Hope everyone is safe and well. We've had another outbreak, so I've been in lockdown again, working from home, which has finally given me the opportunity to write a bit more. Bit of a turning point in this one. I don't own Bread, and so on. Without further ado...


14

A return on investment for Joey Boswell

'All this nonsense about a home birth,' the biscuit she was holding practically crumbled in Nellie's hand, the Boswell matriarch struck by an imagined terror, 'what if something happens?! What if the baby gets stuck, or…or she haemorrhages?! She'll have bled to death before the ambulance arrives!'

'Look, it's not as if I haven't tried to explain that to her!' Oswald seemed pretty exasperated himself, though whether that exasperation was directed at his wife or at Nellie's hysterics was hard to discern. 'But you know Aveline – you try explaining anything to her when she's got her mind made up! You try and tell her that she'll need to take things as they come after the birth, and she insists the wretched modelling job she's got still takes precedence!'

'But a home birth…'

'I know, Mrs Bowell – it's not my preference either. But if she won't be told, we at least need to make sure she'll be as safe as possible, have a midwife in while –'

'A midwife?!' the inevitable Sign of the Cross followed. 'A midwife?! Instead of a trained doctor, my daughter is going to be attended to by some large-chested hippy smoking opium and trying to get her to eat her placenta!'

'Do you even know what a midwife is?!'

Nellie ignored him.

'Did you ever hear anything so preposterous, Joey?!'

Joey raised his head slowly, fed up with the conversation even though he hadn't been part of it until now. It was his own fault, of course. He had chosen to come home for lunch and listen to this, and to linger on while the argument raged before him, mainly because the alternative was returning to a freezing shop where the heating had clapped out and he was putting that off for as long as possible.

'Well…she managed in a car layby last time,' he said weakly. 'If she can handle that, she's made of strong enough stuff, I suppose.'

'I can't believe what I'm hearing! Your sister is planning to give birth in that damp vicarage, exposing her new child to the mildew and the cold while some untrained hippy –'

'A midwife is not –' Oswald tried again.

'Joey, will you –'

'Mam!' Joey raised his hand. 'I'm stayin' out of it, okay?'

Nellie recoiled, a retort clearly playing on her lips which Joey was ready to rebut. This was the first real relapse they'd had back into the old ways, his Mam dragging Joey into a conflict for him to sort out, Joey beginning to take the bait, tempted to step in for the sake of stepping in. Oh, God, he couldn't let that happen – things could so easily slide back into the way they were, and he'd find himself back where he'd always been, his wellbeing at the bottom of the pile of priorities.

He'd opened his mouth to remind his Mam of their agreement when the bleating of his mobile joined in the fray.

'Hello, yes?' Joey answered, his irritation seeping through his voice.

'Is this a bad time?'

Joey's heart melted as soon as he heard Martina's voice. She sounded shaken, upset, a far cry from her usual self, and self-possessed Joey suddenly snapped to it, making a spectacular re-emergence.

'I've always got time for you,' he said softly. 'What's wrong?'

'Can you come round?' There was a pitiful desperation in her voice Joey had never heard before. He was on his feet and reaching for his leather jacket before he'd even had a chance to reply.

'Course…you at the DSS?'

'I'm at home.' That statement was worrying in itself, even if it hadn't been accompanied by the most feeble, pained little voice Joey had ever heard. It was only two o'clock. He rummaged with his jacket, trying to speed up putting it on.

'I can be there in ten. Okay?'

'Are you sure?'

'I'm sure. Hang in there, sweetheart. I'm on me way now.' His hand shook as he hung up.

'Everything all right, love?' his Mam's head inclined towards him in concern.

'Just…me friend's in a spot of bother,' Joey was fumbling with his jacket, catching his arms in his sleeves in his haste to get it on. 'I just wanna make sure she's okay. I won't be long, Mam.'

'No, you…' Nellie took a few breaths before she got the words out, 'you take all the time you need, Joey. We'll be all right here. We'll…' she shot a grimace in Oswald's direction, 'sort this out.'

It didn't come naturally to her, letting him waltz off like this for indefinite periods of time when the cause wasn't work-related, when there was a crisis going on, and there would have been a time when an admission of seeing a female friend might have caused Nellie panic. And yes, just a minute ago, she'd stumbled, as they all did when trying to form new habits. But his Mam was trying, really trying, to let him open his wings a bit more, and he felt a surge of appreciation for her in that moment.


When Martina opened the door to him, Joey nearly keeled over from the shock of it. Her face was streaked with tears, an angry red mark blazing across her cheekbone.

'Who did it?' Joey was aware he sounded dangerous, aware that that may not necessarily be comforting to someone in distress, who'd clearly just been struck across the face. It was odd; he'd been in this situation before, with a woman coming to him for comfort and protection after being knocked about. Last time it'd been Roxy with Stan and he'd bust up their marriage trying to do what he thought was right. This time, he had no idea what was going on, but it filled him with the same mixture of fury and terror as that day with Roxy.

'Number Fifty-Six,' Martina answered him, her voice thankfully stronger than it had been on the phone, though there was still an edge of distress to it Joey didn't miss. She sighed, the sound coming out shuddery and uneven. 'He wasn't happy his claim got rejected.'

Joey was horrified by this revelation. 'This happened at the DSS?

'Don't look so surprised,' she was moving off towards her sofa now; he hastened to follow her. 'They all try it on with me when they don't get what they want. This was the fifth time this month though, and I…' she took a breath, a hasty attempt to prevent herself bursting into tears again.

Joey's instincts responded for him; he sat down beside her, pulled her into his lap, holding her against him for all he was worth, faintly aware that the gesture might seem a bit too familiar, not really caring. Not that Martina really seemed to pick up on the impropriety of it, nor on the slight reaction of his anatomy to holding her like this. She nestled into him, clutching at him. She really was shaken, and it stunned Joey to his core. He'd known she had it rough in her job – she'd alluded to that enough times – but she'd always seemed strong enough to manage whatever life threw at her. She wasn't managing now, and though Joey didn't blame her, he was surprised to see her like this. She'd peeled a few petals away from her inner self, given him a glimpse of it – and it was a lot softer and more vulnerable than she liked to make out.

'You get hit at least once a week?!'

'I didn't use to. It's been gettin' worse lately. I mean…' she swallowed a breath of air, choked on it, coughed a little.

Joey patted her on the back until she got her breath back.

'I mean,' she tried again, 'I don't know why. I thought things were better now than they were a few years ago. A lot more people are leavin' every week. And yet the ones that stay are gettin' more and more aggressive.'

'Makes sense though,' Joey said gently. 'They're pissed off when they see t'others havin' what they don't.'

He leaned back a little, brushed his hand over the red mark on her face. It looked a bit less angry now, but it was still pretty obvious. Joey wondered how much it had hurt at the time. Whoever it was, they must have hit her pretty hard. The thought sent a shot of bile up his throat.

'Doesn't excuse doing this to you. Nothing excuses that.'

He reached down, kissed it, as though that could somehow ease any soreness, realising again that it was perhaps a bit inappropriate to go around kissing one's friends on the face, particularly when their friendship had all kinds of strange blurred lines as it was.

He couldn't bring himself to regret it, though.

'Is it me, Joey? I know what people say, you know. Heartless, frosty-faced cow…even you've slung comments like that my way at times…'

'Martina…'

'I honestly try, Joey, to do right by them. But d'you know how difficult that is, when the ones who are lyin' get away with it and sometimes I'm bound by the rule book and I can't help the genuinely deserving cases when I want nothing more than to do something…eventually I have to switch that off because it kills me, and perhaps that just makes it worse…'

He'd never heard her spill her guts out like this, rambling, her voice quick and high-pitched and tearful, her deepest pains and insecurities pouring forth. Joey had known it must have been difficult, doing the job she did, but he'd had no idea how much it affected her, how much she had to cope with, how much it hurt her, watching people suffer and being unable to act. The frosty-faced exterior was a self-protection mechanism and Joey had always known that, but he'd never really stopped to think about it properly, really reflect on it. And he'd contributed to it; telling her off when she wouldn't sign for a phone bill he wasn't entitled to, teasing her about her frostiness, and his family had too, Adrian telling her to stick it, Jack threatening to mug her…

'I think I've done harm to people, Joey,' Martina was practically hysterical now, 'and I don't…'

Unsure what else to do, just aware she needed to stop going down this track, Joey put his hand over her mouth.

'Stop that. Stop it now. Stop it, Martina. Don't say that.'

Martina sniffled behind his hand.

'It's not you. It's not. Okay?' Joey pressed another kiss to the top of her head. Sod what was appropriate and what wasn't. He slowly removed his hand from her mouth, using it to rub her shoulder instead.

'Sweetheart, what you do…I doubt many people could manage the way you do. It's not easy, is it? And you do your best, and sweetheart, that's all anyone can ask. You've got a good heart, Martina. You wanna do what's right, you feel a sense of injustice when people try and trick you out of summat someone else truly needs…there's nothing wrong with that. And there's nothin' with tryin' to stay strong to cope with it all. So let's not have any more of this blamin' yourself, eh?'

Martina shuddered out a sob.

'And this,' Joey pressed his fingers gently against the mark on her face, 'this is uncalled for. There is nothing in the world, Martina, nothing that makes this right.'

He tightened his grip on her.

'And I'm sorry, sweetheart, if I ever contributed to you feelin' that way. Really and honestly.'

Her shoulders heaved as she sighed.

'You didn't, Joey. Not really. You and your devious little schemes and ridiculous optimism are a change, at least. Thinking about destroyin' you is what keeps me going sometimes.'

'In that case, I'd better keep it alive, hadn't I? You know – tomorrow, I'm gonna come down with the most outlandish claim you've ever heard. Its fantasy and enigma will astound you.'

Martina shook her head, smirking a bit more now.

They were quiet for a little while, and Joey noticed again how small and lost she looked. Vulnerable and young and sweet, hurting even though she was slowly trying to pull herself back together. Reaching out to him because she couldn't take it, just as he couldn't – and even though it was a horrible moment, seeing her with that scarlet slap mark on her face, in tears because of it, Joey couldn't help feel a little warmth inside at the significant step their friendship had taken.

'Martina?'

'Mm?'

'I'm made up it was me you rang.'

She laughed, though it lacked its usual strength.

'Because you've finally got someone's problems to sort out again?'

'No,' Joey insisted. 'Because I want you to feel you can come to me if you need. What are friends for, eh?'

'I appreciate that, love. I do.'

Martina sat back against him, and Joey instinctively reached forward and started plaiting her hair between his fingers. He'd always done this with Aveline as a child when she needed comfort, had tried to do it with Roxy but her hair was too short. Martina's was getting longer and he had a bit more to play with, getting a few twists in before he reached the starchy curls at the bottom and his attempts to make them conform unravelled the whole thing.

He combed his fingers through it all, separating the strands again. He could feel Martina relaxing as he did it, and so he plaited and unplaited it a few more times, feeling relieved as she leaned further back and sighed, some of the tension easing from her body.

'Bit outdated, this, isn't it?' Joey flicked her curly fringe. 'I don't think I've seen anyone with it for a long time 'cept you.'

'Any particular reason you're criticising me?' Martina had tensed again, and he hastened to comfort her, rubbing her shoulders.

'I'm not criticisin' you,' Joey pressed a kiss to the top of her head. 'It was just an observation, that's all. New year, you know, sweetheart. Might be time for a change, that's all I was thinkin'. Boost your confidence a bit. A whole new you.'

'Oh yeah? I might not be the only one, in that case.'

Joey leaned around to frown at her.

'What's that supposed to mean, then?'

'Even George Michael doesn't have blond hair anymore. Well, not as bleached as yours.'

'What makes you think I care?'

'For someone obsessed with his style, you've given up on followin' the fashion, haven't yer?'

'Perhaps I just like it.'

'Perhaps you're just too nervous to change yer image.'

She was sounding more like herself by the minute, for which Joey was pretty grateful. Even if it did mean his carefully-maintained coif was coming under fire.

'Think about it,' Martina purred wickedly, 'a whole new, not-blond Joey Boswell.'

Well, at least she was in a better mood, even if she was making an insane suggestion. She nudged him with her elbow.

'I'll do it if you will.'

'All you've got to do is resist the urge to reach for your curling iron. I'd have to grow mine out; there's no way I'd just chop it… for to me to go to all that effort to remove one aspect of my perfectly cultivated style…'

Martina snorted.

'You'd need to get rid of the fingernails as well to make it an even sacrifice.'

'What d'you mean?'

Joey took one of her hands in his, turning it over and running his thumb over her fingers, over that shiny purple polish he wasn't a fan of.

'These claws you've got are lethal. And what's this colour called? Fingers got trapped in the car door chic?'

'I happen to like this colour,' Martina said, sounding cross again. She snatched her hand back.

'What's wrong with a nice short clean nail?'

'What's wrong with a bit of decoration? I thought that sort of thing appealed to you.'

'You're just tryin' to argue your way out of gettin' rid of 'em.'

'You mean you're hoping I won't so you won't have to touch your precious bleached head and admit the world is changing around you.'

Joey hummed, her words striking a chord. The world was changing. Life was changing. He wasn't the Joey Boswell he'd once been, young and suave and with the times, confident everything would work out if he went out and shook the world til its balls fell off. He wasn't leader of the Boswell pack anymore, he was a lonesome Boswell brother left behind while the others sailed off into their respective futures, while his remained an enormous question mark.

'Okay. Let's do it, then. New us. New outlook on life. Might give us some of that confidence neither of us have.'

'Or it might do nothin' at all, but we might look marginally different.'

'Or that.' Joey curled her hair around his hands again, and then flicked it out around her neck. 'D'you have to go back in to work?'

She shook her head. 'Enough people saw what happened. I got sent home.'

Joey considered. Sod going back to the shop; he'd had no customers or takings all day. And he was loath to leave her after all that had transpired – even if they'd been queuing up down the street, he decided, he wouldn't have been going back today.

'Come on, then. We've got the rest of the day to kill, haven't we? Let's go somewhere nice. Cheer you up a bit.'

'Not that cornfield again.'

Joey snickered. 'Wouldn't want you to get cold, would I?' He wrapped his arms tightly around her, as though warming her even though it was nice in here with Martina's fire on, and kissed the top of her head again. 'How about a proper nice dinner somewhere?'

'It's a bit early for dinner.'

'You've got to book now for some of the better places or they've filled up by dinnertime.'

'Think I'm made of money, do you?'

'You've been through enough, sweetheart, without havin' to fork out as well. On me – I'll book it now.' He grinned as he reached for the phone.

'Eh – not by rackin' up my telephone bill you won't!' Martina snatched the receiver from him, a welcome bout of playfulness. 'Use yer mobile.'

'Me what?' Joey teased, unable to help himself, getting thumped for his efforts but doubling down all the same just for the fun of it. 'No, seriously – what mobile?'

'You know what mobile, Mister Boswell. I've phoned you on it before – you can't deny it exists. It's too late for that.'

She was trying to hold onto a laugh; if Joey could get it out of her, all the way, he suspected it would do wonders for her wellbeing.

'What, a poor, desperate, jobless sod like me havin' me own mobile phone?'

He pulled it from his pocket and waved it above her head as he continued the jape.

'Now where would you get that idea from?'

Martina made a grab for it. Joey held it a bit higher.

'From what depths of your imagination did you fathom that?'

'Joey!' her voice had cracked, though – she was so close to laughing, Joey only had to push a little harder, he was sure, and she'd get there.

'You're seein' things, you are. Imagining you've seen me with a mobile phone… imagining you've spoken to me on it…' he lowered it, beginning to punch out the restaurant's number, 'imagining you've seen me dialling on it…'

That did it. And, although Joey kept his own face straight as he made their booking, he couldn't help drinking in the sight of her face, alight with laughter, and smiling himself. She was lovely enough to look at anyway, but whack a genuine smile on her face and the difference was paralysing. Every time it came out, it knocked the breath from Joey's chest, seeing how glowing, how beautiful she truly was.

And for a moment, an image flashed into his mind, a split-second fantasy of tossing his mobile aside and honing in to kiss that laughing mouth, forgetting dinner, pulling her closer instead, and…

The voice on the other end of the phone snapped him out of it, confirming their reservation for six o'clock, and Joey forced his mind back into the here and now.

Don't, son, he warned himself. Don't start lettin' yourself go there. Not now. Not after she'd been a snivelling mess mere minutes ago, and even so, even if she hadn't, who was to say heading along that path was a good thing for either of them? Being left at the altar was going to take time to get past, if he could get past it at all. If he shut his eyes long enough, Roxy still stormed into his mind, ready to storm out of their wedding ceremony over and over. Better to leave it.

And yet, as he ended the call again and took her in, still curled against his side, breathless from laughter and leaning on him with an affection he hadn't experienced for a long time, a rebellious little thought crept back into his brain, making itself at home.

Not yet.