And another long sabbatical from me, but in my defence I have been working three jobs and am wrecked. Have finally got around to posting, though, so enjoy lots of Joetina flirting to make up for it. Usual disclaimers apply.
18
The inhibitions of Joey Boswell
'I wasn't very nice to you yesterday.'
'In the business we call that a normal Wednesday, Mister Boswell,' Martina shook her head. Jack Boswell was the picture of cheeriness, grinning at her over the counter, but she knew him well enough to know it was a thinly veiled front for his anger. She'd been anticipating this visit for a while; it was all she could do to keep her face neutral.
'And the thing is, I might not be very nice to you again today.'
'And that's a normal Thursday and all.'
'You see, my giro didn't come yesterday,' Jack said, still cheerful even as he cracked his knuckles. 'And, er, I was sort of relyin' on that money, know what I mean?'
'And I seem to remember the particulars of your file didn't match up,' Martina played along. She'd had this plan in place for a few weeks now, given Jack had refused to revise the prank details he'd given her. And seeing his reaction when he realised he'd been had was priceless.
'In fact, I seem to recall a conversation where I reminded you that if you didn't put your correct details down, the Benefit Office might get confused about who to send it to. They might get it mixed up, you see, with someone else's file. So perhaps you can chalk it up to your giro bein' sent to the Jack Boswell somewhere out there who really is seventy-two.'
That riled him up. He was angry now.
'If you muck around with me, darlin', I can't be responsible for the actions of me hands. They move independently of me when I'm pissed off.'
He mimed a backhander in front of her face. Martina blinked slowly, kept calm, didn't flinch. Jack Boswell was rather like a big dog with no teeth – all bark and no bite – and unlike some of the unfortunate incidents where claimants really had climbed over the barrier and lain into her, she couldn't see herself coming off worse for wear in this situation. And so it was easy enough to glare right through his hand and pretend she hadn't noticed it.
'And I can't be responsible for the department following the information you've given us to the letter. That was your doing, after all, Mister Boswell.' She played her ace, slamming his file on the desk in front of her and pulling out the topmost form. 'Unless you wanna supply the correct details and have this little clerical error rectified?'
Jack screwed up his face for a moment, unable to find a loophole. He wasn't as on the ball as his elder brother in that respect.
'Go on,' he said, pulling a pen from his pocket. 'You always win, don't yer?'
Martina grinned wickedly. 'Always. Remember that next time you try and pull one over on me, Mister Boswell.'
'Don't get too comfortable, sweetheart. If it wasn't for my brother, I'd just mug you and take the money here and now. Count yourself lucky 'e fancies you.'
That knocked Martina more off-balance than his empty threats of violence. She gripped at the counter, hoping to God he wouldn't notice the flicker in her countenance.
'Will that be all, Mister Boswell?'
Jack's eyes were twinkling; he'd noticed how flustered she was. Oh, good; she'd given him ammunition of his own.
'For now, darlin'. For now.'
Martina couldn't even muster a comeback.
'You'll get your giro in a few days,' she muttered, and called next before he could torment her any further.
He had a good plate of food in front of him, but Joey's stomach was too unsettled to eat much lunch.
It was terrible, knowing he was using his dad's business to launder Yizzel's mate's money – but for once, Joey was earning decent money again, able to toss a bit more in the pot, keep a bit aside and splash out on luxuries now and again. And if he felt like showering Martina with dinners and flowers she would inevitably grumble about – well, he could at least do so without breaking the bank now.
He was getting on well enough with Evan, too. The bloke seemed a bit strange at times, liked a bevvy a bit too often for Joey's liking, but it was nice to talk to a fella around his own age again, other than his brothers. It was almost like having a new mate – if it weren't for the fact that they were both aware their relationship was built around guiltily doing dodgies.
There was something about him that looked familiar, as well. Something about his face, though Joey couldn't put his finger on it, rang a bell. Perhaps he'd encountered this bloke before. Could be – it'd been a while since Joey had been in the game; wasn't beyond the realms of possibility that he'd forgotten a face.
Yizzel's mate had been right – the shop hadn't seemed to suffer from it, though Joey still felt a sense of unease in the pit of his stomach about it. As soon as the few months specified were up, he'd be pulling the Place of Nonpoisonous Substances out, letting it go back to normal. He and Evan were both in agreement – do what had to be done, then cut ties, and it relieved Joey that his partner in whatever crime this was didn't relish the task either. Evan was a family man himself – of the wife-and-kids variety, rather than the stuck-at-home-with-his-parents variety, but he still understood the need to support them no matter what.
He put his spoon to his mouth, trying but failing not to listen to his family's current mealtime row.
'Really, Jack, a pinny at the table!'
Joey knew his Mam's disapproval was not so much his brother's wearing it at the table, but that he was wearing it at all, that he was still doing what his Mam called woman's work around the house while Leonora brought home the bread.
'Well, what else am I gonna do all day, Mam? There's nowt out there at the moment, and I'm checkin' the post every five minutes for me giro. If I don't keep meself occupied I'll lose me mind.'
'That's called suburban neurosis, that is,' Billy said.
Joey scoffed. 'Do you even know what suburban neurosis is?!'
Billy glanced at Connie, who smirked and popped her chewing gum. They were both snickering under their breath; Joey couldn't see this ending well for them.
'It's what happens to housewives,' Connie said between sniggers, 'when they can't get a screw.'
'Oh, that's it!' Jack lunged for the both of them, missing grabbing Billy by the shirt by an inch.
'Billy, take her out!' Joey pointed in the direction of the door. 'We've talked about this. If she eats with us, she shows respect. Okay?'
'I am 'ere, you know,' Connie insisted. 'I am a human bein' with me own set of ears. You can talk to me – you don't 'ave to go through 'im!'
'And if you want us to acknowledge you,' Joey snarled, 'you can start by rememberin' you're a guest in this house and acting accordingly.'
Now he was trying to step away from playing head of the family, Joey had decided, he wasn't going to hold back where Connie was concerned. He was just as entitled to the others to squabble– and though his sentiment differed from his Mam's, which seemed more connected to Connie's tarty behaviour, they shared an intense dislike for her, and a concern she was no good for Billy. Yes, she helped him forget Julie, but she was a bloody bad influence, and the more time Billy spent with her, the more reckless he became. (Of course, the fact that his Mam and eldest brother both disliked Connie hadn't swayed Billy. If anything, he seemed, in a belated fit of teenage-like rebellion, to be holding onto her more determinedly as a result, and it didn't look like she'd be going anywhere any time soon). Joey had made his mind up not to interfere, but that didn't mean he had to pretend to like her.
'I'm not a housewife!' Jack was still fuming. 'I'm just fillin' me time, that's all. That's all, I said!'
'You could spend time with your brothers,' Nellie remonstrated, 'Billy and Joey are only over the road!'
'Yeah, but then I get stuck with Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee,' Jack jerked his head in Billy and Connie's direction, 'on one of their mad daft escapades, or I have to sit there like a third wheel while bloody Harry and Sally,' a filthy look in Joey's direction, 'spend the entire day doin' sod all to hide their desire to bonk each other senseless.'
He got cuffed on the back of the head by Nellie for this remark.
' 'oo?' Billy asked, his gob full of scouse.
Joey raised his eyebrows at Jack in warning. He wasn't quite ready for Billy to know about Martina yet, given the combined factors of Billy's loud hailer gob and tendency to jump to conclusions, and the fact that Jack kept throwing around pointed comments about his and Martina's supposed lust. (Which, Joey supposed, was true on his end, but he was finding it hard enough as it was to insist to his brother that Martina was just a mate.)
'Aw 'ey! I need to be off soon! I'll be dead late!' Billy was on his feet, mercifully not for a tirade this time. It was his monthly visit to Francesca – an occasion which invariably resulted in tears or rage (or both) owing to Julie's hostility or Francesca's disinterest in her father, and on one occasion, culminated in fisticuffs with Julian and a black eye for the youngest Boswell. Today, though, he was bringing Connie, and Joey and Jack had placed bets on whether the event and ensuing disastrous row with Julie would crumble their relationship to pieces (Jack, evens on) or somehow bring them closer together (Joey, a resigned 3-1).
'Billy, it's not for another hour and she's only in Sefton Park – now sit down,' Joey gestured to the chair his little brother had vacated.
'So Mam,' Jack ventured, 'tomorrow night?'
'No, Jack!'
'I need yer, Mam! What are Leonora's lot gonna say if you're not there?!'
Jack had been trying all morning to convince Nellie to go to a dinner party with Leonora's family – ostensibly a celebration of the impending baby, in actuality just an excuse for the lot of them to get together and have a do (from what Jack had told them of Leonora's lot, it didn't take much to warrant one). The whole thing was a bit on the daft side, Joey had to agree, but seeing as it was supposed to be a celebration of the two of them, and Leonora's snobbish father had made a dutiful remark about Jack inviting his parents along, his brother had been relentless about getting their Mam to represent the side.
'Will you tell him, Joey? Will you –' Nellie bit her tongue, struggling with herself. 'I mean, it's up to you, love, isn't it, you need your space… but I'm sure you agree the whole thing is ridiculous!'
'They wanna celebrate, don't they?' Jack insisted.
'Celebrate?! What's there to celebrate?! An unlawful union with a load of posh nobs – likely Protestants as well, looking down their noses at us because we come from a hardworking normal background.'
'It's just dinner, Mam,' Jack tried to protest, but Nellie looked on the verge of pitching a fit.
'Aw 'ey, she'll make a scene, Joey – you do it, won't yer?'
'Me?' Joey flinched. 'Why not ask Oswald – it's more his crowd.'
'Oh, yeah, 'cause bringin' me brother-in-law's the same. Joey – I need someone to represent our family, don't I? How's it gonna look if neither of me parents turn up and I haven't got anyone else to stand in? Leonora's lot are dead set against me as it is. And I'm havin' a baby who's gonna be part of them. Least I can do is make sure the kid's family don't give up on it before it's born.'
Joey bit his tongue. This was straying into ambiguous territory – asking him to step in and represent the family was inching dangerously close to putting him at the helm again. Then again, if his Mam really wouldn't do it (and it was better for all involved, Joey knew, that Jack didn't ask their Dad, who would undoubtedly cause some level of embarrassment involving his trousers falling down), he was the most sensible option. He knew how to handle people, not to mention behave himself in public. And Jack did need proper help.
The eldest Boswell shifted uncomfortably in his chair, weighing it up.
'Eh – we'll go; it'll be a laugh.'
It was an uphill battle for Joey not to lean over the table and strangle Connie, but he managed.
'Hadn't you better be goin' to Julie's, the pair of you?'
'See – I told you we'd be dead late!' Billy was on his feet again, practically dragging Connie with him, but mercifully that got rid of them.
Joey stewed over it a bit longer, resigning himself to the fact that he probably wouldn't get out of it.
'So it'd be just me and a load of Leonora's family and her posh poof mates.'
'Bring yer missus, then, if that'll make you happy.'
'Yeah, all right,' Joey didn't even bother to correct him that Martina wasn't his missus, 'But if she's not keen, Jack, if I come on me own, I'm only stayin' an hour.'
'You sure you're all right handling things today?' Joey felt a bit guilty abandoning Evan in their dealings, but duty called. 'It's just…I'm gonna have to prepare for tonight.'
They'd gone to the pub in the middle of the day to organise a few things, a pint on the table for Joey, three Scotches for Evan – he was a bit too over eager on the sauce for Joey's liking, but the eldest Boswell had bought the round anyway in an attempt to butter him up.
'No skin off my back,' Evan downed one of his shots, then the other two. 'I can manage for one afternoon.'
'Cheers, mate. Eh – and don't 'ave any more,' Joey warned. Evan had a habit of getting completely bladdered if they went for a drink after work, something which wouldn't serve them well when it came to work matters. 'Be on the ball in case something happens, okay?'
'Jesus, Joey, you sound like me sister!'
'All right, I'm just sayin', that's all! We've got to have our wits about us!' Joey considered. 'You don't mention her much. What's she like?'
'High and mighty. Thinks she's Lady Muck cause she's got a "proper job". Not that I don't love 'er, but I wanna boot her up the arse when she starts banging on about it.'
'What's she do, then?'
Evan shrugged. 'Secretary or something. Puts a pay packet in your hand but doesn't do much for the soul.'
Joey smirked wryly. 'Least that's stable. My sister's a model – she's been chasin' a spot in the glossies for years. Now she's got kids and isn't as young as she used to be, that dream's slowly disappearin'. Don't know what she'll do with herself when she can't get booked anymore.'
He shifted in his chair, taking a large gulp of his drink. 'Never mind them, anyway. What are we gonna do, eh? We can't keep this up for long. Someone's bound to work it out. And the tax man's watchin' me as it is.'
'Listen, I've thought about this. We go along with it for a couple more months – we've got all the stuff they sent us, we hold onto it, then when we decide to leave, we've got enough on them that if they try to ruin us, we can turn around and ruin 'em right back.'
'It's risky,' Joey mused.
'What's the alternative? They play us then land us in it if summat goes wrong?'
'Point.'
'This way we're still in control of it. We can…' Evan shrugged. 'Minimise the damage, like.'
'You know,' Joey said, smiling as he downed the rest of his pint, 'you're a clever bloke, Evan. You and me could make it big one day. Once we've got this mess out the way.'
'I'll drink to that,' said Evan, sliding a fresh pair of glasses across the bar. 'I'll drink to that.'
'I don't know how I let you talk me into this.'
Martina fiddled with her earring and took a gulp of her wine, unsure what else to do with her hands. God, Joey Boswell could twist her round his little finger. Leaving her in confusion about her own feelings, disappearing for a couple of weeks, turning up like nothing had happened and picking up where they left off, and then appearing on her doorstep to invite her to a dinner party with his brother's in-laws – the man had no concept of consideration, sometimes, nor of propriety.
And yet, Martina thought, remembering back to how he'd been there for her when she'd been knocked about at work, sometimes he could be so frighteningly caring she didn't know what to think. And remembering that had been what convinced her to agree to go with him, to help him in return – after what had been a lengthy argument.
'Oh, come on,' he'd whined, ' We'll be lettin' the side down if someone doesn't represent the family!'
'And how do I fit into this little play? Last I checked I wasn't a member of the Boswell Royal Family.'
'You fit in,' Joey had insisted, 'because I will be bored, and because trying to be on me best behaviour in front of a load of posh nobs so they give our Jack the tick of approval, is gonna take a lot out of me. And being the generous and loving soul that you are, I assumed you wouldn't begrudge keeping me company for one evening and protectin' me from losing me temper if Leonora's family piss me off. You know, basic good friend stuff.'
'Good friends don't stretch that far. And apart from anything, the last I saw of your Jack he was waving his fist in me face.'
Joey had changed tack.
'Basic you owe me stuff.'
Martina scoffed. 'What do I owe you for?!'
'Roof over your head in a foreign country, that sort of thing…'
'It could be fairly argued that's been well repaid over the past four months. And I thought you said I'd done you a favour. Which I'd think cancels out any sort of debt for your bare minimum hospitality in Scotland. That's notwithstanding your appalling manners at the time. '
Realising he didn't really have a leg to stand on, Joey had given up trying to win her over with wit.
'Please.'
And though Martina was usually good at steeling herself, knowing full well Joey's penchant for turning on charm or sob stories – whichever was warranted – to get what he wanted from her, his genuine desperation had melted her and she'd relented.
Which was how she'd found herself spending a horrifically awkward Friday night in the one nice dress she owned, around a dining table with total strangers, trying to ignore the judgemental stares of Leonora's family and friends. God, it was dull. The music was worse than Joey's classical stuff; the food, for what it must have cost, was underwhelming; nobody talked to them; comments were thrown around about Jack's background and its impact on the baby that had had Joey ferociously gripping his fork. Martina had begun to realise her presence here really was to calm Joey down, judging by the tension in his hands as he stabbed at his meal. He was – rightfully – insulted, and while he had shown up to show support to his brother, he was leaning heavily on her support to stop himself saying something that might jeopardise Jack's future among these people. And so she did her best, laying a hand on his arm every time she saw him tense, trying to distract him with conversation as much as she possibly could. It was a good thing he'd come in Nellie's place, really – Martina was beginning to see the wisdom in that move. Nellie, from what she knew of the woman, would have been shrieking the roof down by now.
Jack and Leonora, the unwilling and dutiful hosts respectively, had done their dues, come up and greeted them, Jack far too smug at her presence there, Leonora friendly and oddly knowing – but apart from that, they'd been more or less left alone with each other, idly making jokes and observations about the other guests, Joey downing drinks at a surprising rate.
'Honestly, what was the point of that?! Rubbish!' Joey burst out as they were making their way back to the car, mercifully out of earshot of any of Leonora's family.
Martina smirked. Joey had had a little more to drink than she'd seen before – and though she wouldn't call him completely drunk (very tipsy, perhaps, and on the borderline) he was a bit more vocal than normal, a bit more careless with his speech, his suave elegance dropped somewhat.
'Did you hear those bloody speeches?! Posh gits, treatin' my brother like that. I don't see why I had to waste me evening in their bloody house.'
'Er – what happened to family unity? You know, that horrific concept you won't stop goin' on about when it gets you benefits?'
'Oh, yeah,' Joey muttered. 'Lettin' the side down. I forgot.'
He was rooting in his pockets now, rummaging haphazardly, his movements becoming more frantic.
'Where's me keys?!' He reached for Martina's handbag. 'Did I give 'em to you?'
'Eh – give over!' Martina snatched it back as Joey's fingers went for the zip. 'No you didn't. And if you think you're drivin' us home in this state, you've got another thing coming.'
The eldest Boswell sighed and resumed the rummaging in his pockets. ' 'm fine, sweetheart, no sweat.'
Martina put a warning hand on his arm. 'I don't think so, Mister Boswell.'
'I know they're in here somewhere.' Joey fumbled around in the inside pocket, producing them triumphantly. 'Ah!'
Martina fixed him with her sternest glare. 'You're not driving.'
'I'm not pissed!' Joey protested.
'No, but they're cracking down at the moment – and I don't particularly fancy seein' you in trouble. I think you're likely over the limit.'
'You've changed yer tune,' Joey grinned. 'Don't fancy seein' me in trouble, eh?'
'Er – I mean for drink-driving,' Martina hastily amended. 'I'm still lookin' forward to the day when I see you clapped in irons for benefit fraud…and it'll happen one day, Mister Boswell. It'll happen one day. Which is why I'm not lettin' you take that opportunity away from me by being done for a driving offence before I get the chance to ruin yer.'
Joey was chuckling, although she noticed he was still fiddling with his car keys.
Martina reached over and snatched them off him.
'Eh!' Joey protested. 'How are we supposed to get home then, Officer?'
'Get in the other side. I'll drive you.'
Joey looked shocked, but Martina had unlocked the driver's door and got in before he had chance to digest – or protest – this turn of events.
He eyed her suspiciously as she tossed her shoes into the back and adjusted the seat. 'This is a mutiny, this is!'
'Well, that's just a shame, love, isn't it, because either you let me take you home in yer own car, or we leave it here unattended and get a taxi.'
That one she knew would touch a nerve. Joey didn't like to be too far away from his Jag – this was, after all, the man who'd insisted he kept it close enough that if the four-minute warning sounded and they all died in a nuclear blast, he could at least 'go in style.' Leaving it half an hour away was not something he'd relish.
Joey held up his hands in surrender. 'All right then, Miss Bossy Boots. You do know how to drive, don't you?'
'Of course I know how to drive.' Martina rolled her eyes and started the car just to prove she could.
'Good. Because I'm tellin' you this now, sunshine – if you crash me Jaguar or put a dent in it, I'm gonna wallop you.'
'You've said that before, love, and you never follow through,' Martina taunted. Joey was always jokingly threatening to give her a hiding for something or other – and given he was the last person to ever actually do anything like that, she'd realised pretty quickly it was his way of pleading with her not to do something that bugged him, while still trying to hold on to some shred of an upper hand.
Which, of course, made her all the more likely to call his bluff, poking him with refrains of go on, then, do it, and carrying on doing whatever he'd asked her not to. He deserved to be taken down a few pegs.
'I mean it, sunshine. This is me Jag we're talkin' about. You put so much as a scratch on it and the gloves come off.'
'Oh, yeah?' Martina grinned at him. 'I'll hold you to that.'
'Eyes on the road, sweetheart,' Joey growled, turning her face away from him and back towards the front. He really was nervous, gripping the doorhandle even though they hadn't set off yet. Now this, she thought smugly, was going to make her day.
Joey gripped the doorhandle all the way back to Liverpool, telling her to mind just about every passing vehicle she encountered, reaching out to grab the wheel every once in a while and having to have his hand slapped away.
Martina would have burst out laughing – or murdered him – but that would have put them in far more danger than her fairly harmless driving, and so she held it in, controlling her breath and forcing herself to concentrate on the road until the bout of hysteria subsided and they were almost home.
'And, look!' she said, deliberately adopting a patronising tone of voice as she pulled up outside her block of flats. 'Your Jaguar has arrived safely, and not a scratch on it!'
'Yeah, yeah, well done, sweetheart,' it was Joey's turn to roll his eyes. 'Don't think I'm lettin' you do this again, though.'
'Oh, Heaven forbid.' She turned around in her seat to face him. 'Come in and get some coffee in yer before you try and drive home.'
'Oh, it's less than five minutes away, sweetheart! I doubt anything's gonna happen between here and there.'
'Joey,' Martina said sternly. 'The palace of Kelsall Street could be a stone's throw from here, and I wouldn't be letting you go off yet. Not in this state.'
'I'm fine! I doubt bein' imprisoned in the Pink Palace while you force coffee down me throat is gonna make much difference to me sobriety.'
'Nonetheless,' Martina said, taking the keys out of the ignition and putting them in her handbag. 'You'll do as you're told.'
Joey looked scandalised. 'You wanna watch it, gettin' Bolshy with me.'
She screwed up her face in a wicked smile. 'Since when were you in charge? I'm the one with access to your file. If anything, you wanna watch it with me.'
They were traipsing up the stairs to her front door now.
'Are you determined to drive me doolally this evening?'
'After all the times you've done it to me, I'd say it's well overdue,' Martina turned her key in the lock. 'And don't forget, Mister Boswell, if it weren't for me you'd be dead on the side of the road somewhere, done for speeding – or worse, takin' a taxi home.' She couldn't resist that last bit, nor the malicious smile that accompanied it.
'Watch it, sunshine, I told yer.'
'Or what?'
Joey swatted playfully at her and she dodged.
'Oh, if that's all you've got, I wouldn't bother.'
God, she was on form tonight. She was really doing his head in, a bit of payback for all the time Joey had annoyed her these past few months. Joey's slower reflexes and wit and amusingly drunken state might have played a role in this, but she wasn't going to waste the opportunity to tease him relentlessly either way.
'Now, you sit there,' she shoved him in the direction of the sofa, 'while I bring you something to sober you up.'
'I'm fine!' Joey insisted again.
'All right, all right,' Martina said, heading into the kitchen anyway, 'I 'eard yer.'
She drowned out his protests with the kettle, slinging coffee into two mugs – normal for her, quadruple strength for Joey.
She was following the protocol she normally used when her brother turned up having had a skinful, and needed to rest and sober up before going home to his wife. And though she probably didn't need to administer quite the same dose, given Joey was nowhere near blacking out, there was something to be said for seeing his face when he put it to his lips – and for seeing the way he jumped back as if he'd been electrocuted.
'Jesus! What are you trying to do, power an engine? How much did you put in?'
'Enough to shock you awake,' Martina replied, sipping primly at her own cup.
'How many times?! I'm not pissed! And this…' he waved a hand over his mug, 'I could've gone on a two-week bender and this'd still be too strong!'
'You wanna drive yourself home tonight, you'll drink that, Mister Boswell,' she applied her sternest DSS lady voice, and the eldest Boswell glowered at her and reluctantly picked up his cup again.
To give him his due, Joey did his best to endure the coffee without shuddering or making a face – though his acting in this situation, Martina reflected, was a far cry from his acting down the DSS. His mouth twitched, eyes watering – he wanted nothing better, she could tell, than to retch.
And she wanted nothing better than to watch him squirm.
'I maintain, sweetheart,' Joey said at length, giving up on it about halfway through the cup and plonking it down on the coffee table, dropping the act of decorum and wiping his mouth on his hanky, 'that the high voltage brew is unnecessary. Now will you relinquish my keys, please?'
'Mm, we'll see,' Martina's mouth twisted. 'Give it a few minutes to take effect.'
Truth be told, she couldn't decide which she was enjoying better – extra stolen time in his company, or the fact that she was thoroughly annoying him.
'A few minutes, sweetheart – then if you don't hand over me keys you're in for it.'
'You and that bloody car,' she snorted into her coffee. 'You've come over all possessive – anyone'd think I was making a move on your lover.'
'I want it safely returned to me, that's all.'
'You're honestly never let anyone else touch yer Jaguar before?'
'Well…once,' Joey said uneasily. 'Remember when our Billy started his sandwich business?'
'Ah, yes…and you came down to tout the benefits of sticking together as a united family, before askin' for the Enterprise Allowance Scheme on his behalf.'
'I may have given him a bit of incentive to stop his buskin'. Promised him if he could start a business and stick to it, he could take Julie out in the Jag for the day.'
A small part of Martina's heart melted at that. Much as she liked to criticise the Boswells' sickening unity from behind her counter, there was something endearing about Joey's eternal quest to help his siblings better their lives. He was still finding it hard, she knew, stepping back and letting them go off on their own, as much for their sakes as his own, and there was a touch of warmth in his voice as he reminisced now, thinking back to a day when the stress hadn't overwhelmed him yet, when his family were filled with a lot more happiness and unity than they were now. She could hear that ambivalent wistfulness coming over his voice now, so she tried to change the subject back.
'I can't imagine you being comfortable with your Billy at the wheel of your most prized possession,' she teased.
'Well, I did worry,' Joey admitted. 'Francesca was a baby back then, and I just kept praying if she was sick they'd hold 'er over the ashtray…'
'You know, most of us pray for things like the health of loved ones and an end to suffering. Not for their car they technically shouldn't afford to stay in pristine condition.'
'Oh, you know what I mean!'
'So, did you manage to avoid gettin' baby sick on yer lovely leather seats?'
'I did, I did…but it didn't smell right for a week afterwards.'
She howled with laughter then; she couldn't have held it in if she tried.
'Are you having a laugh at my expense, Miss Martina?'
'And if I was?' Martina squared her shoulders, challenging him.
Their eyes locked. Martina was finding it hard to keep a straight face – and though she'd been deliberately winding him up all evening, Joey's eyes were twinkling in a way she knew too well.
'You're gonna get it now.'
She felt herself smile, losing the battle with her gob.
'Says who?'
'Right,' Joey lunged for her, tackling her to the sofa and pinning her down against the seat.
'Eh – stop!' Martina giggled in spite of herself.
'I'll give you "stop",' Joey teased from above her, 'hijackin' me car, keepin' me prisoner here, poisoning me…you asked for it, sweetheart!'
Much as she was enjoying this, his knee was trapping her skirt; she couldn't fight back without risking damage to it.
Martina shoved up at him. 'Careful – if you rip me posh frock, Joey, I'll kill you. Unlike some people I could mention, I can't afford to go around replacing me gear every other week.'
'Fear not, I'm fond of that dress. No harm will come to it.' He shook his head in mock seriousness. 'You, on the other hand, are not so safe.'
Martina blinked, taken aback slightly by the implications of his comments. It was as if he was suggesting he wanted to – no, she couldn't jump to conclusions.
Better play it cool, she decided, be cautious. He was, after all, still a little bit off-kilter, despite what he was trying to insist.
'Oh yeah?' she said, doing her best to act her usual self, 'And what are you gonna do to me?'
Joey paused, considering.
'Hadn't thought that far ahead.'
'Losing our touch, are we, Mister Boswell?'
'Shh,' Joey laid a finger across her lips. 'I'm still deciding what to do with you. It's in your best interests not to provoke me, sweetheart.'
'Provoke you to what?' she pushed. Joey's face was very close to hers; there was a strange tension in his hands, still holding her down on the sofa; it was as if he was overcome by something – possibly the drink, but perhaps…
Oh, God, he doesn't do me any favours. She'd resolved not to think of him like this – she'd been determined to accept he had too much on his plate and silence that little piece of her once and for all. But Joey seemed, if anything, to be encouraging her, to be stoking those feelings within her – and she had no idea whether this was deliberate, or simply the actions of a man so consumed with everything else he was completely unaware of his own behaviour.
She hesitated, looking up at him, studying his face. Joey appeared on the throes of acting – in what way, she wasn't sure – eyes locked on her, concentrating upon her and at the same time distant. His mouth was inches from hers. His hand seemingly moved of its own accord, brushing her hair from her face, hovering in her hair for a moment.
Martina's breath caught in her throat, lips parting involuntarily.
And then he blinked, snapping out of it.
'Sorry, sweetheart,' he murmured, whatever spell he'd been under disappointingly broken. He sighed and sat up, though he pulled her with him, still holding her against his side. Something was disturbing him again, Martina knew – though she couldn't pinpoint whether she was the cause, or merely on the receiving end of Joey's attempts to resolve another emotional turmoil within himself. Whether he was wrestling with thoughts about her, or wrestling with his family and Roxy and his tussles with her were an attempt to cheer himself up. The fact that he wasn't quite sober muddied the waters further – Martina had no idea whether he simply wasn't himself, or whether he was freed from inhibitions she hadn't been aware he'd had.
He wasn't easy to decipher. His hand was on her leg, and she wasn't even sure he noticed. Or perhaps he did, and he was trying to see whether she'd say anything. He was staring into space, a wistful expression on his face, inside his own head again.
'Lost your train of thought there?'
'Eh?' Joey murmured absently, and then shook his head, blinking rapidly, his focus returning. 'You see – now look what you've done. That insane cuppa you made me's messing with me mind. I can't think straight. How'm I supposed to get home when the room's moving back and forth?!'
'Yes. That was the coffee, love. Of course it was.'
'I'm not pissed!' Joey insisted yet again. 'Strong brews always muddle me brain.'
'Stay here, then,' Martina shrugged. 'Sofa's free.'
'Might have to.' Joey pondered for a moment, then smirked. 'If it's not an imposition.'
'That's a mention of Scotland by proxy,' she smacked him on the arm in indignation. 'And you know what I've said about mentioning Scotland.'
'After bugging me incessantly all evening, it's the least you deserve.'
' I think a more appropriate response would be thank you, Martina, for coming with me to a horrible dinner where you didn't know anyone just so I could keep up appearances, and for getting me safely home so I didn't have to leave me precious Jaguar behind or end up wrapped round a tree somewhere.'
'Thank you, Martina,' Joey mocked, 'for puttin' me Jag in jeopardy, poisoning me and givin' pissing me off your best shot. I shall remember this night with immense gratitude…and work out how I'm gonna get you back.'
'And if I come to work on Monday to find another time-consuming pointless change in circumstances waitin' for me to sort out, you're gonna wish you were wrapped round a tree somewhere.'
Last time Joey had tried to 'get back at her' because of some petty row they'd been having, he'd come down to her counter and bombarded her with a slew of miniscule changes to all his family's records, adding two changes of address, switching them between Number Twenty-Eight and Number Thirty and then back to their original arrangement after she'd already updated the paperwork (with nothing but an oh, sorry to account for it), declaring income and then changing the amount four times in the same week, just so she'd Tipp-Exed and rewritten the details enough times to have to redo the whole thing on a fresh form. Martina, already snowed under that week, had been driven almost to tears by the vindictive addition to her workload, and Joey had thankfully realised he'd vastly overstepped the mark beyond what she found funny, apologised and bought her flowers and put some genuine hours in helping her sort out her mountain of paperwork that evening. He'd backed off and never tried anything like that since, but the DSS lady felt a warning was justified all the same.
'Nah, wouldn't do that to you, would I?' Joey pulled her in again, kissing her forehead. 'Learned me lesson.'
His breath was warm against her skin.
'No being cruel. I maintain I didn't mean it, though.'
'I know, love,' Martina murmured, 'I know you didn't.'
They stayed like that for a little while, and this was getting too much for Martina now, their physical (and dare she say it, emotional) closeness overwhelming. She pulled back, assuming her sternest voice.
'Right – go and wash yourself up, and then it's bed for you. You need to sleep this off.'
'How many times, I'm not bloody – '
' – Enough times, Mister Boswell, and if you say it again, you're in for it.' She pointed in the direction of her bathroom. 'Go.'
'When did you become me mam?' Joey slurred rebelliously, but he moved to stand all the same. 'All right. I'm goin'.'
He kissed her forehead another three times before he managed to get to his feet, as though each time he couldn't bring himself to stop doing it, had to help himself to another one, hadn't been able to stop touching her.
Martina frowned, puzzling over that long after she'd retired to her bedroom for the night. For someone who claimed to be in emotional tangle, still trying to recover from his heartbreak, he was pulling a lot of stunts that could be construed as putting moves on her.
People didn't normally bring just anyone to events like tonight's, either. There was normally some subtext around being somebody's plus one; any outsiders looking in would have made assumptions that would probably have been justified.
In spite of what she'd instructed herself earlier, she found herself thinking back to what he'd said at the precinct that day. Don't take this the wrong way, but it's not as if I don't… he hadn't completed the sentiment, and Martina had been uncertain as to what direction he'd wanted to take the rest of the sentence. He'd spoken to Roxy as well, the reason she'd eventually uncovered for his couple of weeks' absence – and with that out the way, perhaps tonight had been him testing the water?
Certainly some of the moves he'd pulled this evening seemed to fit with that theory. She could still feel his hands on her, the weight of him against her on the sofa.
Then again, he'd been drunk.
Martina settled back against the pillows, but sleep seemed a far-off and difficult hill to climb. Her mind was swimming, and for the second time, Joey was sleeping within close proximity to her – a thin wall and door separating them rather than a few bedclothes, but she still felt an odd sense of Scotland-esque déjà vu, the same guilty smugness about having him there. She'd tried to stop herself thinking it, push their conversation in the precinct away, convince herself no good could come of it…but that, right now, was impossible.
I'm going mad, she thought as she tossed and turned. He's driving me mad.
