"Franky" (Vicky Knight) is a nurse who can't shake the effects of a conflagration fifteen years earlier that left her slightly scarred physically but more so emotionally. Partly, that's because she reckons that her mum's pal "Jane" was responsible - but there's no proof. Anyway, unable to hold down any kind of meaningful relationship she cruises through life until she encounters "Florence" (Esme Creed-Miles). This is a bit of a bolt from the blue for her as she falls completely and the two abscond. Their time together is turbulent at times, but it does give them the opportunity to plot revenge. Is that what "Franky" really wants though? Has she just become so hard-wired that she can't learn to move on? Things begin to recalibrate when she discovers that her beloved nan "Alice" (Angela Bruce) has cancer and rather predictably, the histrionics all calm down and the story rather loses it's spark. Aside from a rather odious scene on a bus - which may well be based on true events in London - the rest of this is an unremarkable love story (it's in no way a romance) that follows a bunch of unlikable characters about whom I couldn't care less after about twenty minutes of stereotypical and foul-mouthed characterisations. The acting is fairly visceral, to be fair, but it's presented in pseudo-documentary style some of the time then in a more straightforward form of drama at others with neither really engaging. It's contrived coming of age stuff that's neither original nor vital, sorry.
