Usual disclaimers, I don't own Bread and so on.

10

The confused companion of Joey Boswell

Martina couldn't have said how she would have pictured this afternoon going – but it had simultaneously exceeded, completely dashed and utterly befuddled her expectations. She would never have expected to find herself still here three hours after they set out, leaning against Joey in the middle of a cornfield, completely alone and yet strangely not at all worried about being taken advantage of, having just let him spill his guts to her and tentatively opening her own for him to prod at as well.

It had been a curious afternoon, that was for certain.

Joey was a lot better tempered today, making a clear effort to atone for his disgraceful treatment of her a week ago. He seemed genuinely remorseful for his anger – she'd lost count of the number of times he'd apologised now, or thanked her, and though she rolled her eyes each time, the relief she felt at this was immense. It had sickened her a little to think that the irritatingly likeable rogue she'd always known had a side to him like that – now it was seeming more and more likely it had been his pain talking. She hadn't missed the tears he tried to hide while explaining the particulars behind his experience, the reason he'd been left at the altar. And that genuine vulnerability, such a stark, heartfelt contrast to the dramatic rendering of sob-stories he usually gave her at work, had softened her towards him again.

Unfortunately, it had set that rebellious little piece of her into overdrive. Joey Boswell was, after all, a reasonably decent person (that was, if you were to overlook his hypocrisy, money-grabbing schemes, his boasting and his determination to tease her to the limit of what she could take). And, if today were anything to go by, a caring, affectionate person as well – far more than she'd realised.

It had thrown her off balance as well to discover he still remembered the day she asked him if he'd been in love. God, she hoped he didn't realise the truth behind her words.

It was only as she shivered at this thought that Martina became acutely aware of the chilly November air, creeping in as it got later and biting at her. She had a thick jumper and jeans on, but it still wasn't enough to keep the chill out, and she found herself curling closer to Joey in an attempt to steal some of his body heat.

'God, it's cold out here.' She wrapped her arms around herself.

'No, it's not,' Joey scoffed, giving a little laugh. She didn't understand it. He'd spread out his coat for them to sit on, and didn't seem at all bothered by the fact that all that was protecting his torso from the air was a thin-looking, probably-silk shirt.

'It's nearly winter. Of course it's bloody cold.'

'Need to use more exact words, sweetheart. Ambiguity is best saved for situations where you need a loophole. It is not cold. Whatever it's supposed to be. What you actually mean to say is you are cold.' He reached over, tapped her nose (in spite of his pretence he wasn't bothered by the weather, his finger was icy).

Martina flinched away from him, irritated.

'All right then, Mister Exact Words, I'm cold!'

'You're always cold, you are. Must be what comes of bein' a frosty DSS lady five days a week. Eventually all that frost seeps into you. Whereas I, with my naturally sunny disposition, am lovely and toasty all year round.'

'Or p'raps you've got a temperature,' Martina let the sunny disposition comment slide, even though the moody, sulky Joey Boswell she'd got to know in Scotland and the serious, solemn Joey who was hiding his heartbreak with false cheeriness wasn't exactly sunny if you asked her. Cheery, sunny Joey Boswell was just a front he put on down the DSS, she'd realised pretty quickly, aimed at buttering her up to get more benefits. Real Joey Boswell was actually quite miserable with his lot in life and strangely enough, this made her like him more. He wasn't just swanning off with whatever he wanted. He had struggles and troubles just like everyone else.

She put her hand to his forehead. No; temperature seemed fine. He either really didn't feel the cold or he was just doing this to annoy her again.

'Eh, I'll keep you warm, sweetheart. Come 'ed.' Joey sat back, made a V with his legs, pulled her between them and up against him, her back against his chest. His arms snaked around her waist, he crossed his legs around her ankles, cocooning her amongst his limbs, creating with his own body a makeshift shelter from the wind.

It should have been awkward, uncomfortable, to have this much physical contact with Joey Boswell.

Oddly enough, it wasn't.

She supposed familiarity, born of a long association in the DSS, had helped them break a few barriers down quicker than normal in a new friendship, although why, when her association with him in the past had usually been of the arch nemesis kind, with a hint of resentment-filled longing thrown in, she wasn't sure.

'Warmer?'

'A bit.' Significantly actually, but she wasn't going to let Joey Boswell think he had that sort of power over her, that he could suddenly make everything better.

Martina rested her head back against his shoulder, her mind relaxing. She shut her eyes for a second, taking it all in, the smell of his expensive aftershave and of real leather, the rustle of the cornfield around them, the gold of the waning afternoon sun burning on the back of her eyelids from having looked at it too much. It was strange, it really was – she'd fantasised about getting close to Joey Boswell for so long (largely in a sexual context), had allowed a strange longing to pervade her thoughts, even as she hated and resented him at the same time, and now all of a sudden she was wrapped in his arms, the one person it seemed he wanted near him when his life was going to pieces. She'd imagined, in her daydreams, scoring a relationship with him that had mirrored their working one at the DSS counter – full of passionate anger that translated seamlessly into passionate sex. Instead she'd ended up scoring a very different relationship entirely – the oddest friendship she'd ever experienced, far deeper emotionally already, even if it wasn't romantic, than she could have ever pictured.

Not that she minded, really. That rebellious little part of her still relished being around him, snatching up the opportunity and beating down any part of her common sense that would have warned her off building any form of outside friendship with someone she had a rather precarious, dangerous working relationship with. She was enjoying bending the rules a bit, getting to know one of her most interesting (albeit annoying) claimants outside the plastic box she worked in.

'You fallin' asleep on me again?'

'No,' Martina snapped. Not that anyone could have blamed her if she was, though.

It had been a long day, and it was only just gone three. She'd entrusted personal information to someone she shouldn't really trust at all. She'd learned some things about him – good, bad and downright daft, such as this strange insistence he had that he was a vegetarian despite wearing an entire cow every day – that bonded her to him a bit more, allowed her to slowly piece together some facets of Joey Boswell that she wasn't privy to in her working capacity. Pieces that her fantasy version of him, hollow and existing purely for her own mental and physical gratification, was missing. Today had allowed her to build him into a real person in her mind, with all the complexities that came with being a real person, not just a two-dimensional mix of attractive rogue and fraudster shrouded by mysterious doings she'd encountered for years. She'd eaten chips with Joey Boswell, something strangely normal and boring for someone so suave and enigmatic, and yet oddly nice to be doing with him. It all made an unusual sense of peace wash over her.

'It's being in such close proximity to my genius,' Joey whispered into the top of her head. 'I always worried you mightn't be able to handle all this magnificence. It can wear you out, you know.'

Martina elbowed him in the ribs but otherwise didn't respond, too busy pondering and trying to keep him from moving and letting any of the outside air get into the little nest he'd made for her with his limbs. She shut her eyes again, feeling Joey press a kiss to the top of her head, feeling a strange flutter at this. Oh, this was probably going to destroy her, this friendship of theirs. Those feelings she had, although they were evolving, weren't gone, and letting herself get close to him was probably going to make them stronger still, and she was probably going to end up hurt. Oh, well. Right now, Joey was lonely and she needed something in her dull existence, and she'd have to get over those ridiculous feelings and enjoy this if she could. She relaxed against him again, and they stayed like that for a while, watching the sun move lower in the sky and the breeze rustle the corn around them.

'Right then,' Joey shifted, causing her to grumble as her warm bubble was burst, 'seein' as you are slowly disappearing into a coma, it looks like it might be home time.'

Before she could respond, Joey's hand was under her knees and he'd hoisted her into his arms.

'Eh!'

Joey shifted her weight a bit so he could grab his jacket in one hand, and then the world seemed to lurch as he stood, holding her against his chest. Martina felt dizzied by her sudden ascension into the air.

'Are you gonna do this every time you want me to go somewhere with you?'

'It could be fairly argued I've never done this before. Bridal lift this time, not fireman's. The benefit of this one being should you wish to continue snoozin' on me, you can easily do so. Consideration. See?'

'I wasn't asleep!'

'No. Of course you weren't.'

It was a bit difficult to argue when she was being hustled through long grass, freezing and restricted by Joey's arms around her, and so she gave up, tutting audibly as much as she possibly could in the hope that Joey would take a hint, and trying not to concentrate on the slightly nauseating rocking sensation in her stomach that was arising from being carried this way.

It was only when Joey reached his Jaguar, parked by the side of the road and gleaming as if he had recently polished it, that he set her on her feet again.

'Thank you,' Martina said pointedly, dusting herself off. Her companion seemed to ignore her obvious annoyance, merely smiling and nodding before sweeping the passenger door open for her.

'My lady.'

Oh, not faux chivalry with regard to the car as well. Martina pulled the door shut behind her before Joey had the chance to close it after her, smiling smugly at his thwarted attempt.

'Try not to trap me fingers, won't yer?' Joey teased as he climbed into the driver's seat.

'Oh, I don't think I'll be promising that any time soon, Mister Boswell. What with the amount of torture you've inflicted on me brain today, I think you're overdue some pain in return.'

'Wanna watch what you say, sweetheart,' Joey started the engine with a lascivious click of his tongue, 'anyone'd think there was a double entendre in there somewhere.'

'Oh, give over,' was all Martina could muster. There was a limit to how much of an onslaught of Boswell taunting she could withstand – and when it was being flung at her without a moment's reprieve, her waning energy couldn't hold up. She leaned her head against the back of the seat, noticing, as she was doing her best to pretend to ignore Joey, the lilt of classical music thrumming through the car.

Mentally drained as she was, she couldn't resist a quick quip.

'The embargo on music's been lifted, has it?'

'We-ell,' she could see Joey's grin flash as he drove, and there was a touch of sheepishness to it, 'when one is in high dudgeon, a bit of elegance goes a long way in cheering oneself up.'

'What, this tuneless rubbish with no words?'

'Tsk.' Joey shook his head. 'Anyone else would appreciate this fine classical work for its magnificence – and you call it tuneless rubbish.'

Martina cocked her head to the side.

'Anyone, you say? Bold claim, insistin' the entire human race shares your taste in music.'

'Well,' Joey said facetiously. 'Anyone with a sense of style, that is.' He was leering at her from across the car, daring her to try not to react.

Martina turned her face away from him.

'Oh, God. Maybe if I shut me eyes long enough, you'll disappear.'

'Oh, I doubt it, sunshine. I doubt it.' He was smoothly sailing his car into a spot outside her building again, and the DHSS lady pursed her lips as tightly as she could – at least that way, she could prevent even a hint of how impressed she was leaking out. He may have been trying to atone for Scotland, but she wasn't letting him think he was hitting the mark on getting into her good graces if he was continuing to tease her like this. She rolled her eyes at him as she made to get out the Jag.

Martina had barely got one of her legs out of the car when Joey was around at her door, and was yanking her up into his arms again.

'Can you stop this now?'

'Can but won't,' Joey chuckled. 'Don't want me dear friend fallin' to the ground in exhaustion, do I?'

'Given we have been friends for less than twenty-four hours, you can drop the dear friend.'

'Oh, you want me to drop you, do you?' Joey jostled her.

'That's not what I meant, Mister Boswell!' Martina growled, thwacking him on the shoulder until he held her properly again. 'If you keep deliberately takin' me words the wrong way, I'll…'

'You'll what?!' Joey's laugh was beginning to grate on her now, after an entire afternoon of hearing it.

'Mister Boswell,' being stern wasn't likely to have much effect – it never had, no matter how many times she'd tried it over the years, but she tried all the same. 'Don't you forget – I still handle your allowance. Gettin' on the wrong side o' me isn't in your best interests.'

'Are you gonna unlock this door or aren't yer?'

Realising Joey had no intention of releasing her, and that he was going to stand at the front door holding her up to it until she unlocked it, she rolled her eyes and pulled her key from her pocket.

'You do realise that the longer this goes on, the more you're in for it when you finally do put me down?'

'All the more reason not to, then,' the eldest Boswell was having a grand time doing her head in, and though she had been feeling sympathy, affection and a resurrection of her old longings not a few minutes ago, these feelings were slowly being buried in the quicksand of her irritation. 'If I am postponing your ire, sweet lady, it may be in my best interests to keep it at bay indefinitely.'

He was sweeping her up the steps now, and it was all Martina could do to not thump him as hard as she could. She settled for angling her head to glare at him while she unlocked her flat door.

'Well, here we are then. Casa Martina,' Joey whistled appreciatively, his eyes exploring her living room. Martina tutted.

'Er – don't think every time you follow me to me door I'm gonna let you in to pry and nose around me flat.'

'I let you in when you turned up at me door in Scotland, didn't I? So you could, as you put it, pry and nose around my—'

'Drop it.' Bad choice of words, Martina realised immediately.

'As you wish.' Joey held her over her sofa, then let go.

'Eh!' The impact was harder than she expected given it was a soft surface. Martina grumbled, pressing her back against the cushions and glaring up at him.

'You are pushin' it with me today. I do have a limit on me patience, you know. And you are skirting dangerously close to feeling my fist on your gob.'

'And you are charmin' me with that sarcastic wit of yours, but I think you need to give it and yourself a rest.'

'Who said it was sarcastic? I meant it.'

She was feeling sleepy again, finding it hard to come up with a response to his constant barrage of irritating comments, and so she gave up trying, saying nothing until she heard his incredulous voice again.

'What is this?!'

Martina looked up, dazed, to find Joey running his hands along her wallpaper.

'A wall, I should imagine.'

'No, I mean this paper…' Joey made a face at it. 'It looks like my niece's dolls chucked up in here.'

'It's not as bad as all that.' Martina rolled her eyes at his exaggeration. Yes, her wallpaper was pink, but it was very pale, very understated, a few small flowers here and there. It was calming.

Joey just looked at her and then roared with laughter.

'I've got pink wallpaper. So what?'

'And a pink blanket on your sofa,' Joey pointed at it, still snickering. 'And pink cushions…and little pink ornaments on your mantle…who'd have thought the frostiest, sternest DSS lady in the kingdom had a secret soft side?'

Martina threw one of the aforementioned pink cushions at him. 'I spend all day in an institution that hands out misery and hopelessness to poverty-stricken people. I'm stuck in a plastic lie-detecting box for forty hours a week, watching a great grey cloud settle over my world, so forgive me if I want something a bit nice and cheerful to come home to.'

'Okay, calm down,' Joey had caught the cushion neatly and now put it down on her armchair. 'I meant no offence, sweetheart. Remember that conversation we 'ad last night about teasin'?'

Martina remembered, and it sent a shiver of irritation through her.

'That part where you said the more I'd react to it the more you'd make it your life's mission to irritate me?'

'That very part.'

She rolled her eyes. 'You know, that's not the sort of thing "friends",' she crooked her fingers like speech marks, 'do to one another.'

'I'd argue it is exactly the sort of thing friends do to one another.' Joey came across and sat down on the other end of the sofa, picking up her feet and depositing them in his lap.

'This from the man who admitted not a few hours ago he had none.' Martina stretched herself out, deliberately kicking him in the arm but making it look like an accident.

'Well, I'm innovative, aren't I? I'll find me own way, break new ground where friendships are concerned. Just think, sweetheart. We could have a completely new sort of relationship. Unlike any that has ever existed.'

'I doubt it. I think another couple o' weeks of this and I'll probably throttle you.'

'Or I'll make a permanent home in your heart.'

'Forcibly, with yer pneumatic drill, no doubt.'

'And you can talk about forcibly, can you? After you tried to smoke me out of me little hideaway in Scotland?'

'For about the hundredth time, Joey Boswell, stop bringing that up every time you think you're losin' an argument!'

'I'm sorry, sweetheart, but with a bit of ammunition like that up me sleeve, how can you think I'd ever stop bringin' that up? I am never gonna let you forget that you lost control of your senses and…'

Martina seethed and kicked at him again, this time not bothering to disguise it.

'Eh! No need to get aggressive. That's not the sort of thing friends do to one another.'

'And what about your little speech that we were gonna innovate?'

'Oh, so you do want to tread new ground, do you?' Joey's annoyance at having been kicked had disappeared very quickly, replaced by an obnoxious glee that she was agreeing with him about something.

'I recall bein' told I don't have a say in this friendship.'

'And I think you're usin' that as an excuse to take no accountability.'

Martina inclined her head to make a face at him. 'Accountability for what?'

'For your desire to spend every minute of every day in my amazing company.'

'I'll kick you again,' she warned.

Joey's hands were around her ankles and before she knew what was happening he'd pulled her, tugging her towards him so her head and torso slid off the sofa and landed on the floor.

Martina glared up at him, feeling the blood rush to her brain.

Joey gave her a stern look that could have rivalled her own. 'No kicking.'

'Then stop throwin' me around just because you're bigger than me.'

'Oh, I can't promise that.'

'Then I can't promise I won't inflict grievous bodily harm on you.' Martina tugged her legs off his lap, righting herself and clambering back onto her sofa. 'And kindly remember whose house you're in. You'll be out on your ear if you can't stop doin' me 'ead in.'

'Okay,' Joey held his hands up in surrender. 'I concede, dear, lovely Miss Martina.' And then he'd wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in again. 'You still cold?'

'No.'

'This is just an apology then,' Joey's arms wrapped tighter around her, and Martina shook her head, relaxing into the embrace.

'Hmm.'

'Falling asleep again?'

'No,' Martina mumbled into his shoulder. 'I was just thinking, now I've got you, Mister Boswell, what do I do with you?'

She felt his chest vibrate as he snickered. 'What makes you think you've got me?'

In response, she tightened her grip on him.

'Okay, fair point. Although it's not the way you imagined, is it?'

'You mean the way that involved dousing you with every legal hosepipe I could get me hands on and pulling the rug out from underneath all your little schemes?'

'That one's a bit of a pipe dream, Martina, let's be fair.' He leaned back against the sofa, tugging her with him.

'Oh, I don't know about that. In me professional sense, nothing's changed – so be on your guard, Mister Boswell. Any slip-ups 'ere might find their way into your file when I'm on duty.'

Joey laughed into her hair. 'I'll accept that, sweetheart. I'll accept that.'

They were quiet for a bit longer, and Martina found herself astounded once again at the strange turns today had taken. She was in Joey Boswell's bloody arms again, and she couldn't quite work out whether this was a good thing, or whether it would ultimately lead to more pain, given she was getting something she'd long wanted – with the caveat that it was restricted solely to friendship. And he was showing her, once again, a vulnerability that astounded her, and a side to himself she had overlooked when sketching out his character in her head.

'You're just like me, you know, Mister Boswell,' she said thoughtfully.

'Am I?'

'You may pretend to be all suave and confident in your macho leather, but when it comes down to it, you're disappointed life didn't work out the way you hoped, same as I am. You just hide it better than I do.'

'In which case, we've both got hope as well.'

'Oh we have, have we?'

'If we're alike, then yes. You're just the one better at hiding that.'

'And what hope have I supposedly got that I'm just hidin'?'

'Same as me. That somewhere, someday, there'll be something out there that'll make everything better again.'

'I think my hope's almost gone on that one.'

'I know,' Joey whispered against her hair. 'Mine too. But we've got to hang onto it, sweetheart. We've got to hang onto it.'