She never received a reply.

She closed the tablet. For the rest of the journey, she watched the real world through the window: a heron standing in a flooded field, a child waving from a footbridge, a sky the color of old pewter. None of it required a license agreement. That evening, she wrote to ITVX customer support. Not an angry letter. A clear one.

“No, Gran. Not truly.”

He did not.

That was the word she held onto. Download.

Martha squinted. The arrow was tiny. Hostile, even. But she practiced. She downloaded three episodes of Midsomer Murders and one documentary about Victorian sewers (a niche interest she did not advertise). The tablet said: Downloaded. Available offline.

The Last Train to Watford

She called Leo.