Ste did wonder would he ever get over that first feeling of anxiety when the camera turned on to him. He had done his show almost a year now, and he still was freaking out every time, worrying he would say something stupid or inappropriate while on live TV. He wondered did the viewers see his greetings as awkward as he felt when he said them, trying to picture all the people in front of their tellies watching his every more and yet talk to the camera lenses like they were his best mates.

But then, soon as he started his cooking, his nerves were suddenly calm, because that was what he knew he was good at. He knew how to treat the ingredients, how thin to cut his veggies so they would cook fast, how long to keep them on a pan, how much seasoning the fish needed – it was all as natural to him as breathing. Born to be a chef, Tony has said, and Ste knew it was true. And talking got easier too once it was the food he was talking about, explaining what he was doing and why.

Weirdly enough, people seemed to love what he did. He got loads of messages from the viewers, asking more tips or requesting a recipes for him to do. Some more personal messages too, from eager fans who thought he was cute, or handsome, or funny. He didn't mind reading those, although it did make him feel strange that someone would see him and think about him like he did when he was watching his favorite celebrity from his own TV. Most of the messages were encouraging and kind, innocent.

Most of them.

Ste almost lost the train of his thoughts but managed to finish his dish without too much stumbling. Once he had plated the tuna steak and it's sides on the plate he looked the camera in front of him and wished the viewers delicious day. It was kinda his catch phrase now, and at first it had seemed funny but now he was wishing he would never have to say it ever again.

Light on the camera went off and the world came back to him again. He could see all the staff running around on set, getting ready for the next bit after a break. Mitzeee, the presenter of the gossip slash style section was standing next to a camera man and gave Ste a big smile and thumbs up.

Ste started to clean up his mess but instantly there was a few extras who took over, so he gave up and wiped his hands clean in a towel and walked to Mitzeee who was clearly wanting to have a word.

"Hiya Mitz. You look gorgeous."

"Well thank you" Mitzeee gave him a kiss on a cheek. "You look very nice yourself. And the camera loves you."

"You were watching the whole time? Did my intro go well?" It had been Mitzeee he had to thank about this job – She had been a regular guest at Tony's and became pretty familiar with both Tony and Ste. Once Jack, the previous chef in the morning TV's cooking section had announced his departure Mitzeee had suggested the 'adorable, down to earth chef' she knew to take his place. Ste hadn't been sure at first, but the crew seemed to like him during their test shoots, and the pay was amazing from the small hours he had to work in front of the camera, so he had agreed. He still did work with Tony too, but dreamed that with the savings he got from the TV work he might be able to open up his own place soon.

"Oh you are a star." She took his arm and started to walk him away from set and towards the dressing rooms. "And it doesn't matter if you look shy in front of a camera, people like that, it makes you someone they can identify with."

"Yeah? I was worried that I might have lost it, I had hard time focusing today."

"Trust me, it went well." She looked at him and what ever she saw in his face made her stop where they were. "Ste? Sweetie, is everything okay?"

"Yeah." Then it seemed pointless to hide it, specially from Mitzeee. She had more experience from fame, maybe she would know what he should do. "Well, no. I got another one."

Mitzeee was frowning. "Another? You mean... Another letter? What did it say?"she asked when Ste nodded his head.

"Well... I don't know if I'm just overreacting but... I just don't... It just don't feel right." He was playing with his sleeve, nervous.

"Can I see it?"

"If you want. It's in my dressing room."

They didn't speak before they reached the small room Ste had to himself to change his clothes. There was only a small couch, a cabinet to his clothes and a table in front of a mirror. On the table he kept the flowers his fans sometimes sent to him, and the letters he got from the mail, although most of the messages he got through social media and email.

He reached for an envelope which was laying away from the other post and handed to Mitzeee. She took the letter inside it, opened it and started to read. Her frown was getting deeper, while Ste was watching her reactions and biting his nails.

"Well, this really seems very detailed. And it is bit creepy. Maybe it's just some weirdo who has nothing else to do than send his delirious fantasies to guy he fancies." Mitzeee tried to smile at him but Ste could tell she was disturbed too. "You can always ask one of the staff to go through your fan mail first, and get rid of letters like these so you don't have to see them."

"The staff? No, Mitzeee, you don't get it." Ste took the envelope from her hand and turned it so she could see the address. "This came into my home. Like the two before it."

"But... How is that possible? None of our address is shared in public by the TV company, they are very strict about that." Mitzeee looked alarmed. Few moments they just stood there in silence. Ste could feel the panic rising inside him. Mitzeee was staring at the envelope like it could give her answers. Then she swallowed and nodded almost to herself. She gave Ste a steady, assuring look. "Right, I know what we will do."

::::::

Ste couldn't help but feeling a bit paranoid when he stepped on Mitzeee's car few hours later after she had finished her bit on the show. They left the station through the back door which lead to private parking lot where the stars had their vehicles, so Ste didn't have to face any of his fans today. He was still watching the street when they drove through the gates on the road, trying to see if there was anyone suspicious looking in the crowd which hanged around the tv station. Maybe that was a sign that what Mitzeee had suggested was a good idea.

"Are you okay?" She asked when they had drove for a while and Ste hadn't said anything. "You are awfully quiet."

"I'm dead nervous, Mitz. I'm not like, used to this. I still can't believe that I work on a telly, and now I have some mad person knowing my address." He sunk lower in his seat, staring the road ahead but hardly seeing it, only imagining all kind of creepy guys hanging around his apartment. "And you want me to meet up this guy, right, and I have to choose do I want some creeper on me tail or have a random bloke following me around as a protection."

"He's not a random bloke" Mitzeee said kindly. "He used to help me when I was starting my career and had a bad experience with my ex. He's a good friend of mine, I owe him a lot. Wait till you meet him, he's going to know what we should do. Trust me, he's good."

"Okay." Ste still wasn't convinced. 'Body guard' sounded such drastic measures and he was feeling like he was overreacting. But Mitzeee had been sure that they should at least talk to this guy and ask for advice.

They drove a little longer, and Mitzeee was chatting away about her latest date with this footballer she was seeing, and managed to make Ste forget the letter and where they were going for a while. Until she pulled by the side of a building, "We're here", and the Ste got the cold feeling on his belly again.

They got out from the car and walked up the stairs from the side of the building to a landing with few apartment doors. Mitzeee stopped in front of the first one and rang the bell, while Ste was searching for the nearest escape. The door didn't look like it belonged to a security company, and Mitzeee seemed to sense his thoughts because she leaned closer.

"This is his home, not the office, " She said with a stage whisper "We thought it would be best to keep it as comfortable as possible, you know, for your nerves."

Before Ste could answer the door was opened and a man stepped out to greet them. Ste's first impression was that the guy looked massive; He was taller than him, and he had broad shoulders and biceps too by the way his blue shirt was almost bursting while trying to hold him in. He had a dark hair and beard, and Ste could spot some white hairs on there too. Not that the man looked old, he look healthy and strong, and very masculine in a way that turned the coldness in Ste's belly into a sudden rush of heat.

"Anne." Man greeted and it took a second for Ste to realise he was talking to Mitzeee.

"Hello Brendan." Mitzeee threw her arms around his shoulders, which looked like a task even with her high heels on. Her head barely reached his chin. The hug lasted only a few second but Ste could see there was real warmth in there, from both parties. Mitzeee, or Anne as Brendan has called her, took a step back and turned to Ste. "Ste, this is Brendan Brady. Brendan, this is Ste, and he's having a bit of a problem you might be able to help him with."

"Nice to meet you, Steven." Brendan said with a strong Irish accent while offered his hand and giving Ste a steady look. His eyes were very blue.

"Hiya." Ste swallowed and shook his hand. It was warm and Brendan's grip was firm. Secure. Suddenly Ste wasn't sure how long he had been holding on or how long they had been staring at one another. He quickly let go and started to play with his sleeves again.

"I guess you won't be interested to talk about your problem outside, so, please, come on in." Brendan step aside and made a gesture with his hand. Mitzeee smiled at him and walked in, so Ste had to follow. He was now nervous in a completely different way and he wasn't sure was he pleased or annoyed that Mitzeee was there, preventing him being alone with Brendan. He heard the door click closed behind them.

He look the flat in front of him, and it didn't really look like it would fit for a man like Brendan. It was a open plan, sofas in front of him as a lounge and he could see kitchen in the other end of the room. There was stairs leading to the second floor, where Ste assumed the bedroom was. But it was the use of colors that shocked him, lot of purples and pink, leopard print, flowers on a vase on top of the table. Then Ste realised that must be Brendan's wife, or girlfriend, who had decorated the place.

"This is Cheryl's flat." Brendan's voice was low next to his ear, making Ste jump. Somehow Brendan had managed to come stand next to him without him noticing and had probably seen the curious way Ste was looking around. Ste turned his head and was met with that blue gaze again, and a small, crooked smile. "My sister, Cheryl, I live with her. Saves me the trouble for looking a place of my own, because I'm often spending nights with my clients... Not that way, of course."

Ste left out a nervous laugh. It was clear the older man was trying to joke and make Ste more relaxed. Brendan indicated towards the sofas.

"Please, sit."

Mitzeee had already made herself comfortable and Ste went to sit next to him. Brendan sat on the sofa next to theirs, posing himself so that he was facing Ste.

"So, tell me about this problem of yours, Steven."

"It's just Ste." He took a deep breath. "So I don't know do you know, but, I work on a telly, the same channel as Mitzeee does, and I get fan mail and stuff, from people who like my bits. People send it in the studio because it's address is public, but mine isn't, so... Anyway, I have been getting some.. Weird mail. And the guy sending them has somehow found out my address, and has started to send them in my home."

"How many letters? How long?" Brendan's tone was calm and reassuring, he didn't look Ste like he was wasting his time. It encouraged him to go on.

"I've got three sent to my home. They are getting more frequent. I had few before, but those were delivered in the office, so he must have looked up my address. Maybe eight or nine in total. There might have been more, but I just thought they were some strange mail for eager fan, before it turned.. ugly."

"Ugly? How?"

Mitzeee nudged Ste's elbow. "Show him the letter, Ste."

Ste reached to his pocket and pulled out the envelope. He handed it to Brendan, who took it, took out the letter and read it. Ste was watching his expression when his eyes moved over the words, but it didn't change. Ste had only read it once himself, but he remembered every word well.

You looked so beautiful when you cut that raw meat. I hoped it would have been more fresh and bloody. Those knives of yours look so sharp and shiny. They would look nice against your skin.

I would love to lick your throat, taste the sweat and blood.

Brendan folded the letter, put it back in the envelope and turned it around in his hands, like trying to look marks of the sender in it.

"You crossed anyone's paths, Steven? Can you think of anyone who would want to scare you like this?"

"No. I have been wracking my brain but I can't imagine anyone who I know and who could do this."

"Did you say they have been turning more graphic with time? Can you remember when?"

"They were always very, eh, sensual. But the tone got more violent when I came out. Six months ago or so."

Ste had been debating with himself a long time wether or not to do it. He hadn't even thought people would care, he was just a bloody TV chef, spending 15 minutes on telly three times a week and a bit longer for Fridays, and he wanted people to focus on the food and not to him. But he had stalked some of the conversations on online and saw how people were questioning his sexuality or who he was dating, judging some bad pics some bored paparazzis had took of him when it had been a slow week with no bigger celebrities to follow. So he had decided to make it clear he was gay in one of the rare interviews he gave for a magazine. He had expected the nasty comments which took over for a while, but there was lot of support too, and some people even saying how he was inspirational and gave them the courage to come out.

Brendan had stopped moving, his eyes looking down to the envelope but it seemed like he wasn't really seeing it. Awful feeling was settling inside Ste's core.

"Is it a problem? Me being gay?"

Mitzeee was looking from him to Brendan and back. "I'm sure -"

"It doesn't matter to me what you are, except that you are my client and I'm going to keep you safe." Brendan cut her off and lifted his eyes to meet Ste's. "That is, if you want my services."

"You think this is so bad that I need it?" Ste was sinking lower in the sofa.

"They might be just some lonely person who has too much time in their hands, but it might still be a good idea if I follow the situation closely for a while. Maybe just follow you around at first for a couple of days, see if I can pick up some strange behavior around you. Then, if needed, I can become your full bodyguard. How does that sound?"

"Okay, yeah. It sounds good." It was impossible to look away from those eyes and in some weird way Ste felt a buzz knowing Brendan would be near him for at least couple days.

"Good. Well then, lets get some details from our contract on paper and get this official." Brendan stood up and Ste did the same. Brendan handed the letter back to him and when Ste took it, their fingers brushed together. Ste wasn't sure was he imagining or was Brendan's gaze suddenly more intense than earlier. "Steven. It's gonna be okay. I'm gonna look after you."

Ste had never felt so assured in his whole life.

::::::

It had been eight days now without any new letters. Ste hadn't expect any new ones so soon anyway, even when the letters had started to arrive more frequently lately there could still be two weeks of separation between them, just enough to lull Ste into believing there would be no more.

He hadn't seen Brendan in those six days, well, not properly anyway. Brendan had told him to go on with his life as normal, and that he or his co-worker, young lad named Joel, would be watching out of him from the distance. It would be best at first, he had said, to go on like everything was normal in case someone was indeed watching Ste. So Ste tried to act like nothing was wrong. He woke up, went to the TV station, did his show. He then either had a evening shift on Tony's or went to see Amy and the kids. It hadn't crossed his mind before that if someone was following him, he would know where the kids lived, and the idea that he might have lead some creep to them scared Ste to his core.

Knowing that Brendan was always around did make Ste feel a lot safer. He had seen glimpses of him here and there. On the morning when he got into his way to the station there was a black car he knew belonged to Brendan parked on a little way from his home. Once Ste saw him hanging around near the coffee shop across the studio. Another time when Ste took the kids in the park to play he spotted Brendan reading a newspaper in a bench near by. Glimpses of him on the street when Ste was moving from one place to another. Brendan always looked like he just happened to be there, but Ste had to wonder did anyone buy it; he seemed to be more striking than anyone else around him, with his tight shirts and dark beard, sometimes wearing his shades too. Or maybe it was just Ste, who could not stop looking even when he knew he should not pay any attention to him.

Each night, after Ste had locked himself into his apartment he'd got a call from Brendan. It was a short conversation, just Brendan going over anything he had noticed, but so far everything seemed to be fine. He hadn't spotted anyone following Ste, or any weird behavior outside the studio or around Ste's flat. Ste desperately tried not to sound disappointed when the call was nearing to it's end. Brendan's voice was nice and low on the phone, and the way he wished Ste a goodnight before ending the call sounded almost intimate, making it hard for Ste to try and get some sleep afterwards.

On Friday was the first day of Ste's photo shoot for his book. Studio has suggested it, for him to pick up some recipes people had loved or requested the most and make a book out of it. Jamie Oliver style, they had said. He hadn't been sure at first, he hated writing and had most of his recipes memoriezed in his head instead of having them written down, but the studio had it covered. They had made a deal with a publisher who had sent this american guy called Doug to work with Ste, basically writing everything down for him and give him some tips how to make things sound better on paper. It had been a long project, but now the text part was ready and it was time for the pictures. Publisher had arranged the photographer and some other crew members to come in Ste's flat early in the morning and Ste had informed Brendan that there was going to be a change in his usual schedule because of that.

It was exactly ten o'clock when Ste's doorbell rang, and it was Doug followed by group of other people, bags full of ingredients based on the ready recipes and all the technical stuff they needed for good lightning and such.

"How's my favorite client?" Doug greeted with his accent and beamed a bright smile towards Ste. He had spend many afternoons on Ste's living room chatting and writing down the ideas Ste had, and now lead rest of the crew to Ste's kitchen as he knew the place.

"Thanks. I'm cool, yeah. And you?" Ste tried not to feel awkward having all those people swarming around his kitchen, making things ready.

"Listen, Ste, I know this can be bit weird, but just focus on the cooking and let us take care of the rest. This group is very professional and know what they are doing, okay? Here, let me introduce you, that's Hannah, there's Joanie, they are gonna make sure you and the food look good, that's Simon, our photographer, those two setting on lights are Mark and Jem." Each people nodded to Ste while their names were mentioned, only Ste felt like he forgot them soon as he heard them. Doug placed his hand on Ste's shoulder for a second. "You okay to start?"

"Yeah. Yeah I am." Ste smiled nervously. He liked Doug, they had spent many hours together talking about what people would want to see, how Ste could give his own personal touch to the book so it wouldn't be just recipes people could easily find online.

"Good. So we were thinking we could start with these recipes, and see how long that takes, and then arrange the shoot for the other half after that, yeah? Sounds good? Okay people, let's get this show started!"

It was the same than with the live shows, the camera and lights were off-putting at first, but soon as he heated the pan and started to chop the veggies Ste relaxed and started to talk with the crew. They were joking while he cooked and he almost could pretend he wasn't been constantly filmed. Once the dish was ready it was placed on table where it was pictured from several different angles. With some dishes the photographer asked him to hold it, or pretend to eat it, but over all it wasn't as bad as Ste had thought. After every dish they all kinda had a nibble of it, and Ste loved to hear people saying how good the food was. He hadn't even realised what time it was until Doug said it was getting late and they should start to pack up their things.

"That went well." Doug said to Ste while others were cleaning up. "So we have our desserts and bakes left for the next time. Is Monday still good for you?"

"Yeah, no worries. This was quite fun actually. I like cooking for a real people, and not just for the cameras."

"Maybe you can cook for me sometimes." It seemed it just blurted out from Doug's mouth because he instantly turned red and he started to stare his shoes. "I didn't mean... I just think... If you'd like, to meet outside work it would, or I wouldn't mind."

Oh. Ste had thought Doug might be gay but he had no idea he was interested on him. It had been ages when anyone had asked him out. Ste's mind instantly drifted to Brendan, and how Doug was a complete opposite to him. He was a bit shorter than Ste was, and surely wasn't bursting any of his shirts with muscles like Brendan did. But Doug was funny and had made him laugh many times, and it seemed that he liked Ste, where as Brendan probably had ladies forming a line behind his front door.

"I'd like that too." He said. What harm would it done, to have a drink or a dinner with a guy who was nice? And the look of relief on Doug face was kinda cute. "Let's arrange something once the book project is ready?"

"Definitely." Doug smiled, and glanced the crew. "It seems like we're all set to leave you at your peace. I'll be in touch with the second shoot and with... other things."

"Sound's good." Ste said and walked the group to the door, said his goodbyes and closed the door, making sure to lock it. He had hardly taken a few steps when his phone buzzed. He saw Brendan's name on the screen and his heart jumped.

"Hello?"

"Okay, Steven? I assume the photo shoot is done now? You free for a wee chat?"

"Um, yeah, I have nothing now."

"Good. Can you meet me in the cafe, the one down the road?"

"Now?"

"If you don't mind."

"I'm on my way."

Ste almost ran to get his wallet and keys. Brendan hadn't sounded alarmed so he guessed there was nothing he should be worried about and he was curious what it was what Brendan wanted to talk him with. The street was nice and calm, and it had been one of Ste's priorities when looking for a flat. Something peaceful, with lot of parks around so he could take the kids out, but nothing too posh where he would feel completely out of place. He rushed down the street where the few stores and the cafe were, and he could see Brendan through the window, sitting on one of the tables with two cups of coffee in front of him. He was wearing a black sweater which looked just as tight on him that his shirts were. Ste's heart was pounding faster than it did moments ago when Doug was asking him out.

Brendan stood up when Ste stepped in, and offered his hand for a shake. Ste was disappointed when he eventually let go and gestured Ste to sit down opposite of him.

"Didn't know how you take your coffee, I should've ask. You can get the milk and sugar from the desk tho."

"Thanks." Ste took his cup to the front, added some milk and two sugars in. He could feel Brendan's eyes on him.

"I'll remember that next time." Brendan said casually and for a second Ste pictured them sharing coffees often in cafes like this. Then Brendan cleared his throat and leaned closer to him over the desk. "How have you been? Anything strange you have noticed?"

"No. Everything has been dead normal. Well, if you forget the fact that I have cameras on my face almost each day." Ste let out a nervous laugh and Brendan smiled at him.

"You must be used to it by now."

"Not really. I still can't believe this is all happening to me." Ste found it was safer to stare at his cup than look Brendan in the eye. "I still have my contract for couple of months but I've started to think I won't renew it. I have been thinking about leaving, I did already before but this... This has made me sure I don't want to go on."

"You shouldn't let this scare you." Brendan took a sip of his coffee. "Actually that's why I wanted to talk to you. I haven't seen anything strange for the whole week. No one is following you, well, only me, but I haven't seen no one who would trail you and intent to hurt you. I can go on for as long as you like, but at this point I think we should just boost your security system just in case and maybe go for a police that you have someone sending you nasty letters instead someone looking over you 24/7."

Ste was looking at him now, trying to battle with the feel of disappointment inside him. "You mean.. You don't want to go on working for me?"

"Like I said, it's up to you." Brendan leaned back on his chair and Ste couldn't read any emotion from his face. "At this point I don't know what else I can do, when the threat only lies on random letters."

"It's just, I have been feeling lot better this past week, when I have known you are watching over me." Ste realised how desperate he probably sounded. He started to stare at his mug again.

"Hey. Listen to me." Brendan was suddenly very close and Ste could feel his breath on his face when he spoke but didn't dare to look up. "I'm not abandoning you. I'm just saying what I think we should do now, in this particular situation. If it changes, if there's something new, then we rethink it, yeah? You can always, always call on me if you need to. Okay?"

Ste managed to nod his head. He heard Brendan mutter good lad under his breath before drinking down rest of his coffee. Ste did the same, and glanced at Brendan but had to look away again because the man was staring at him so intensely.

"So, what now?"

"Now, I'm gonna walk you home, and then you are going to think about what I have just said. I call you in the morning to see how you are, and how you want to continue this. Okay?"

Ste gave him another nod and rose from his seat, marching to the door Brendan following closely by. "You don't have to walk me back to home, it's just there." He knew he sounded rude but if Brendan had enough of him he should leave already, instead of walking next to him, radiating heat that Ste couldn't ignore.

"I want to." Brendan simply said. They didn't speak until they reached Ste's flat. Then Brendan stood on the street, hands in his pocket, looking annoyingly confident and calm when he was watching Ste get to his door and unlocking it. "I call you in the morning."

"Yeah, talk to you then." Ste stepped inside his flat.

"Goodnight, Steven."

Ste couldn't look at him, so he just closed the door. He pressed his forehead against it and tried not to feel like he had just lost something important.

::::::

He must had fallen asleep at some point, despite the emptiness and million thoughts running though his head, because he was woken by a noise. It took him a moment to identify it; it wasn't any normal sound from the street, it was something else. Someone on his front door.

Ste was sitting upright in his bed, scared and listening every sound. It was quiet now, but he was sure he had heard it. After a few minutes, when nothing else happened, he slipped out from the bed and sneaked to the hall, and then to the front door. He stood behind it for a long time, debating with himself, but in the end he new he couldn't sleep if he wasn't sure there was no one on his steps. He carefully leaned to his peep hole and had a look.

There was no one there. The street looked empty.

He made sure the chain was on it's place and opened the door a little to have a proper look. Nothing. Everything was silent as it should be at this hour. The he looked down and saw a little box placed on his steps. Ste crouched down and was able to reach it without opening the door any wider, pulled the box in. He closed the door and walked in to his lounge area, put on the light and looked what he had. There was a little note taped on top of the box. He opened and read it.

Who's the guy, Ste? Don't tell me I have a rival.

Ste felt nauseated. All his sensed told him not to open the box, but there was a morbid curiosity too. He had to know.

It took him a while to realise what he was looking at.

He scrambled his way to his bedroom, found his phone and dialed.

It took five rings before there was a answer, groggy from the sleep. "Steven?"

"Brendan." Ste was aware that he was crying. He tried to bury himself under his blankets to hide, trying to forget how the dissected rat had spread all over his floor when he had dropped the box. "I need you."

"I'm coming."

::::::

The police were involved this time.

Ste had lost the track of time, but it couldn't have taken long for Brendan to drive at his place. He heard him knocking the door, "Steven, it's me, it's Brendan," and somehow managed to walk to the hall to let him in without looking at the little pieces of meat on his floor. Brendan had took hold of his face and asked was he okay, what has happened, but Ste could only point the floor. Brendan had swore and took hold of Ste's arm, walked him to sit into sofa. He had made Ste a cup of tea and brought him a blanket while waiting the police to arrive. Now there were two officers in his flat.

One of the them was taking pictures of the box and it's nasty content while the other tried to ask Ste some questions. It was hard for him to focus enough to answer. He had managed to give his name, told he had been woken up by noises. No, he hadn't seen anyone. No, he didn't know who could have done this.

"He's been having these letters for a while now, but this is something new. There's a security cameras near the door, if you want to see the footage." Brendan was saying to the officer. Ste felt like he was slowly coming out from the shock, the sound of Brendan's voice pulling him through. He was just noticing that Brendan was only wearing a t-shirt and trackie bottoms. He must have come straight when Ste called him. The thought warmed Ste more than the mug of tea did.

"And you are?" Officer asked from Brendan, pen poised, ready to take his statement.

"Brendan Brady." He stood there, between Ste and the police officer, arms folded, like a bumper shielding Ste from the world. "I'm mister Hay's bodyguard."