a/n
I'm indebted to a colleague, who is a contemporary of Martina's, for the information with regard to the pregnancy tests available in 1987/88. I've always wondered why the Boswells, and Joey in particular, didn't seem to entertain the notion that the child might be his. If a woman I'd been in a relationship with appeared with a child of an appropriate age, it's the first thing I'd think of!
Joey finished his meal, glanced at his watch and asked for the bill. In about half an hour he was due to meet Martina and he was extremely nervous. Heaven knows why, it's not like it was a date, and after all, he never had any difficulties talking to her at the DHSS. He paid up and wandered off down to The Villiers. He spotted Martina coming along the street and waited for her, so they could enter together.
"My round Mr Boswell, what would you like?" Martina was firm.
"A vodka and tonic please Miss Delaney." Joey couldn't resist using her surname, now he knew it, in mockery of her insistence in using his.
She rolled her eyes, and ordered. They took their drinks to a corner seat.
"Right then Mr Boswell, what's this question you want to ask me?" Martina was brusque.
Joey decided to come straight out with it. "Right, yes, well Martina, do you think I come over as gay?"
Martina was surprised at his question. She'd amused herself since yesterday trying to work out what it might be he wanted her honest opinion on, but this hadn't entered into her mind at all. She managed not to smirk and said, frowning lightly, "I wouldn't have necessarily said so, Mr Boswell."
Joey nodded thoughtfully. Since Alastair Grainger's question about an affair with Michael, and comments about him making a hit he'd wondered if he had overdone his image. He'd always liked to keep people guessing, part of the Joey Boswell enigma, but he didn't want to take it too far.
"Is this the prelude to coming out?" Martina spoke gently, not wanting to make things any more awkward for him if it was.
"No, it's just an assumption a lot of people seem to make."
"Do they?" Actually Martina wasn't being strictly true here, more than one person at the DHSS had mooted the theory that Joey Boswell was in fact gay. Despite her reputation for honesty, she felt that it wasn't something he needed to know right now.
His eyes were looking straight into hers, "And what about you?"
She laughed, "So, apart from wanting to know where I'm from, me football team, and me religion, you now want to ask about me sexuality? I haven't met a woman yet who's attracted me in that way, Mr Boswell. But.."
"Martina I wasn't prying, I meant what do you think about me."
"Lying, cheating, up to no good, how long do you want me to go on for?" She smiled mischievously, putting her hand on his arm to stop him responding, then continued in a softer, kinder tone, "I haven't, in all honesty, thought about your sexuality Mr Boswell. It's not particularly obvious one way or the other."
Joey sighed, this wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear. "Thanks Martina, I appreciate that."
"Does it really matter what people think Mr Boswell?"
"It shouldn't do, should it? I don't know why it's got to me. I was taken aback at a question, but more than that, I mean some one I've wor... er, known, known, thought it was the sort of thing I'd be doing, and so must have assumed, even though," he stopped. " I'm not making sense am I?"
She shook her head, "No, you're not."
"Years ago in a club I met someone who is gay, and a bit older than me, who tried it on. I said thanks, but no thanks, not my scene, but we became friends anyway. Then on Thursday some one who knows us both asked if I'd ever been in a relationship with him. I mean where'd that come from?"
"Lazy thinking, that's where. You know, all dogs have four legs, my cat has four legs, therefore my cat is a dog, type of thing."
"And then I've been in the company of some people this week, and not dressed in me leathers, and I get told I've made quite a hit, and if I ever fancy, what was it, oh yeah widening me experiences, I won't be short of offers."
Joey sounded het up to Martina, totally unlike himself. She looked at him carefully for a few minutes, and resisted the urge to make the obvious sarcastic comments that were dancing round her brain.
"Mr Boswell. Joey," she hesitated. Using his first name felt so wrong. "Er, sorry that's a bit presumptuous."
"No, please it's fine, actually I'd prefer it if you did call me Joey, out of hours, I know you can't at work." Joey managed a tiny smile.
"Yes, where was I? Look it seems to me, and I'm only guessing mind, that this isn't really what's getting to you, but there's something else you're bothered about, and you've transferred all your grief into this, which normally you'd just laugh off."
She twiddled her empty glass round, looking intently at it.
Joey gasped, suddenly it all made sense. It was all about bloody Roxy and, no he wasn't going to think about that now, the thing that had been keeping him awake and gnawing away at his insides."
He looked over at Martina and noticed her empty glass, "Same again?"
"Please." Martina wasn't sure if she'd hit a raw nerve and kept focused on her glass.
"Here you are." Joey sat back down with a fresh round of drinks.
"I suppose I am doing what you said," he admitted, a touch reluctantly. "I don't know how you picked it up though."
She gave a wry smile, "I've been at the DHSS since I was nineteen, I can spot a mile off when people are stressing about something to avoid dealing with the real issues."
Joey sighed again, "it's me girlfriend, ex-girlfriend I mean. What?" He hadn't missed the knowing smile.
"Sorry."
"Martina, that smile. I've just confirmed something in your mind. Do you think you could let me in on what it is?"
Much as she was tempted to make a cutting comment Martina merely shrugged, "I just think it's illuminating that you said girlfriend, then corrected yourself. She finished with you then?"
"If only it were that simple."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"It's quite er, complicated, you up for that?"
"I don't mind." In reality she was intrigued.
"Right well," he took a drink before plunging in and telling her the tragic saga of Roxy Hartwell and Joey Boswell.
"So that about brings it up to date." Joey finished speaking and downed the rest of his drink.
Martina nodded, then indicated his empty glass with a raise of her eyebrows.
"Thanks," he responded.
She went to the bar, mulling over the tale she had just heard. Strange really, she wouldn't have had Joey Boswell down for a doormat, but then perhaps he got fed up of always being the strong one and keeping his family together, and liked or needed, a relationship where someone else was in charge.
Martina put the fresh drinks down. "Yeah, but what is it that's actually bothering you Joey?"
For the second time in as many days Joey nearly spat out the drink he'd just taken.
"How the f, er, sorry, sorry, how the hell do you know that?" Joey was gobsmacked.
"I told you, ten years at the DHSS. If it were an Olympic Sport I'd get the gold, no contest," she countered.
"It's the lad, I don't know if he's mine. I know the one she's expecting isn't, though I suppose, depending on how far gone she is, it could be. Oh God, what a mess." He looked stricken. "How quickly do you know when you're pregnant?"
"You can do a home test after two weeks."
"But the lad, well, I didn't get to ask how old he is, but if she was pregnant when she left he could be. And I'll have not been there for him." Joey stopped abruptly, close to tears.
Martina sent him a sympathetic look, "Yeah, it's a tough one."
"And I just don't know what to do."
"Wouldn't she have told you? From what you've been saying it sounds like it would have been a perfect card for her to hold."
"Yeah, it doesn't make sense, unless, unless, she was pregnant when she left and it wasn't mine. She's been in and out of me life a lot the past few years. But on the other hand he might well be, and she might have not said anything because she wanted to get back at me."
"I'm not sure what to suggest, except, and I know it'd be a big thing, to talk to her and find out."
"Yeah, I guess that's the only way to go." Not that Joey had the stomach at the moment for any sort of encounter with Roxy, particularly as he knew that he hadn't handled their final meeting well. "But I sort of, well I couldn't talk to her, the last time we were together. She kept trying to and I wouldn't answer." He frowned. "Then I just left without even saying goodbye."
"Fairly typical male way to carry on Joey. I'm sure she's come across it before. I've never met a man yet who could discuss a relationship problem with any degree of maturity. It's either the silent treatment, the self pity, or the fists come out."
"Hmm, maybe." He was pensive, Martina was very perceptive if a little cynical. He looked at her with a faint smile. "You've forgotten the walking away."
She smiled back. "Your speciality?"
"Along with the silences, and the self pity." He had a woebegone expression. It was all a bit immature come to think of it. He'd let the perfect opportunity to try and get some answers go. Knowing Roxy he doubted if he'd ever get the chance again to tackle her when she was vulnerable enough to tell him the truth. And there was the rub, even if he did pluck up the courage to face her, he had no guarantee she'd be truthful. Deception and deceit were second nature to her, and although Joey knew this, knew she was manipulative and scheming, deep down he still loved her. He didn't like her behaviour or the way she treated him, but he couldn't stop loving her, she was in his guts.
Joey looked up to find Martina gazing at him, with an expression he couldn't quite fathom. Time to change the tone of the evening he thought, Martina's look being far too penetrating for his liking. He leant across the table and kissed her cheek.
"Thank you so much, for listening and for being here." He got up to go to the bar.
"Right, here you are." He passed her glass.
"Thanks Joey." It still didn't feel quite right using his first name.
He settled himself back, "What made you move from the North End into L8, it's not an obvious move, if you don't mind me asking?"
"No, I don't mind you asking. As a matter of fact I'd already moved out of home, then in September 81, I had the chance to buy the flat in Canning Street for next to nothing. It had a bit of smoke damage, and a couple of broken windows, but nothing structural, so I jumped at the chance."
"Isn't it a bit dodgy?"
"It doesn't bother me. They're lovely houses, but I have had some odd looks when I've given me address, and it can be hard to get things delivered. Other than that it's fine, I couldn't have afforded a similar place anywhere else."
"I guess it's the right side of Parly."
"Yeah, I'm not sure I'd move to the other side to be honest."
"Do you know The Radcliffe Estate?"
She sniggered, "I had friends from school who lived there, must have been the shortest lived estate ever. It wasn't built till about '75, '76 and it's coming down now. It's been emptied out over the past year or so, I think it only had people living in for around ten years. Even The Piggeries were up for twenty."
Martina got up to make her way to the bar, "What bought that up?"
"I drove by there the other day and noticed it."
As she set the drinks down she continued, "It was supposed to remedy the past mistakes, you know built of brick, low rise, a community feel."
"Modelled on a Cornish fishing village?"
"Allegedly. I mean what were they on? As if you could transpose a village that's grown up over time to a new estate in bloody Everton. And it was mad there, gloomy passages, blind corners, a complete warren. Even people living there got lost in it. A mugger's paradise it turned into."
The last orders bell went, Joey jumped up to get a final round in.
"This is due to go soon," Martina informed him when he get back.
"What is?"
"This pub, as part of the Clayton Square development."
"Is the whole street going?"
"Pretty much, I think. It's disconcerting isn't it? It feels like we're living in a constant state of flux."
"Shame, I like it in here. I've been lucky, we've not had the clearings on our little bit of town. The other side of Cockburn Street's down, the Mount's going, and there's tinnies everywhere. Surprising given how small the houses are. When we had the bathroom put in, they took it from our Aveline's room, and it wasn't big to start with, it's like a cupboard now."
Martina raised her eyebrows.
"Me sister," explained Joey noticing her look.
"I've not met her. At least one of you earns your own living then," commented Martina.
They fell to reminiscing about their childhood experiences until the stark "Time gentleman please," was called out.
"I'll order a cab," Joey took out his phone.
Martina reached over, "You won't get a cab to take me to Canning Street, I'll need to ring, I've got an account."
Joey surrendered his phone to her. "Another drawback?"
She shrugged, "Easy to get round. Oh hi, it's Martina Delaney, can I have a cab from the Villiers to home, and then to go onto Kelsall Street? Yeah, that's it. Thanks." She turned to Joey, "On it's way, be a couple of minutes."
They finished up their drinks. Fifteen minutes later the cab was drawing up outside Martina's flat. She made to get out, "Night Joey," and gave him a fleeting kiss, barely brushing the skin on his cheek.
"Night sweetheart, and thanks for this evening."
Joey stared out of the cab window deep in thought. From the moment he'd first set eyes on the lad, sitting bewildered in his pushchair in front of number 30, he'd been tormented by the thought that the boy might be his. Somehow it seemed as though actually being able to give voice to his fears, and having them acknowledged, had made him feel a little easier. He sent a silent prayer of thanks that Martina, with her down to earth, no nonsense approach had, in the end, agreed to meet him tonight.
