Another long time between updates, I know. Things have been hectic, leaving one job and starting another two. Anyway, usual disclaimers apply, don't own Bread, original J and so on. Joey gets a bit of a rude awakening here, and emerges from his own head enough to realise Martina actually wants things out of life.


16

The rambunctious niece of Joey Boswell

'Well, at least she made it to hospital this time – no car layby,' Joey held up his glass. 'To Aveline and the new baby.'

'Aveline and the new baby,' the others echoed, and drank. It would undoubtedly be a cheery dinner around the Boswell table – they'd all turned up to see Aveline as soon as she'd been allowed visitors, and had all trickled through the door of 30 Kelsall Street afterwards, eager to revel in the news together. It was the first time since he'd left for Scotland, Joey realised, that all his brothers had been in one room at the same time – all together, and without Oswald. Even his Dad had turned up – and stayed, for once not making some excuse to sneak off to Lilo Lil in the interim. And thankfully, Connie was nowhere in sight. If Aveline had been there, it would have been the olden days brought back to life. Joey couldn't be sure whether to be wistful of that (they had been happy, triumphant days, after all) or relieved things had evolved (bearing in mind his newfound independence).

'Another girl,' Billy announced incredulously to the table. 'Are we ever gonna have a boy in this family?'

He was met with stares from all sides.

'Billy!' Nellie snapped. 'What does it matter if it's a boy or a girl, so long as it's a healthy child?'

'I'm just sayin' it's a bit strange, that's all. Three babies in this family – and all girls!'

'What's strange about it?' Adrian piped up. 'You've got a fifty-fifty chance each time you conceive – the probability of three girls in a row isn't anything surprising, is it?'

'Well,' Billy had started chomping on a chicken leg during the course of this conversation, 'it says something about the virility of the men in this family.'

'Oh, God, do you even know what virility means?' Adrian snatched the leg off him, then, realising he had no idea what to do with it now he'd made his point, tossed it back onto Billy's plate. 'He uses these words out of context – it's like playing a violin with a tin opener and wondering why the sounds produced are hideous.'

'What's 'e talking about violins for? I was talkin' about virility, that's all.'

'I come to this table a whole man – and I leave it with me mind in tatters!'

'All right–' Joey shut his gob to stop himself saying any more. Billy and Adrian's rows were painful – exponentially more so now he wasn't stepping in to break them up, but without his interference, he'd discovered, they were starting to peter out on their own.

That was one good thing he could say for an otherwise tumultuous day, most of which had been spent waiting intently for the phone to ring and news from Oswald, a chunk of the afternoon spent gathered around Aveline's bedside fussing over her.

Nellie had been ecstatic Aveline had finally relented, going to hospital at the eleventh hour, and had been crowing for hours about her daughter's 'narrow escape from the midwives.'

Aveline had dutifully held the baby in her arms for show, let their Mam take a picture before handing her off to Oswald and whingeing about her midriff. And then they had all faithfully stepped up to take their turns holding the baby.

She was wrinkled and howling the way babies always were, wizened and red-faced and yet somehow still lovely, with tufts of dark hair like Billy had had. Joey had tried to still the fantasy of a little half-him, half-Roxy that had crept into his head, doing his best to keep his 'adoring uncle' smile on his face while she was in his arms, until Billy had snatched her and he could let it drop.

'What's her name?' Billy had somehow acquired a biscuit, and had sprayed the infant's face liberally with the crumbs as he spoke.

'Well, Oswald and me…'

'Oswald and I,' Oswald insisted, of which Aveline took no notice.

'Have come to a joint decision of Augusta.'

It was lucky Nellie had already snatched the baby, or the entire contents of Billy's mouth would have showered her in the face.

'Augusta?!'

'Don't make fun, Billy,' Joey remonstrated, but his own gob had been twitching. Oswald's namby-pamby upper class tastes really did come to the fore where his children's names were concerned, and the eldest Boswell already could picture the teasing that Aveline would endure from her siblings – much as she had with Ursula – over her second daughter's unfortunate moniker.

Thankfully he had done a better job than Billy of keeping his mirth in check – mainly because his Mam's histrionics were drowning it out.

'What sort of a name is that for a child?! Poor little thing can't play hopscotch in the street with a name like that! Sounds like a stiff, Protestant maiden aunt to me!'

'My aunt was named Augusta,' Oswald said stiffly.

'Well,' in spite of her growing fondness for her son-in-law, Nellie's anti-Protestant streak was on form, 'it's all well and good for your lot – but how's a good, honest child supposed to…'

Joey had tuned the rest of her rant out. It was either that or try and calm her down, but Oswald and Adrian seemed to be doing a good job between them of keeping that under control. Nellie had waited til they all got home before launching Round Two on everyone at the dinner table – and it had only been once prayers were said, and she seemed to remember she had a new and perfect grandchild to be thankful for, that Nellie had dropped the subject and switched over to fawning over the newest addition to the family, and the atmosphere had brightened again.

She was thank-you-ing on the phone now, a sure sign a devious weekend away with that fella of hers was on the cards, when Joey's own phone burst into song.

'Hello, yes?'

'Joey,' Oswald's posh voice lilted down the line, much to the eldest Boswell's surprise. 'I wonder if you'd be so kind as to do me a favour?'

Joey's forehead crinkled. 'What kind of a favour?'

'Well, it's rather delicate…but Ursula's fat nanny needs the afternoon off tomorrow, and with the new baby and the funerals I have to see to, and Aveline in this…erm…state…'

Joey couldn't help but smirk at the picture that remark conjured up. If Aveline's high-maintenance behaviour before Augusta's birth had been anything to go by, he could only imagine how much more she'd dialled it up now.

'We just need somebody to keep Ursula occupied for a few hours…normally I wouldn't ask, but…'

'Say no more, old son,' Joey cut him off. 'What time d'you want me to collect her?'

'Are you sure? Mrs Boswell told me you'd said –'

'Listen, genuine need is one thing. Tyin' people's shoes when they're capable of doin' it themselves is another. Know what I mean?'

And truthfully, Joey didn't mind. He wasn't particularly good with kids – his own nieces being especially difficult to wrangle – but he could spot desperation when he saw it (or heard it). His sister, he knew, wasn't exactly a walk in the park post-partum, and trying to balance the already haphazard care of their first child while trying to adjust to their second wasn't going to be easy.

Only problem was, he was supposed to be seeing Martina tomorrow. Joey's dreams had been haunted by his last encounter with her – red-rimmed eyes and that angry mark climbing her cheekbone, vulnerable and trembling and barely holding it together after having been knocked about – and though he'd spoken to her since, he'd been itching to see her again, make sure he was okay.

He couldn't jib her off – not after that, not even for the sake of his sister and her husband.

There was only one thing for it – he'd have to take the kid with him and hope Martina understood.


'Greetings!'

'You don't normally phone ahead before we meet up,' Martina's voice was crackling due to a dodgy line, but it still sounded suspicious. 'You usually just come round when it takes yer fancy and annoy me until I let you in.'

'Yeah, on that…' Joey swallowed. 'There's a bit of a complication.'

'Oh, yeah? Why is it I can sense a favour comin' on?'

'Your extraordinary powers of perception?' Joey teased.

'If only, Mister Boswell. If only. I just happen to know that's your I need a favour tone of voice. What d'you want?'

'I'm flattered you've made such a study of me, sweetheart.'

'Joey.'

'Well, see, the thing is, Aveline and Oswald…they need a bit of time to bond with the baby…new parents 'nall that…'

'And?'

Joey swallowed. 'And that leaves their eldest daughter alone for the day unless someone steps in.'

'And that someone would happen to be the family saviour, would it?'

He had to choke down a snicker for that. Family saviour. Seems all he'd done over the past few years was fail to avert their crises, watch them circle the drain and then claw themselves back up and forward without him.

'Well I can't leave her stranded, poor thing, can I? She's fam-i-ly.'

'Oh, yeah? Are you gonna bring her down to me work on Monday and sign her on?'

Joey knew she was being sarcastic, but he played along.

'I might do, you know, if you've any good grants to start her off. But in the meantime, her more basic needs must be tended to. And if you don't object to an extra guest…'

Martina tutted and sighed. 'Oh, well. What's one more little Boswell cluttering up me sitting room?'

'Technically she's a Carter by name.'

'With all the trimmings that come with bein' a Boswell?'

Joey grinned. 'Naturally.'

'Same difference, then. See you soon.'

'You sure?'

'Look, I don't mind love. These things happen; bring her if you like. We were only going to the park anyway.'

'You, sweetheart, are an angel of the first order. Except, of course, when you turned up at me hotel room. More like the angel of death, then.'

'And you are gonna get smacked round the gob if you keep bringing that up,' evidently Martina had still not taken to heart the concept of not retaliating when she was teased, 'are you coming round or what?'

'I'll be there in about half an hour, okay?'

Martina tutted good-naturedly as she hung up the phone.


'And what happened to keepin' yer nose out of yer family's problems?' was Martina's remark when Joey turned up at her doorstep, Ursula in tow.

'Can't be helped, can it?' Joey jiggled the child in his arms, causing her to squeak with irritation. He wasn't doing well at this doting uncle lark. Ursula had screamed when he took her from Oswald, turned her nose up at the sweets he'd tried to placate her with, and had resolutely refused to get in his car without an almighty ruckus.

Much as he liked them, Joey wasn't the best around small children. Older ones he had no problem with, but the titches never seemed to take to him, and so far neither Francesca nor Ursula had spent more than ten minutes in his company without howling for their parents.

'Aveline's 'ad the baby, everyone else is crowded around her and her nanny happened to organise a doctor's appointment for the same week. We're down somebody to take care o' this one in the interim. And, well…genuine need and all that…'

He was thankful Martina hadn't pressed him on that. True, he'd jumped to it as soon as someone made a request – but Joey prided himself he could discern well enough what constituted a reasonable request and what didn't. He'd refrained, after all, from dropping what he was doing to help Billy shift a sofa the other day.

Well, so far so good.

Except that Ursula was beginning to fidget and whinge, clearly unhappy about being held and on the verge of a tantrum Joey had no idea how to avert. She squirmed in an attempt to escape his arms; Joey wrestled to keep a grip on her before she fell six or so feet to the ground.

' 'ere. You're gonna dislocate her arm in a minute!' Before he could blink, she was being lifted from his arms. 'I thought you'd have picked up on one or two things, what with all the little Boswells you've had running around over the years. At the very least, how to not to rip a child's arm from its socket!'

Joey braced himself for Ursula's inevitable shriek, but it never came.

His niece, oddly enough, seemed perfectly content, nestling into Martina's arms. The DSS lady's dragonish nature had completely evaporated; it would have been almost disconcerting, seeing a previously hidden maternal instinct emerge like this – had it not been incredibly lovely to behold.

'So it's begun, then. New generation of Boswells to make my acquaintance. Between your lot and those sodding Evans kids our budget'll be bled dry. What's this one called, then?'

'Ursula,' Joey said.

The snigger that escaped Martina's mouth was covered too late by a fake cough to escape Joey's notice. The eldest Boswell remembered a similar reaction when he'd told her he owed the tax man twenty thousand pounds – seemed Martina's amusement, or her subconscious desire to ridicule him, was harder to contain than she'd care to admit. It made her look lovely all the same – the way Martina's eyes crinkled when she let herself indulge in her hidden sense of humour was incandescent. It lit up her countenance.

And in spite of himself, a smile sprang to Joey's face as well, which he quickly smothered. Couldn't let his niece know he'd let the side down, even if she was too young to really understand.

'Eh, not her fault, is it?' Joey reached out, stroking Ursula's hair. She looked remarkably like Aveline at that age – big, puppyish brown eyes and a little pout hovering around her gob, though the ears were Oswald's – and it sent another stray surge of misery through Joey's body. A miniature mix of him and Roxy was off the cards now, another of his little dreams for the future in pieces on the floor, only for him to step on it and end up with shards sticking under his skin, his family's successes in this department all reminders of what he'd lost.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, aware he couldn't really pour out any of his turmoil to Martina with a two-year-old present.

'Poor little mite,' he went on instead, 'can't be easy when your dad's terminally posh and your Mam still thinks she's a teenage model at nearly thirty with two kids. You do your best with what you 'ave, don't yer?'

Martina smiled wryly down at Ursula.

'Never stood a chance, did you?'

She bounced the child lightly – but unlike Joey's attempt earlier, Ursula rewarded her with a little birdlike giggle. This was a side of Martina he'd never seen – soft and feminine and sweet and friendly, all manner of things she usually was not.

'The new one's called Augusta,' Joey informed her. 'Can't decide which of 'em got the shorter straw.'

'You'd better come in then, hadn't yer?'

'Oh, if it's not an imposition,' Joey grinned as he stepped inside. Particularly brilliant on his part – a covert mention of Scotland without actually letting the word pass from his lips.

'You know, I meant what I said when I told yer I'd smack you in the gob one o' these days.'

'You wouldn't. Not in front of the kid.'

'She won't be around to protect you forever, Mister Boswell.' Martina settled her on the sofa beside Joey. 'Enjoy your little safety net while it lasts. I'm gonna make us some coffee.'

Joey snorted, glancing around. Well, he'd probably come to the right place to entertain a small girl – there was enough pink in here Ursula might mistake it for her nursery at home.

'I've only got instant,' Martina called from the kitchen. 'I've run out of proper stuff.'

'Instant's fine, sweetheart,' Joey replied. Ursula gave him a strange look. She'd squirmed half off his lap now, intent on rolling around on the sofa, one foot digging into his arm. 'God, can you not?'

'What'd you say?' Martina had reappeared with the coffee.

'Nah, I was talkin' to her,' Joey jerked his head at his niece, who had somehow backward-rolled off him and was half-standing on her head on the sofa. 'She won't sit still. Bloody 'ell, what's wrong with her?!'

'That's what they do at that age.'

'How'd you know so much about this?' Joey took his cup from her. He couldn't understand it. He vaguely remembered Billy's younger years, though a lot of that time had been taken up with his own teenage hormones and it wasn't really until he was older he'd started taking care of his brothers and sister in his Dad's place.

'Me cousin Beryl's got two, and me brother's got four. The youngest isn't that much older than…' she snickered. 'Ursula.'

Joey blinked. 'Your brother with the gambling debts?'

'No, that's me dad. Me brother's the one with one hand permanently clamped around a bottle of whiskey.'

'And he's got four kids?! To how many women?'

The question had fallen out his mouth before he could stop it, and Joey clamped his jaw shut. Of all the things he could have said – that was Billy-levels of inappropriate.

'To one, thank you,' Martina scowled. 'He might drink but you don't 'ave to write him off as a complete waste of bloody space.'

'Bloody space,' Ursula muttered.

'No, don't go sayin' that,' Joey cringed. 'I'm sorry, sweetheart, I'm shite at this – oh, Christ and I just said shite in front of 'er, didn't I?'

'You did, yeah.' In spite of her obvious offense, Martina seemed simultaneously amused by his struggle to keep Ursula in check. In the midst of this conversation, his niece had climbed onto the coffee table.

'God – Ursula, give it a rest, mate! Jesus!'

He pulled her off and tried to guide her back into a seated position on the sofa.

'Look, I didn't mean that,' it was a bit difficult apologising with a struggling toddler thwacking him in the face, but he ploughed forward anyway, 'really, I didn't. I just…' there really wasn't any way of justifying having put his foot in it. He'd offended her – bloody hell, if anyone made assumptions about his brothers, even if they were true, he'd be straight on the defensive.

'You just assumed, that's what you did,' Martina's voice was cold, her glare sending a shiver down his spine.

'Yeah – and I shouldn't have, I know better – please, Martina – oh, for God's sake, Ursula!'

She'd got hold of Martina's cushions now, and was pushing them one by one off the sofa.

'Cut it,' Joey snarled. Ursula just gave him a defiant look and pushed another cushion onto the floor.

'I don't understand it. Even me brothers are easier to deal with than this.'

'Your brothers are old enough to be reasoned with, love, that's why.'

'Look –' Joey pleaded again, only to find he was talking to her raised hand.

'It's all right, love – just forget it.'

'No, seriously –oh, bloody hell, Ursula!' She was halfway over the back of the sofa now.

'Sit down,' Martina said firmly. Ursula immediately stopped messing around and sat.

'How'd – how'd you do that?!'

'She's tryin' it on with you and you're reacting, of course she's gonna keep doing it. You have to be firm, that's all.'

'And is that a child-rearing tactic or a frosty DSS lady tactic?'

Martina shrugged. 'Transferrable skill. Are we gonna go out, or aren't we?'

Joey glanced over at their half-drunk coffee.

'Well, I doubt we're gonna get that down us before Ursula knocks it over. Shall we?'

After the park, they wandered aimlessly around the precinct, passing Ursula between them while they waited for her nanny to pick her up. Martina was cheerful and attentive enough where Ursula was concerned, but her brusque tone when speaking to Joey certainly didn't go by unnoticed. Whether she was still shaken up from the other day, still cross with him after his tactless comments earlier or a bit under the weather Joey wasn't sure, but whenever he got a brief reprieve from his niece, who was insistent on dragging him to look at any shiny object in her line of sight, he tried whatever tactic he could to nettle her into acting her usual self.

'Fancy that frock, do you, Princess?' he cooed to Ursula, inconspicuously pulling out his wallet and drawing out the one thing he knew Martina wouldn't be able to resist reacting to. 'I've got just the thing.'

'Is that a gold credit card?!' the words came out of the DSS lady in a screech so shrill Joey felt a few of the hairs in his cochlea die.

'Jesus, could you say that a bit louder, sweetheart?! I think there might be a few people in Australia who didn't catch that!'

Well, it had had the desired effect, anyway. Martina was riled, and glaring at him as though they were sitting on opposite sides of her desk at work.

'You're not gonna use that.'

Joey flicked it around and over his fingers, a clever little trick he'd learned from shuffling cards in one of his old jobs.

'Aren't I?'

Martina lunged for it, but given Joey's clear height advantage, it wasn't hard to keep it away from her.

'Don't snatch; it's rude.'

'Put it away, Mister Boswell, before I am compelled to make a note of it for your file.'

'You wouldn't.'

'After the liberties you've taken today, love, I most certainly would. If you wanna risk it, be my guest.'

Still befuddled by her attitude, Joey returned the offending credit card to his wallet, making a mental note to get to the bottom of this as soon as they'd got shot of Ursula.

Looked like it wouldn't be long now – he recognised her caretaker from a mile away, purely from his brother-in-law's description. She was waiting outside, one eye glued to her watch.

'God…Oswald wasn't mucking about when he said she was a fat nanny.'

Martina gave him a withering look.

'And you told me to keep me voice down. I hope you're not gonna come out with anything like that when we go over there.'

'Who d'you think I am – our Billy? I know how to use me diplomacy when needs must.'

'Like earlier, you mean, when you made comments about my family?'

'See – I knew you hadn't forgiven me!'

Joey wouldn't have thought he'd be pleased to see her roll her eyes – it was more like her

'I forgave yer, love, don't fret. I'm only pointing out yet another instance of your neverending hypocrisy.'

On the surface, that sounded like a tease – but her tone of voice didn't quite match it. Joey would have gently prodded her a bit further, but they were drawing near to Ursula's nanny now.

'Oh, God. If I'd known it'd be this cold I'd have brought an extra jacket.'

Joey shook his head slightly as he handed the child off.

'You could've bought one. You missed the window on the gold Barclay card.'

Not even a snort at that. Something was definitely wrong with her.

She was shivering, yes, but that was a common occurrence with Martina; she had an almost reptilian need for warmth. She'd been tetchy all day, taking offence at things that, in her normal state of mind, would have been water off a duck's back. Something was eating at her beneath the surface, and he felt another twang of remorse about his earlier comments.

As soon as Ursula's fat nanny had borne the child away, he took hold of Martina by the elbow and steered her towards his Jag, hoping that standing by it would afford a bit more privacy than in the middle of the walkway.

'Listen…I didn't mean it…about your brother…or the gold credit card…'

'I know, love.' Martina put her hand on his arm. 'I know.'

'What's the matter, then?' he probed gently.

'It's a bit rough, that's all, bein' around a child when I probably won't…you know.' She shrugged, though Joey could see through the attempt to make light of it. One of her nerves had been struck pretty badly. She wasn't looking at him either; either she couldn't, unable to keep herself emotions in check, or she didn't want to continue the conversation.

Joey knew all too well, though, that stifling feeling of trying to hide your pain. Many was the time he'd stuffed it all into an emotional bottle and corked it in order to stay strong in front of his siblings, only to explode later. She needed to process it while it was fresh, lest it come back to bite her.

He caught her under her chin, turning her face towards him.

'What makes you think you won't?'

Martina shrugged again, her eyes avoiding his.

'Look at me.'

Joey frowned. 'You look great!'

'I didn't mean that. I meant me situation. I'm thirty three this year with very little to offer and a bad habit of attracting the wrong sort. Not much chance of striking gold and meeting the right one with credentials like that to bolster me.'

'I think you're bein' a bit hard on yourself there, sunshine.'

'Besides,' Martina sighed, freeing her face from his grasp and turning her head away again, 'how am I supposed to meet anyone when I spend most of me time with you?'

Joey felt a pang of guilt at the bitterness in her voice. The idea of spending less time with her was too horrific to comprehend, but there was a ring of truth to her words he couldn't deny. Investing a lot of time in something platonic wouldn't necessary benefit her long-term – not if she was aching for the same sort of future he'd always dreamed of; marriage, a home, children. Those sorts of dreams involved going out and finding a person in a very-not-platonic way; to take up most of her evenings and weekends, as he had been, was wasting a lot of her time. Unless…well, it wasn't as if he hadn't considered

He'd been considering it a lot more than he should have been lately, what might happen if he tried to shift their situation into something a bit more romantic. And seeing her with a child in her arms, seeing her so at ease with a child in her arms, had unleashed an even stronger sense of want from deep within him. Joey's old dream, from back in the day, with Roxy and a child…it had never actually featured Roxy and the child in the same frame. Not once. Even when he'd seen Roxy with her son Eric, she'd always appeared aloof around him, hustling him to nursery or to his grandmother's as soon as she could get shot of him, dragging her feet to pick him up. She hadn't even seemed the least bit concerned, Joey realised, thinking back, about his whereabouts when Stan had unceremoniously chucked her out, leaving her on Joey's doorstep. She'd never even bothered to mention him, until he'd ended up there as well, sitting befuddled in his pushchair outside Number Thirty next morning. She'd always seemed to see him as a burden.

Martina, though…God, she'd make a fantastic –

Joey smacked himself on the head, then smacked his hand against the side of his Jag, forgetting for a moment she was still there and liable to notice. No, thinking about what a fantastic wife and mother Martina wouldn't do either of them any favours.

What are you doing, son?

He couldn't let his mind wander in that direction. Appealing as the idea was, tempting as it was to wait an appropriate mourning period and then ask her out properly, he couldn't simply dive headlong into something. Not when his own life was in such a mess, when he was struggling to find his place in the world again. He wasn't exactly marriage and kids material himself, with his lack of funds, shady dealings, haphazard attempts to become independent at home and string of failures in the relationship department (all tied to the same person, who had eventually left him at the altar). All in good time, Joey had been telling himself, he'd be healed, much improved as a person and ready to make his move – and yet Martina had made it clear time wasn't something she wanted to waste.

And yet Joey couldn't bear the thought of going back to the way they used to be, releasing her to find someone else and relegating their acquaintance back to formalities and the odd tiff behind the Social Security counter. How could he just forget what they'd shared? That other side of her? He'd held her weeping in his arms after she'd been knocked about by a claimant, she'd sat with him in the middle of a cornfield and put the first few pieces of his heart back together…he couldn't just act like none of that happened. He couldn't just pretend the little ember that glowed in his chest when he looked at her wasn't there either.

'Er – is your brain still with us or has it vacated your head for this conversation?' Martina was looking at him strangely now.

'Nothing, nothing…' Unsure what to do, what to say, he tried desperately to lighten the mood, turn his very real thoughts into a tease, hide them in plain sight.

'Eh, I'll tell you what…'

'If you say anything along the lines of if you're not married by forty I'll marry yer, then I'll slap you upside your 'ead.'

'Okay, I won't say it,' Joey raised his hands in surrender. 'I think I'd be a prize worth having, though.'

'Oh, give over, Joey,' Martina thumped him on the arm, and though he could see her pond was still a bit rippled, she was smirking in spite of herself, a little bit more cheerful.

'Look, if you wanna see each other less…' Joey said weakly, aware he didn't even vaguely sound like he meant it. 'If… if you need to…'

Martina shook her head. 'I didn't mean that. Not really.'

'No, you had a point, though. And I know it's selfish, keeping you all to meself like that. I am aware of that, I just…' he pinched the bridge of his nose. This was getting difficult, his noble side no match for that urgent, grasping need inside him.

'I don't wanna lose you, that's all.'

Something about Martina's countenance had changed at his remark, though Joey couldn't quite put his finger on what, or why.

'Neither do I.'

'If I could offer more of meself, I would.'

She shrank back a little.

'I don't think your pity makes me feel any better.'

'No, I meant it. Don't take this the wrong way, but it's not as if I don't…' Joey screwed his eyes shut, shaking his head. What other way could she possibly take it? Better to pull out of this conversation before he said something he couldn't take back. Besides, he couldn't be sure, just because she wanted somebody, that he qualified as a somebody she'd even consider.

'Look, I don't know what I'm saying. Just…do what you have to, okay? Don't worry about me. If you see summat that might happen…go for it, okay? You can cancel plans with me as many times as you need – and I'll forgive yer.'

'I suppose that's broadly what you could consider a compromise,' Martina smirked, the curve of her mouth melting into a softer smile. 'Don't…don't stop being me friend, Joey. I don't know what I'd have done lately without yer…obnoxious as you are.'

Joey couldn't help it then; he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her as close as he could.

'Grown fond of me, have you?'

'Don't gloat,' she grumbled into his shoulder. 'But I might have.'

It wasn't the best outcome he could have hoped for. The yawning chasm of unwelcome truth was still between them, the knowledge that at some point Joey would have to make up his mind about her; commit to her properly in some way or part ways. And he'd have to make that decision sooner rather than later.

In the meantime, no more bringing his siblings' children on their outings. If merely being around a kid could get her clock ticking this much, the sight of a few more of them and she'd be hitched up to some no-good Shifty-type out of desperation before he could blink. She'd been inclined that way before, by her own admission.

At least she'd said she wanted him to stick around. And that comment, for now, was enough to hold onto while he worked out what in the bloody hell he was going to do about her.

And, he realised, if he was ever going to have a chance, he'd need to tie up some loose ends for good. He'd failed miserably in his previous attempts, but he had no choice now. Either he moved on from wallowing about the past, or he lost the chance at a different future.

He was going to have to ring Roxy again – tonight.


This one was mostly filler with one fairly obvious reveal, but some pretty major developments are coming. And maybe this time I'll actually update sooner. Maybe.