We're not actually that far off from the end now! Well, when I say not far off, I mean a few chapters, but the end is in sight, after some hurdles which we'll come to soon enough.

But yeah, as you can tell from the increasing festivity of these chapters, I am so far behind on where I wanted to be on this story. I had a very detailed plan, but things ended up expanding, chapters ended up becoming two chapters and before I knew it the whole thing had become a lot bigger than I intended and yes. Well. Anyway.

I don't own Bread. I didn't before and I'm sure I won't suddenly later either. Also, a few sneaky, subtle little references to the ongoing roleplay conversation Sev and I had between Joey and Martina.

25
Christmas first, love life later

Joey stayed out past dinnertime, calling Nellie simply to say he had 'business' and spending the time just sitting in his car doing nothing. It was safer that way. If he went home now, he couldn't have been trusted not to simply pin Martina against a wall and kiss her, pouring out all his relief and all his confused thoughts into her. He couldn't do that—he couldn't just act on an impulse, ride a wave of stress and let it propel him to her. He needed to make a decision, he kept reminding himself, based on logical thoughts, and if he wanted to do that, he'd actually have to sit down and think about everything.

Not now, though, he'd decided. Not when it was so close to Christmas—he needed to get that out of the way first. Let the family have a good celebration—the first one with Martina and without Aveline, though he suspected she, like their wayward father, might turn up at some point during the day. He'd have to start sorting out presents, sorting out expenses (it had always fallen to him to calculate the cost of Christmas each year, then take the time between Boxing Day and New Year to earn enough money to make up for whatever they spent over the season) ensuring everyone had completed their requested chores so that everything might be ready by the actual day. And, above all, he wanted everyone to enjoy themselves and be happy, and he had to do his best to ensure that happened. There wasn't any room for fixing up his own personal dilemmas while all that had to go on. Anyway, if he started approaching Martina and discussing these thoughts of his and it sparked some sort of a row, or at the very least, some awkwardness between them…well, that would be a fine kettle of fish to contend with over Christmas, wouldn't it?

Best to wait until afterwards, he decided. Christmas first. Love life later.

He might still want to talk to Martina about all this, though. She was the only one, after all, who knew about what he was going through with Roxy, who knew about his issues and his psychologist visits, who would understand the significance of what he'd just done. Yes, Joey decided, he would tell her about that. As one friend to another. There was no harm in that, after all, was there?

He drove home slowly, taking the scenic route, letting himself calm down before he turned down Kelsall Street, grinning as he noticed the little plastic Christmas tree, a cable stretched from it through the window of Number Thirty-Two, allowing a set of lights to illuminate it in the darkness.

Well, that was a new one.

I never knew anyone travelled by Christmas tree, Joey thought, wondering how the words would sound out loud, when he said them to Celia later, it seems unusual to park a tree like that. I hope that thing's insured to drive. He shook his head, chuckling at his neighbour's latest attempt to keep him out of her spot, and slowly climbed out of his car.

Nicely done, Celia. Nicely done.

'Where have you been?' Billy demanded from the sofa as Joey stepped into the parlour.

'None of your business,' Joey replied chirpily.

'Nobody knows anythin' about you. It's downright rude!'

'No, rude is when you interrupt people when they're talkin' and tell them things they don't want to know. What are you still doin' up, anyway, son?' Joey asked. 'It's half past ten.'

'I don't wanna go upstairs,' Billy harrumphed. 'I'll only have to do things like brush me teeth and get changed, and then I'll only have to come back downstairs in the mornin'. There's no point in doin' anything.'

'I'll have someone come and drop food into your mouth for every meal,' Joey sighed. 'That's a very lazy attitude, son.'

'I'm not lazy. I'm depressed! Julie's changed her locks—says she doesn't want me bargin' in anymore. Aw, 'ey, Joey, there's no point in anything, is there? You try and do good things like love somebody and raise a child with them, and how do you end up? Locked out! I'm not gonna try at anythin' anymore. Then I won't fail.'

'But if you never try, son, you won't succeed at anything, will you?'

'I don't anyway.'

'But,' Joey leaned over and pinched his cheek, causing his younger brother to grumble and swat his hand away, 'you might do. One day.'

He started for the stairs, pausing as something caught his eye.

'Oh! Christmas tree's up! Who did it?'

'Adrian and Martina.'

'Looks fantastic.' Joey paused to admire it for a moment before heading upstairs. 'Don't just stay there all night, Billy!' he called over his shoulder as he went.

Joey walked straight past his own room, pushing open Martina's door without knocking.

The DHSS lady was lying on her stomach on her bed, idly ticking boxes on a form. Joey stood and watched as her pen flicked lazily back and forth. She must be feeling more confident about her deadlines, he thought—the stress had gone from her face and she was humming what sounded like a mesh of two different Simple Minds songs to herself as she worked.

'For someone takin' care of important business,' he teased, making himself known, 'you look very casual, sprawled there like that.'

Martina flicked her pen at him in an approximation of a rude gesture.

'Oh, we're resorting to vulgarity, I see. You must have nothin' to say in your own defence.' He strolled over to the edge of the bed and Martina raised her head, propping herself up onto her elbows as she looked up at him.

'And why should I defend meself? It is important business. And I am relaxed about it. Reason being, this is the last form.' There was a trace of smug satisfaction in her voice. She applied her pen to the page, drawing her signature with a triumphant flourish of her wrist. 'There. All done.'

'Congratulations, sweetheart,' he rewarded her with a kiss to the forehead, at which she rolled her eyes. 'Now you've been unshackled from that dirty great stack of paperwork, what will you do with yourself?'

'Oh, I don't know.' Martina shrugged. 'Make a study of the Boswell species, p'raps.'

'We'd make fascinating specimens,' Joey grinned. He poked her lightly. 'Shove over.'

Martina grumbled, but she sat up and moved across to make room for him all the same. Joey sat down beside her, feeling the warmth on the mattress where she'd been lying seconds ago, smelling her perfume, now a stronger presence in this room than Aveline's, listening to the rustle as she gathered up a few papers in a stack. Martina's shoulder pressed against his.

'What's the matter?'

Joey blinked. 'Excuse me, sunshine?'

She wasn't looking at him. 'What's on yer mind?'

'How did you know there was anythin' on me mind?'

'You came in to talk to me, didn't yer?'

Joey threw his hands up in the air. 'Am I that transparent?'

'I'm afraid so, Mister Boswell.' She put the papers on her bedside table and turned to face him. 'Go on, then. Let's hear it.'

'Roxy phoned me.'

He felt her tense beside him. 'Oh.'

'Yeah.'

'What happened?'

'Oh, the usual. She was complainin' about me, trying to convince me everythin' she did she did for me and everythin' I did was selfish and neglectful… I told her I didn't wanna hear it.'

'Oh, yeah?'

'Yeah.' Joey grinned. 'Martina! I said no to her!'

'Congratulations,' Martina leaned over and kissed him on the forehead in a mimicry of what he'd just done to her.

'No, Martina, seriously! Do you realise how significant this is? I said no to Roxy. I said no to Roxy! Roxy! She tried to wear me down and I stood firm!'

'Well, of course I realise, love. And that's good to hear.'

'Proud of me?'

'Of course I am. Proud of yerself?'

Joey nodded.

'Then what's the matter?'

He frowned. 'Nothing's the matter.'

'Oh, yeah? Then why do you look like you're about to cry?'

Joey put a hand to his face. No tears. He'd come in here with a smile, hoping to impress upon Martina what great news this was, that he had got through a rather harrowing encounter with Roxy and survived. That he had extracted himself from it, that he had been strong about it. If he wasn't pulling this off, it must have shaken him more than he'd thought.

'I don't.'

'Joey, you're transparent, remember?' He could have sworn she muttered something under her breath which sounded like about some things, anyway, but she spoke directly to him again before he could ask what she meant by that.

'So, what's the matter?'

'Well, nothing. I mean…I suppose I might still be a bit shook up, but that's understandable, isn't it? She frightened the life out o' me when she phoned. I didn't think…I hadn't thought…'

'Yeah,' Martina put a hand on his shoulder. 'That's understandable, love.'

Joey put his arm around her, pressing his face against her neck, letting himself properly relax, as he hadn't yet been able to do, from holding her. Just being beside her helped him release some of the tension he'd been carrying all day, just having her know about all this, know and understand, was enough to calm him.

Well, calm him enough that he no longer felt the need to hold back a sob; not enough to stop him from struggling against the desire to pepper her neck with kisses.

Joey pulled back before he accidentally started acting on this urge. He'd already resolved not to do anything about that now. Christmas first, love life later.

'Sorry, sunshine,' he said, wiping the back of his hand across his brow. 'I just…I needed to say somethin' about it, that was all.'

Martina patted him on the arm. ' 's all right, love. I know it's hard. You did well to stand up to 'er.'

'I did, didn't I?' Joey managed a smug smile and was treated to one of Martina's glares.

'I thought you wanted me to be proud of meself.'

'Proud, yes. Boastful, no.'

'There's a very fine line between them, you know.'

'And you always fall off it.'

Joey laughed then, feeling another layer of tension fall away. Martina's lines were always so perfectly timed, rolling easily off her tongue without so much as a pause. Until he'd met her, he'd fancied himself the quickest wit there ever lived, but Martina could wit circles around him without even having to make an effort. She was brilliant…was it any wonder he…

'D'you want to stay?'

Joey bit his lip and narrowed his eyes. 'Stay?'

'Here. Tonight.'

'Oh.' He'd thought that was what she meant, but it was the first time she'd ever offered such a thing. 'I wasn't fishing, you know.'

She shrugged. 'I just assumed that was why you came 'ere. It's usually why you come into me room uninvited.'

'And it's usually something that annoys you. I have to plead with you upon bended knee to let me seek refuge with you.'

'Yeah, Joey Boswell on bended knee. That'll be the day.' She considered. 'Joey, I'm offerin' for you to stay with me tonight. If you want to.'

Oh, he wanted that very much, except for the fact that staying with Martina yet again didn't do anything to aid his determination not to think about his feelings for her. Still, that could have been ignored, because Joey was as daft as Billy when it came to being determined to do one thing and giving in to his desire to do another, and at least, even if it couldn't amount to anything, even if it was something he had to struggle to come to terms with afterwards, he was at least getting the chance to spend more time with Martina, even if neither of them were conscious.

Problem was, when he'd been sitting there in his car, trying to recover from Roxy's phone call, he'd got on the phone to a rival of Ron's, booking himself in to do a shift of work tonight in the hope that, before the news of his failure leaked out, he could prove himself still a worthy man to do business with in the underground.

How he wished he hadn't, though. How he wished, now, fervently, that he could have arranged this for tomorrow night. Nonetheless, he couldn't back out now. It was imperative he sealed his reputation before he got the chance to lose it.

'I've got a j—' he began without thinking. Martina's eyebrows began their typical ascent.

'Er—summat to do. Got summat important to do.'

'Were you gonna say job there?' Martina asked sternly.

'No.'

'What was that word gonna be, then?'

'Which word?'

'The one with the 'j' sound at the beginning.' Martina wasn't going to ease up on him with this one.

'Er…Joey,' he lied pathetically. 'Me name.'

'I'm afraid I'm not convinced, love.'

Joey leaned in, raising one of his own brows. 'Shoulder.'

'You've already played that card, Joey.'

'Other shoulder, then.'

'Doesn't work that way. The move's still the same.' She sat up on her knees, shoving him lightly. 'Tell me what you're doin'.'

'That you shall never know, sweetheart!' Joey declared, and she shoved him again, harder this time, resulting in him falling off the bed. At least, he thought, she wasn't making heavy weather of his fiddles at the moment. He'd noticed a change in Martina on that front—the whole family had slipped of late, letting their guard down, leaving evidence of fraud within Martina's reach without really thinking about it; they'd got used to her, comfortable enough round her to do so, but the DHSS lady, though she still occasionally remarked on it, even appeared annoyed, never had done anything about it.

She would have, once upon a time. Of that he had no doubt. Now it seemed she just couldn't bring herself to follow through with any of that. Cheating was a part of the Boswells' collective personality, just as family unity and family squabbles were. Something that irritated but at the same time endeared her.

'Well,' Joey said, picking himself up off the floor and dusting himself off, 'at least you didn't smack me that time.' This was half in jest, half as a warning. He'd made himself fairly clear on his dislike of being hit now, something which stemmed from when Roxy had gone through a short-lived (but still dreadful) phase of slapping him across the face for every minor transgression. He knew Martina didn't mean any harm, that she was just playing, but it still wasn't something he could bring himself to put up with, let alone find funny or enjoyable in any way.

'Yet.'

'And you're not goin' to, are you?'

Martina rolled her eyes. 'You're pushin' it.'

'You're pushin' not being over my shoulder, and sod how many times you decided I could do it…'

She shook her head, pulling him back to her by the cuffs of his sleeves.

'What time are you goin' to this job, then?' she said right into his face. He could smell mint on her breath; she must have just done her teeth.

'I told you, it's not a job. I'm just seein' some mates…'

'Some mates that you work with, perchance?'

'Where do you get this suspicious mind?'

'Me workplace.'

'Of course,' Joey grinned. 'Three o'clock.'

Martina looked surprised. 'That's a bit late to be…meetin' yer mates.'

'They're strange people, sweetheart. Operate in strange ways.'

'They're not the only ones.'

'You're really begging for it, you are.' He patted his shoulder.

'And you're begging to be arrested, being so blatant with your secret night-time skulduggery. Now are you stayin' or not?'

'I'd have to get up halfway through the night. Might disturb you.'

'Or I might be able to coax out of you in yer sleep where you're goin'.'

'Why, Martina,' Joey teased, 'are you so desperate to get me into your bed?'

'Now who's resortin' to vulgarity? I just thought you were upset about Roxy, that was all. That you might need the support. I'm quite happy to be wrong, you know…'

'No, no, sweetheart,' Joey said quickly. 'I would be delighted to accept your most generous offer.'

She nodded. 'Gimme five minutes to get changed.'

Martina pointed at the door and he obediently left the room, taking the time to brush his teeth, lay out his tux for later, shut Mongy up with a bowl of dog biscuits to prevent him yapping and waking up his brothers (Billy, he noticed, still hadn't gone to bed. He'd probably still be in front of the television when Joey did eventually leave for work.) There wasn't much point in changing into his pyjamas, so Joey simply wrapped his bathrobe around his shirt and grabbed his radio, setting the alarm for half past two and tiptoeing back up the passage with it tucked under his arm.

He knocked on Martina's door.

'You decent?' he called softly, pushing it open a crack.

'Yeah.'

'Pity.'

'I 'eard that!' Martina glowered at Joey as he re-entered the room and began setting up his things.

'You're not movin' in here, you know. You do actually have a bed of yer very own.'

'Yeah, but there's less people in 'ere. More peaceful. And you take up so little space I can pretend you're not there,' he teased. 'It's like having a room to meself.'

Martina raised her eyes skywards. 'One day, Mister Boswell, I'll make you suffer for every remark like that you ever uttered.'

'And on that one day, dear DHSS lady, they'll be sellin' hot water bottles in Hell to counteract the cold. Budge up.'

Martina inched over and held the blankets up for him.

'You could ask nicely, you know.'

'Ah, but you know me so well that the niceties can go unsaid. You can pick them up just from the loving look in my eye.'

'Can I, just?' Martina muttered.

'It's what happens when you become in tune with someone as amazing as I am.'

She tutted. 'I'm going to sleep now, Joey.'

Martina leaned over and switched off her lamp, the bedclothes rustling as she settled down. She sighed, shifted, moved the pillow slightly and sighed again.

Joey waited a few moments, just listening to her breathing before daring himself to turn onto his other side and snuggle up behind her.

'Martina?'

'Mm?'

'Thanks.'

'Shut up. I'm asleep.'

Joey chuckled and did as she said.

Martina drifted in and out of several different dreams, all of them involving some sort of danger, all of them striking her with an unnamed fear. She awoke dripping in sweat and instinctively turned over and gripped Joey to her.

Little bastard, she thought, clutching at him. She hadn't been able to turn her mind off him for more than a few minutes at a time after her conversation with Adrian, except for a few brief periods of wondering what Nellie had been up to and who the mysterious, silver-haired gentleman who'd accompanied her home had been. Martina hadn't brought that up with Nellie, or with any of the others for that matter. She wasn't sure it was her place to mention it at all. And, while her thoughts had been pushed off that, naturally they would invariably fall back to Joey.

She shouldn't have invited him to stay with her—that much was a given. She'd already told Adrian she didn't wish to pursue a relationship with Joey (even if he was interested, and she still couldn't believe it was even possible he might) owing to the difficulty it'd cause should they then split up while living under the same roof, and she believed her own words. If she and Joey did go out together, if they then did part ways, what happened to her? She could almost think of the Boswells as her own family, but she hadn't forgotten that she wasn't, that blood was still thicker than water, that, if it came down to it and something like that happened, she'd probably be thrown out and they'd all take Joey's side. She couldn't let that happen. She couldn't bear to lose them all in one sweep.

And if she didn't intend to find out whether he did or didn't harbour feelings for her, (and he didn't, she was sure, no matter what Adrian said, so that was that, then) there was really no excuse for flirting with him so shamelessly, for asking him to stay the night with her. It was selfish of her, but she'd just wanted him there all the same. If she couldn't have him, in the sense of him being hers to keep, she could still have him like this—a friend, a companion, someone she could hold from time to time and fantasise about what might have been.

Oh, but she did want him so very badly. She did still wish, even as she told herself it wasn't practical to think that way, and that she should think of her position here, the roof over her head, the family who'd sort of adopted her whom she didn't want to lose, that somehow it might be possible that Joey felt something for her. That he might forget about Roxy and the torture she'd put him through long enough for Martina to show him that not everyone would be like that and to give him some of the love she'd been hiding in her heart.

'All right, sweetheart?' Joey was raising his head from the pillow now. She couldn't see his face in the darkness, only make out the shadow of him, but Martina knew he was probably squinting at her with concern.

'Yeah,' she murmured. 'Didn't mean to wake yer. Just…dreams, that's all.'

Joey enfolded her in his arms, kissing her temple (how on earth he didn't make a jab at her eye she didn't know; it was too dark to make out his face at all.)

'Don't let dreams get to you, Martina,' he murmured, his voice still foggy with sleep. He eased back down against the pillow, his arms still around her, and Martina let herself be pressed into his chest, feeling his heart rate slow as he started to drift back off again.

At that precise moment, as if timed deliberately to ruin the ambience and shatter the loveliness of it, Joey's radio kicked up a terrible ruckus, the voices of usually pleasant singers rendered unbearable by the time of day and the reluctance of their audience to be roused from their near-slumber. Joey and Martina let out a groan as one, Joey disentangling himself from her and ramming the flat of his hand on the radio nonstop until the din ceased.

He flopped back against the pillow.

'Off to your job, then,' Martina teased sleepily.

'It's not a job.' She felt a chill as he flung the blankets off and climbed out of bed.

'You know, for someone who prides himself on gettin' away with being devious, you're a pathetic liar.'

'It's a legitimate reunion with some respected acquaintances,' Joey's eloquence was alert before the rest of him was.

'Yeah, yeah,' Martina pulled the blankets back over herself and curled into the spot Joey had just vacated, soaking up the warmth he'd left behind. 'I'm doin' what sensible people do at this hour and stayin' in bed.'

This last comment was a rather wimpy attempt at getting him to change his mind and remain with her. He didn't pick up on that; she hadn't expected him to. It was such an obscure hint she wouldn't have noticed it herself, had it come her way.

'Not bothering to chase after me in me car tonight?'

'Be off with yer,' she snarled, pulling the blankets over her head.

Joey's laugh was the last thing she heard as he left the room.

'Where've you been?' Billy demanded.

Joey looked down at his youngest brother and shook his head. It was seven in the morning and Billy was still where he'd been last night, laid on the sofa, fully dressed, the telly droning on in the background.

'Did you move at all last night?'

'Nah. I told you. I can't be bothered.'

'Pull yourself together, son!' Joey chided. 'You can't go on like this forever! So you've been divorced. Now's the time to get back on your feet, go out there and make hay, build a new life for yourself while you've got nothin' to lose. Be anythin'! Do anythin'! You'll never get anywhere lyin' on the sofa, now, will you?'

'I've got Francesca to lose.'

'Cheer up, won't you? It's Christmas soon!'

'What's that matter to me?'

'Billy, you're not doin' this. Now get up—come on, off the sofa; all the way off—go upstairs and get in that shower.'

'I don't wanna shower.'

'The bath, then.'

'Can't be bothered.' Billy slumped down again.

'Come on, up you get,' Joey grabbed his arm, heaving him to his feet. 'Get dressed and ready. Greet the world lookin' your best.'

'Why are you so full of hope this mornin'?'

I made Ron look an idiot in front of Yizzel and his mate and got three hundred quid sprang to Joey's mind, but he didn't let it leave his gob.

'Oh, just remembering what it's like to love the world, that's all,' Joey said, not sure he was making sense but not caring.

'I hate the world. It's full of solicitors.'

'And that,' said Joey cheerfully, 'is why you need to get up and face the world. Find the good in it again. Now, off you go.' He gave his brother a little push in the direction of the stairs and sauntered into the kitchen, setting up the breakfast things and placing the pot, white shiny and gleaming, in the centre of the display. He had a good amount to contribute to it today. He'd thoroughly earned it and bolstered his underworld reputation. He'd stood up to Roxy, got her out of his hair, and he'd had enough time to get over the shock of that and feel genuinely pleased.

And it was Christmas soon.

Weights had been lifted and life was good.

And Joey, while he'd been off being productive, had come up with a marvellous idea—one which, as soon as Billy was dressed and ready, he intended to share with his brothers.

'What's this rubbish?'

Martina rolled her eyes.

'Food, Grandad, love.'

'I know it's food! I can see it's food! I'm not blind, you know! It looks like a lot of indigestible muck they're trying to pass off as me breakfast.'

'Look, that's a bit of grilled tomato there, and that's a sausage…'

'I'm not interested in what you're callin' it! It's rubbish! That tomato's been so overcooked it's going to go to pieces the second I pick it up with me fork! And that sausage might as well be dog meat!'

Martina sighed. There was no point in trying, where Grandad was concerned. No matter what he was given he found something to complain about. (Nonetheless, he still scoffed the lot, complaints or not.) She was intrigued to see what sort of gripes Christmas dinner would bring. Grandad would probably have the time of his life picking to pieces the assortment of things Nellie had planned.

'And why are you bringing this anyway, Martin?'

'Martina,' she corrected.

'That's what I said, Madge. It's not your day to bring it! Our Adrian should have brought it. Busy bein' a poof, I suppose, doin' poof things like foldin' handkerchiefs.'

Martina giggled in spite of herself.

'Oh, stop it with all yer laughing! It's serious, this business. He's off wonderin' which side 'is hair's parted and I'm bein' made to starve! And that fairy cake of a Joey—he was supposed to tek me for a drive yesterday! Down to the docks, he said! He never came!'

'I'll 'ave words with him,' Martina said to pacify the old man.

'You do that! And while you're at it, change my allowance. I want the full amount back from your lot down the dole! None of this unqualified rubbish or whatever they told me!'

'That's not my decision.'

'Well, it should be! You should tek control once in a while! You'll never get anywhere if you just do what they tell yer!'

'I'll think about it,' Martina said, knowing she'd do no such thing. Grandad slammed the door in her face, and then yanked the door open again.

'And I don't want one of these, either! Bibs are for babies!' He tossed the napkin from his tray at Martina and slammed the door again.

She shook her head, waving to Celia, who was wiping her windows, before stepping back into Number Thirty.

The kitchen was very empty. For a moment Martina thought perhaps she'd wandered into the wrong house. Not a single little Boswell was in sight. There was only Nellie, who was casually eating as if nothing was wrong.

'What's goin' on?' she asked, taking her own place. Nellie passed a ladle to her and she scooped up a tomato for herself. 'Where are the others?' They'd been there when she left with the tray.

'Oh, they scoffed their breakfasts so fast they'll all get indigestion, the lot of them, and ran back upstairs.' Nellie poured herself some coffee. 'Joey had some idea…I don't know why I don't just get a trough for them, sometimes, I really don't.'

Martina smirked at the mental image of the Boswells eating from a trough. 'What was the idea?'

'Oh, I don't know. They don't tell me things. When you're a mother you're the last to know.'

The memory of Nellie yesterday flashed back through Martina's brain. Her sons weren't the only ones keeping things to themselves, she thought. She wondered if she should let Nellie know she knew—although, she told herself, it was absolutely none of her business.

She pinched her mouth shut and concentrated her attention upon slicing a sausage.

'I'll be out again later,' Nellie said. 'Just thought I'd better let you know—you'll all have to get your own dinner. And if that Freddie Boswell stops round, don't give him anything!'

Martina frowned.

'Where are you goin'?'

'I'm just going, that's all, never you mind!' Nellie snapped. It was déjà vu; this was exactly what she'd said yesterday. 'Lord help us, you don't say every time you run off somewhere, do you?'

Martina chewed on her lip, held her breath, twiddled her thumbs. She wouldn't say anything. She wouldn't say anything…

'I saw you,' she blurted out. Bloody hell, why? It wasn't her place to talk about this! She'd been determined not to.

Nellie froze a horror creeping across her face which meant she was in no doubt of what Martina was referring to.

'What d'you mean?' she demanded dangerously.

Martina wished she hadn't spoken. She was usually capable of terrifying everybody and being afraid of nobody, and yet Nellie Boswell was frightening her right now. It might have been that the other woman had the power to divest her of the roof over her head. It might have been that she simply didn't want somebody she…dare she say it, cared about…angry with her. She didn't know. She just wished she could take it back, whatever the core reason for her distress.

Nellie was still waiting for her to speak and Martina got the feeling she wasn't going to be allowed to just let the comment slip away.

She took a deep breath. 'Yesterday. Outside the house—look, I didn't want to say nothin', it's just…I didn't know what to think…I'm sorry, it's not…' Martina waved a hand in front of her face. 'It's none of my business.'

'You're certainly right there,' Nellie said, 'it is none of your business. I don't answer to my children as to where I go and what I do, and I don't answer to you, either. And I assure you, Little Miss Martina, if you start spreading this among the others and everyone starts demanding where I've been, and if this gets back to Freddie Boswell or anyone else, then so help me God, I don't care if you aren't officially mine, you'll feel the effects of my anger same as if any of my own had—'

'I wasn't going ter tell anyone!' Martina snapped. 'I told yer, I wasn't even gonna tell you I knew; it just sort of…slipped out.'

Nellie seemed about to let Martina have it, but she glanced in the direction of the stairs, remembering her four sons were all only a floor away, and would be in earshot of any shouting which took place, perhaps prompting them to ask questions.

Instead, she slumped back into her seat, resting her chin on her hand.

'Do you think ill of me, Martina?'

'No!' Martina reassured her. 'As I said, it's none o' my business.'

Truth was, she hadn't actually stopped to form an opinion about the matter. She'd been too preoccupied with being shocked about the situation, and with her own matters of the heart, to really pass any sort of judgement.

'I think about what I'm doing and sometimes I feel I'm no better than…that TART!' this word was shrieked into the sky, even though the rest of Nellie's sentence managed to sound calm. 'Than Lilo Lil, going gallivanting off with my husband!'

'Why? Is 'e married?'

Nellie looked at her in disbelief. 'No. Well, he was once, but she…well, she passed away before I met him. But I've got my own marriage vows to think of, haven't I?'

'As far as I can tell, and as far as the others've told me, they were already broken. Freddie left you—surely you can—'

'Yes, his vows were broken but mine were still intact! I've always been a good Catholic; I don't go around having affairs, even if my husband does run off with a common Irish TROLLOP! If it can be called that…an affair, I mean—we haven't…I mean we don't…we just go for walks in the park with his dog and he carries my shopping in sometimes. But it's nice. It makes me feel appreciated, even though it's wicked.'

'If all you're doin' is walkin' 'is dog in the park, that's hardly wicked,' Martina said. 'Does anybody else know?'

'Celia.'

'Ah.'

'Sometimes I think the others suspect…Joey and Adrian, especially. They get funny looks on their faces when I spend too long on the phone, and I daren't say anything when they're in the room…'

Martina had a sudden memory of Nellie screeching thank you! into the telephone over and over, and a couple more pieces of the puzzle that was Boswell life fitted themselves together in her mind. Of course.

'Are you planning on telling them?'

'NO!' Nellie said, far too loudly and far too sharply. 'And I mean it, if you breathe so much as one word…'

'I wasn't going to! I told yer.' Martina sighed. 'I wouldn't do that. But p'raps…oh, I don't know. If you need me to keep them off yer back…'

'Thanks, love, but don't worry about that. I can take care of myself. Though I daresay they might be surprised when they realise there's no dinner for them tonight—I'm having a meal with him, you see…I don't know if that sort of thing is wise…'

'Dinner. How sordid,' Martina snorted.

'Cheeky madam. I ought to box your ears.'

Martina smirked in spite of herself, wiping it off her face as quickly as she could, lest Nellie thought she was being offensive in some way.

'Well, I won't…I won't tell them where y'are.'

'You're a good girl, Martina.'

'Oh, I'm not, really.' Martina shook her head, smirking again. 'I just don't want to be evicted.'

It was only a joke, an attempt to lighten the mood, the sort of thing that Joey would have instantly smiled at and known signified an amicable end to the conversation, but lines appeared across the Boswell matriarch's forehead.

'How many times do I have to tell you, love? I'm not out to get you! None of us are! I'm not going to throw you out—I just wish you'd believe me when I tell you that!'

'You would've done, a while ago,' Martina said without thinking. Nellie scowled.

'Well, that was then,' she said, reaching across the table and clasping Martina's hand. 'I didn't know there was more to you than sarkiness back then.'

Martina smiled weakly and squeezed her hand back. 'Thank you.'

And then, as the sentimentality started to become too much for her, she pulled away again, standing up and carrying her empty plate over to the sink.

'Right. I've got to get ready for work.'

Nellie nodded. 'Go and tell those sons of mine they've got better things to do than skulk around upstairs all day.'

'All right,' Martina paused in the doorway, something possessing her to say, 'if ever you want to…I don't know…talk about it, or…'

'Are you being nosy?'

'No. I just meant…'

'Oh, I know what you meant, love,' Nellie said. 'And it's kind of you, but I'll be all right.'

Martina started up the stairs.

'Oh, and Martina?'

She stepped back down again.

'Feel free to come to me if there's anything on your mind, love. About that wretched job, or Joey, or anything like that. You can trust me, you know.'

All of it was wasted on her, save one comment.

'I don't know what you're talking about,' Martina said. Not another one. Not Nellie, too. I can't bear this.

Nellie just looked at her.

'I'm not blind and deaf, love. I do notice things.'

Martina's hands began to shake. This couldn't be happening—not again. How many Boswells did she have to hear this from? Until it came from Joey's lips, she refused to believe it. She just couldn't afford to, otherwise.

'P'raps you noticed something that wasn't there.' And she fled upstairs before Nellie could say anything more to her.

On the landing, Martina took a few breaths, calming herself, and walked slowly towards her bedroom. She was supposed to be calling the Boswell boys down, conveying to them Nellie's message that they weren't to spend all day in their room chatting (and indeed, she knew Billy had his sandwich round to do any minute now, and hopefully she could score a ride to work with somebody) but she was too shaken just this minute. She gritted her teeth, cataloguing everything she had to do into a practically-ordered list—thinking about things clinically left no room in her mind for any sort of emotion or worry. She'd get her jacket from her room, brush her teeth in the bathroom, then go back and knock on the boys' door and get them out of there, and she'd go to work with whoever offered to take her.

Martina repeated the list to herself, concentrating on it like a mantra.

Get jacket, brush teeth, knock on door, go.

She walked straight past the boys' room, heading towards her own.

'Martina can't know.'

Martina stopped, heart suddenly leaping about in her chest. She reversed a couple of steps and pressed her ear to the door.

'What do we do if she catches us?' came Billy's voice. Martina's ears, which had already pricked up, were not on stalks.

What are they all up to?

Something highly unsavoury, no doubt, if they were all in on it and had thought to specifically address the issue of her finding out about it. Much as she loved them all, she was not going to let them get away with a scam of this magnitude. She held her breath, poised to burst in on them and put a stop to it as soon as one of them let out a few more particulars. Aha, she would say, caught in the act! They would all try and cover it up, of course, and she would enjoy watching them trying to come up with excuses.

'Well, it's not a matter of national security, son,' Joey was chiding now, 'but keep if under your hat if you can. There's not a chance Martina's expectin' presents from us—we want to give her a nice surprise, don't we?'

A flood of guilt rushed to Martina's head, the way blood did when she lay down after a long day on her feet. It filled her forehead, throbbing in her temples. Oh.

Oh.

And then came the warmth and the uncontrollable smile.

They were planning what to get her for Christmas.

Oh, those Boswells. Why did they have to be so lovable, the little bastards?

' 'ey, I can't stand surprises!' Billy said.

'Yeah, we all know tha',' came Jack's contribution. 'It takes nothin' short of a miliarty defence operation to keep you from snoopin' yer presents before the day.'

'It's the suspense! It drives me mad! I don't think you realise the headaches uncertainty gives me! I like knowing things!'

Martina couldn't see any of them but she could envision the eye rolls going on.

'Well, I already know what I'm givin' 'er.'

This remark came from Adrian of all people. Martina was as astounded as they must have been.

'Oh, yeah?'

There was a scrape as a drawer was pulled out; a few rummaging noises ensued.

'Aw, Adrian!' Joey's voice was so soft that at first Martina couldn't be sure she'd heard him or imagined him speaking. 'That's fantastic, son! Beautiful! I'll eat me Jag's spare tyre if she doesn't like that!'

'Yeah,' said Jack. 'Great. Lovely.'

'What is it?' asked Billy, and there was a collective groan.

Martina herself was now itching with curiosity as to what Adrian could have procured for her whoch sparked such raptures of delight and approval among the others, but her own self-discipline, a well-trained and determined force within her, propelled her away from the door before Adrian could reveal any details. Much as she was wary about surprised, owing to the fact that she generally received nasty ones, she wanted this to remain a secret until Christmas. It would make a nice change to be genuinely surprised—and hopefully pleased—on Christmas Day when she opened Adrian's present. And those from the others, for that matter.

She went into her bedroom smiling. The Boswells were giving her Christmas presents. They were doing something nice for her. They were going out of their way to make her feel truly part of their celebration.

And then she stopped, her smile freezing on her face. If the Boswells were getting Christmas presents for her, she had better get Christmas presents for them. And what on earth could she get them?

What did you give to people who already had everything?

'And what were you up to up there, all colludin' in yer bedroom all morning?'

The best course of action, Martina had decided, with regards to overhearing the Boswells talking about surprise presents for her, was to pretend she hadn't. And the best way to pretend she hadn't was to act suspicious.

'Oh, just discussin' something of paramount importance,' Joey said, flicking his indicator on and turning a corner. 'Nothin' little DHSS ladies need to know about.'

Of course it had been Joey who'd offered to drive her. A part of her was pleased about this—she preferred riding with him than any of the others, not just for the company, but because travelling in his vehicle was preferable to any of the other ghastly modes of transport on offer—but at the same time, it placed Martina in yet another situation where she was in close proximity to Joey and didn't know what to do about it.

'Something to do with that job you went on last night, no doubt,' she said.

'I told you,' Joey replied, 'it wasn't a job.'

'And I told you I don't believe yer. There was an 'undred pounds in the pot this morning.'

'I wonder who put that there.'

'You.'

He pulled over across the road from the DHSS, turning off the engine and folding his hands in his lap.

'You can't prove that.'

'I'm workin' on it.'

Joey looked at her and she raised an eyebrow.

'Oh, get out of my car. Go on. Piss off to work!' He'd adopted a Grandad accent for this last instruction. She laughed.

'All right, I'm goin'—but don't think I'm gonna forget this.' Martina gathered all her paperwork into her arms and pushed open the passenger door.

'Of course not, sweetheart. That wouldn't be you. I wouldn't want you to go against your very nature, now, would I? Can't deny you the opportunity to hunt me down and find out everything you can about my non-existent job.'

'I'm glad you think that way. Because that's what I'm gonna be doin' all day!'

She didn't hear Joey's laugh, as he'd shut the car door again before he let it out, but she saw it through the window.

Not that she was going to be hunting down evidence of his 'non-existent' (her foot) job. If she got any time today, she had another, far more pressing, mission.

It had occurred to Joey sometime last night, in between repetitions of Christmas first, love life later that, infatuation or no infatuation with Martina, he should make an effort to give her a good Christmas. He hadn't started thinking about what he was getting anyone yet, but, when he'd thought about it, he'd realised it was highly likely none of his brothers had thought about her at all, and he intended to change that.

Martina was going to feel part of the family whether she wanted to or not. He'd make sure of it.

And thus far, his plan had gone well. Adrian had been two steps ahead of him, and it had surprised Joey how much thought his brother had put into Martina's gift. It was a slightly unusual present, he granted, but special, nonetheless. It would mean something to her.

Jack and Billy hadn't been so well-prepared, and they'd spent a good few minutes arguing over what constituted something appropriate for a girl, Joey providing alternatives to every terrible suggestion they came up with, until he'd helped them reach a satisfactory decision. They were only planning on getting her fairly generic gifts, but by Billy's standards (he'd never to date got Julie something she actually liked) and by Jack's standards (his idea of a gift for one of his girlfriends had been a fake antique chair he couldn't get rid of, which had led to an outbreak of woodworm in her house) if they stuck to these ideas, they'd be doing quite well.

The only problem now was him.

Oh, yeah? Billy had snapped, after Joey had rather bluntly rejected the idea of giving her the ring Julie had flung back in his face a week ago, well, what are you getting 'er, then?

'A surprise,' Joey had said, trying to look as enigmatically charming as ever, 'a surprise.'

Billy had grumbled and then suggested something even more terrible, and he'd been let off the hook. But the truth of it was, he didn't have the first idea what Martina would want.

He knew what he'd like to give her, of course. He would have liked to give her a kiss, or perhaps tie himself up with a bow, but he had no idea how either of those gifts would be received.

Probably not well at all, he told himself. Probably not well at all.

If only he had someone he could ask about this. He couldn't well discuss it with one of his brothers, after having made out that he'd already found the perfect gift for her, and the only person who actually knew anything of how he was feeling, what he was struggling with, was Rosemary. He didn't have another appointment with her until after New Year, though, and he could hardly barge in without one just to ask what to get somebody for Christmas. He wasn't sure he'd want to anyway. He could imagine Rosemary attaching some sort of Freudian meaning to everything he came up with, turning even the most innocuous suggestion into some sort of phallic symbol.

No, he couldn't do that. He was going to have to find something himself—and, what was more, something that wouldn't convey too heavily any suggestion of him having feelings for her.

Christmas first, he told himself as his brain tried to push the idea of a kiss on him again. Love life later.

He repeated it to himself until the words turned into a jumble in his head.

Yes, more awkward tension moments. They're far too stubborn to actually do anything about their feelings...but they can't keep this up forever.