although that would not be any less weird. Maybe she should buy him a thank-you card, although for what, exactly, she wasn't sure. Thank you for ferrying that man's soul to the afterlife? Thank you for listening to Trina and not buying the purple nightie?

Maybe he had another mission altogether.

She'd have to ask him the next time he showed.

Then she closed her eyes, and remonstrated herself for thinking such foolish things. There was no telling whether he was ever going to show again. Might just be the weird experience of the day, and Bex could chalk it up to one of those London things. Some part of her very much wanted this to be true, while another part of her entirely insisted that people don't usually run into angels every day, in London or outside of it, and she should consider herself very lucky indeed.

She decided that enough time had passed since Trina had left, and headed for the Underground, leaving the good people of Knightsbridge behind her.