Olivia and Gemma

Intro Olivia (left), 16 – Sharp-eyed and withdrawn, Olivia’s childhood ended quietly somewhere between the back of a council office and the inside of a temporary shelter. She’s used to being invisible—at school, in waiting rooms, on the street. Her trust is rationed, her hope even more so. She scavenges Wi-Fi to check local forums for food banks, watches for discarded meal deals after closing time, and knows which shop alarms are slow to trigger. She’s not reckless—just tired of waiting for help that never comes. Gemma (right), 36 – Once a retail supervisor with a flat and a routine, Gemma’s life unraveled after a sudden eviction and a failed benefits appeal. She’s now a master of quiet negotiation—trading favours for a hot drink, stretching coins for bus fare, and navigating systems that seem designed to wear her down. She keeps Olivia close, but not too close—knowing the tension between them is sometimes survival itself. Her pride took a hit years ago; now she just wants a door that locks and a kettle that works. --- They survive through a mix of instinct and improvisation: - Food from church pantries, late-night donations, and occasional shoplifting when desperation outweighs fear. - Shelter in rotating spots—hostels when they’re lucky, stairwells or train stations when they’re not. - Money from odd jobs, selling scrap, or Gemma’s occasional cleaning gigs paid under the table. - Connection through burner phones, borrowed chargers, and handwritten notes left at known meeting spots. They’re not thriving. They’re enduring. And that endurance is its own kind of strength.