Enjoy some Joey 'n' Evan fun, some loved-up Joetina (and a bit of minxy Martina; forgive me) and a pretty major development in Joey/Martina's relationship. And we are so close to the end now! The next couple of chapters will be wrapping things up (but there will be a few surprises along the way).
28
The fall of Joey Boswell
'Oh, God. The two terrors.'
Joey and Evan had practised their in-sync facetious smiles, and though Martina's lips pursed, there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes that Joey didn't miss. She'd been forewarned, of course, that after nearly a month of work setting it up they were ready to actually put their business into action, and would be gracing her with their presence down the DSS – but Joey was sure she hadn't been convinced they'd actually get that far. Nor was she prepared, in spite of the three of them going for a few friendly drinks these past few weeks and her getting used to Joey and Evan's friendship, for the combined force of the two of them on the other side of her counter.
'Double your fun, sweetheart,' Joey winked.
'More like me two worst nightmares come at once. So it's really happening, then? This business of yours?'
'Looks that way, doesn't it?'
Evan slid the paperwork over the counter for her to scrutinise.
Martina inspected it with a fine tooth comb; Joey could see her mouthing numbers to herself, counting on her fingers, making sure it all added up. It would have been impressive to watch, the mechanisms of the DSS lady mind at work, had he not had a personal stake in it. Martina was meticulous when it came to scrutinising claims, double and triple checking everything against the rule book, against current records, checking forms against each other to ensure consistency. She read through their entire business proposal rather than skimming, highlighting bits, pulling out an ancient adding machine and totting up the numbers, making sure she got the same figures as they'd put down.
'Should put in a claim yourself, sweetheart,' Joey teased. 'Your equipment could do with an upgrade.'
Martina gave him a filthy look and went back to it, taking a good fifteen minutes over it. And as soon as she'd satisfied herself that the papers were in order, she bombarded the pair of them with a barrage of questions about time frames, expected turnover, contingency plans, how the initial thousand pound outlay had been invested, until Evan let out a great snort.
'Who are you, then, Herr Flick of the Gestapo?! I'd expect less of an interrogation if we were prisoners of war! Do we qualify for the scheme or not?'
Martina sighed heavily, eyes rolling, although Joey was familiar enough with her facial expressions to see a hint of amusement hidden in there.
'I can't see anything out of order here. I'm impressed – you've actually put together something half-decent,' her mouth twisted as she pushed a form across the counter to them. 'You know the drill.'
Joey and Evan pulled musical pens from their pockets as one, holding them aloft and playing two clashing tunes at once.
'Oh, God. I knew the two of you joining forces would do my 'ead in.'
Joey chuckled as he added his signature beside Evan's on the form and slid it back.
'Oh – and, er, there's just one more thing we require.'
'Why do I feel like I can sense what you're gonna say?' Martina folded her arms. 'If my sense of foreboding is correct, you're in for it.'
'You see, for our business to truly thrive – and bearing in mind that I have had some misgivings with the tax man in the past, and don't wish to repeat my mistakes, of course…'
'Of course,' Martina said, rolling her eyes.
'We wish to take on extra staff – or rather, one more person to assist us with, oh, you know…doing our books, helping keep them balanced, that sort of thing. So if you happened to know somebody who was good at that sort of thing…'
Martina shut her eyes, then slowly opened them.
'This isn't an employment agency, Mister Boswell. We don't headhunt staff for businesses. Take out an advertisement in the paper if that's what you're after.'
'Oh, we prefer to recruit direct,' Joey shot her his most winning smile. 'Offer the position to someone we already know has the qualifications. It's not what you know – it's who you know in business, isn't it?'
Martina said nothing, but the slant of her brows, the curl of her lips and the tilt of her head said it all. Joey pushed on regardless.
'And we said to ourselves, didn't we, Evan, we know someone who'd be great at doing the books, don't we?'
Evan opened his mouth to do his bit, but Martina's raised hand had him stopping in his tracks.
'I hate to interrupt you before yer big theatrical cue, but I've been subjected to this little pantomime before, and I know it by heart by now.' She folded her hands. 'Let me save you both the effort. I told you at dinner the other night, I told you last week, I told you two or three times the week before that, and I'll tell yer again – I am not interested in doin' your books for yer. Get the idea out of your thick skulls, all right?'
'We'll pay you better than you get here,' Joey tried, aware he was fighting a losing battle.
'Oh, and how are you gonna afford that, given you haven't made a single sale yet?'
'It'd make it a real family business, wouldn't it?' Evan joined in the fray.
'I'd hardly call it a family business working with my no-good brother and the devious bastard I am currently seeing.'
'Wonderful, the way you see us, sweetheart.' Joey tutted. 'In spite of our devotion to you, we are as pests in your life.'
'Not half.' Martina shook her head.
'Are we to take it that you are turning down our offer?'
'Er – you are to take that as read, Mister Boswell. Remember that from now on.'
'Some you win,' Joey said blithely, 'some you just have to keep pestering until they give in.'
'Be off, the pair of you,' she made shooing motions with her hands. 'You've got your grant – go and get to work, and prove to me it's justified.'
'Much obliged to you,' Joey took her hand, kissing it.
'Likewise,' Evan flashed his teeth in a grin.
'Go on!' Martina insisted, though she couldn't hold in her smile.
'A round on me,' Joey was grinning from ear to ear as they stepped into the pub, 'to celebrate our official beginnings.'
He paused. 'Just the one, mind.'
The eldest Boswell didn't particularly want to encourage Evan in going overboard, but a celebration in moderation seemed justified. Now everything was approved, they could officially open soon.
'God, it's like pulling teeth tryin' to get approval from her!' Evan shook his head. 'She practically started holdin' those papers up to the light to check if they were real! Wouldn't be surprised if she had a little jeweller's glass in her pocket.'
'We did it, though, son. It's signed, sealed and delivered. Even Martina couldn't find a hole in it. We're on our way, mate. We're on our way to greatness!'
'Joey, it's a piddling little shop on the high street. Hardly greatness.'
'But it's our very own accomplishment.' Joey would not be deterred – and he could see Evan was made up too, even if he wasn't letting himself be optimistic.
'Eh – are you gonna get the drinks or what?'
Joey shook his head, pulled out his wallet and went up to the bar.
Martina had signed off on their business officially – another skittle knocked down, another piece falling into place in his life. And though she'd had her misgivings about the two of them teaming up, even she had seemed impressed by the business plan they had pulled together.
Aside from that, outside the DSS, it was all going spectacularly well. Joey and Martina had gone round Evan and Vera's for dinner a couple of weeks ago, and Joey had been astounded at how well his mate tended to his kids. The responsible side of him really came to the front, dispelling some of Joey's concerns about him. His kids were great, too – Joey had taken a particular liking to Evan's youngest, Daphne, who seemed to be Martina in miniature, complete with the most forbidding stare he'd ever seen on a three year old. She had also inherited her aunt's susceptibility to reacting when she got teased, as Joey discovered when they were leaving. She'd still been in his arms, clinging to him – the first small child who'd actually taken to him – as they'd said their goodbyes.
'Take you home with me, shall I?' Joey had joked, pinching her cherub cheek.
'No,' she shoved his hand away, glaring with all her might. For kicks, Joey immediately did it again.
'NO.' She held one hand up as though stopping traffic.
'Why no?'
She didn't have much reasoning yet, and that had floored her. But, much like her aunt, she wasn't easily beaten, and had reached up and retaliated, pinching Joey back and drawing a startled laugh from the eldest Boswell.
'Watch out, Martina,' Evan had said as he took his daughter back, 'he's gettin' broody already.'
Joey hated to admit it, but his friend's words had had a ring of truth to them. Spending this last couple of months with Martina had intensified his desire to start a family, bringing it out from its faint position in the back of his head and lighting it up at the very front of his brain. A couple of little Joey/Martinas of his own would be brilliant – and he knew, from his past experiences with her, that Martina wouldn't be averse to the idea either.
Still, perhaps it was a bit premature for all that. One thing at a time, he supposed. Mustn't get ahead of ourselves, must we? For once in his life, everything was trundling along as it should – pushing for more too soon might spoil everything. Better get setting up the business out the way and let their relationship keep blossoming before trying to make any more life changes.
He collected his pint and Evan's Scotch and returned to their table.
'Shame we couldn't have got Martina to do the books,' Joey said, clinking glasses with Evan. 'She won't be convinced, will she?'
'Thought you'd have worked that one out by now, mate,' Evan snorted. 'Martina won't be convinced of any idea she didn't put in her own mind first. And there's no changing her mind once she's made it up.'
Joey hummed his agreement. It certainly seemed that way. She'd refused to listen, all those years ago, when he'd tried to off-handedly let her know what sort of person Shifty was. And, of course, her Scotland escapade had really shown the extent of her obstinacy – she had wanted him to come back to Liverpool, and come hell or high water, she was going to make it happen.
'I've got to ask – was she always this stubborn, or have the DSS regulations just been drummed into her so long they've become second nature?'
Evan cackled over his glass. 'Not a bar of it. She was always that way. God, she's got herself into scrapes with her stubbornness in the past.'
He chuckled again. 'I remember when we went to Formby once…she would've been…four, so I'd 'ave been eight. It was a warm day… I remember we'd just had colds, and our Mam wanted to put cream on us to help us soak up the sun a bit. Well, Martina wasn't having it. Not for me, she kept saying, and she refused to let it anywhere near her. Mam and Dad tried everything…they pleaded, they tried to bribe her with ice cream, they threatened to smack her…she just stood there with her arms folded saying no, not for me.'
Joey let out a guffaw at the mental image.
'Eventually me Dad got fed up, pinned her and rubbed it on her arms whether she wanted it or not. And the instant he let go, she went straight down to the water and washed it off again.'
Joey practically buried his face in the table laughing.
'Told yer; once she's made up her mind about something, that's it.'
'I'd pay big money to 'ave seen her back then.'
Evan grinned. 'Hang around our Daph a bit more. It's like goin' in a time machine.' He stood looking at his watch. 'Ah, well. Best be off. I told our Vera I'd be home for dinner tonight. You can stop by if you like.'
'No, you go ahead, son. I'm headin' back to the DSS – got some unfinished business to attend to.'
And just to be obnoxious, he winked.
Evan made a face as he departed. 'She is my sister, you know!'
Martina had barely got two steps out the door at closing time when a familiar pair of hands landed on her waist.
'Er – you do know where we are, don't you, Mister Boswell?'
The grip on her waist tightened and Martina found herself swept up into the air and into Joey's arms before she could blink, his mouth gently eager against hers. A reprimand sprang to mind – not that it could escape her gob, given how it was currently employed, and the feel of Joey's hands around her, as well as the fact that she was half a foot off the ground, hitched up to be more level with his face and couldn't really pull back, were all becoming pleasantly overwhelming.
So much for not being inappropriate in front of the others. Oh, well.
And she kissed him back with every ounce of vigour in her.
'And to what do I owe this excessive greeting?' she teased when they pulled apart.
Joey hitched her up a bit again, clearly hesitant to put her down.
'Well,' he was wearing that wonderful grin of his – the one that had infuriated her for years, in part for its naughtiness, in part because he was so devastatingly, roguishly handsome when he pulled it that it had always proven very difficult not to succumb to those insistent feelings of attraction towards him. 'If a man can't come and greet his lovely woman at the end of the day, what can he do, eh?'
'Hmm,' Martina arched an eyebrow, 'and this dramatic display wasn't all planned to coincide with all the staff leaving for the day?'
'Would I put you in a compromising position in front of your colleagues? Would I?'
'Oh, I don't know, Mister Boswell. If you were up to something, you might.'
'Or perhaps I'm simply a man in love and I don't care who knows it.'
'You know, just when I'm in the mood to smack you in the gob…you come out with something like that, and…'
'And that frosty little heart of yours melts,' Joey said, and then his mouth was on hers before she could say anything else.
If anyone had asked Joey eight months ago where he expected to be now, he wouldn't have been able to answer. His life, back then, had been a great dirty fog, everything he wanted obscured, everything he thought he'd had slowly slipping away into the abyss – damaged relationship with his family, Roxy gone, stuck in a shop he didn't really feel passionate about, nothing and no-one awaiting him. He couldn't have imagined anything beyond the feel of the floor in his Gretna Green hotel room, the sight of the ceiling above him and an oblivion that only came from sleep.
And yet now, he was feeling released. He'd turned a corner, reached a happy middle between tending to his family and himself, his heart healed with the help of Martina's gentle hands.
He'd let her touch a bit more of his heart, it was all going well, he was pleased with where things were. He was doing something for himself for once, had a business he was actually excited about. He had friends (well, a friend-slash-colleague and a girlfriend, but still) after years of having none; his Mam and his brothers had dialled down their dependence on him.
For once, his future didn't seem like such a blank, or endless years of futility, living his life purely to help others get through theirs – and just to really remind himself that this was reality now, he gave up all pretence of being in control of the Boswell household and brought Martina home with him that night.
He was a normal person, after all, with normal needs, not some sort of indestructible machine designed to service their every beck and call.
And if he wanted to bend the rules slightly and risk his Mam catching him with a girl upstairs, he was just as entitled to try it on as the rest of them.
Not that he'd informed her of this plan until she'd breezed through another dinner with his Mam (it still amazed Joey that she could just do that, just come round and all would be well with her and the others, but she'd achieved it four times this month alone), Nellie had eventually gone off to bed and Billy had returned home late without noticing them and crashed into a coma on the sofa.
'Oh, well. I'll see you tomorrow, I expect.' She'd started for the door, and he grabbed her arm before she could disappear through it.
'Where d'you think you're goin'?'
Joey pulled her back, delighting in the way she curled against him, soft and pliant when he kissed her.
'Evening's not over yet, surely, sweetheart?'
She rolled her eyes, though the look in them seemed to mirror his own desire.
'Back to mine, then?'
He shook his head, and he clocked her face as it dawned on her.
'You're not serious?!'
'Aren't I?' he joined their lips again, and then again for good measure. 'Good idea?'
'Very,' Martina said between kisses, 'very bad idea. I'd be mad to go along with it.'
Joey assumed his most irreverent expression.
'But you're going to,' he sing-songed in her ear.
'Oh, yeah? Who's gonna make me?' She was wearing a pretty naughty smile herself, curled against him in a borderline inappropriate way for his family parlour, every ounce of her facial expressions and posture a come on that was sending sparks through Joey's body.
'I'm tryin'a kip here!' Billy's half-asleep voice wafted up from the sofa. He raised his head, squinting at them through beady eyes.
'Oh, hi, Martina.' And he was off snoring again.
Martina looked at Joey, a strange mix of confusion and mirth on her face, and shook her head.
'He's beyond help, that one,' Joey offered by way of an explanation, and she snickered, her light laughter vibrating against his chest. The sensation knocked Joey back into a state of arousal, squashing out any thoughts of Billy or anything else, and he kissed her again.
'Don't,' Martina broke away to command, as Joey's arm started to reach for her waist, the other for her legs, 'try and carry me up those stairs if you value your life, Mister Boswell.'
'Well, then,' Joey grinned naughtily, 'you shouldn't have called me Mister Boswell, then, should yer!'
And he swooped in, lifting her so suddenly she squealed, and swept her up to his room.
It was electric. Perhaps it was the sense this was forbidden, perhaps it was just their combined moods, but the rest of the evening was as bloody fantastic as Joey had ever known.
For a moment he felt a small surge of guilt at defiling his childhood home in this way. But then his mind was filled with the here and now, the feel of Martina's hands on him, the whisper of her breath against his neck, and he laid that guilt to one side.
He was well and truly entering a new era now, and this marked the moment he left the last of the old behind.
A chink of light peering through the curtains woke Joey, stinging his eyes until he grunted irritably and turned away from it.
'Joey?' Jack's underwater voice was slowly sounding clearer, the faint thumps at the back of his head coming into focus. It wasn't the light that had woken him after all—his brother was banging on his bedroom door.
'Joey!'
The bangs on the door became even more insistent.
'Piss off!' Joey yelled over his shoulder. He pressed his face into Martina's hair, groaning. It was too early in the morning to think about trying to smuggle her out without the others noticing; he'd thought he'd have a few more hours before coming to that bit.
'Joey, we know Martina's in there! Everyone knows she stayed the night.' Jack paused. 'I won't look. I just need to talk to yer. It's sort of…it's sort of urgent.'
'In a minute,' Joey moaned, sleep creeping back into the corners of his mind. The banging started up again.
'Joey, for God's sake, open the bloody door!'
Tutting, Martina slid out from his arms and got out of bed, jostling him out of his slow return trip towards unconsciousness.
'What are you doin'?'
'He's not gonna leave off, is he? I'm gonna answer it.'
'Like that?'
Martina turned her head to shoot him a naughty smile. 'He said he knew. Whether he can actually handle it is another matter.'
'You are a wicked woman.'
'Oh, don't start. You knew that when you got involved with me.'
Joey was well and truly alert now. He sat up to get a better view, snickering behind his hands as he copped a load of his brother's face. Only the DSS lady, intimidating as she was to those who didn't know her well, could pull a stunt like that and still come out on top. Jack looked petrified, jaw halfway to the floor. She was completely unfazed, throwing him off balance.
'What?' she demanded.
'Er…it's really nice to see you, Martina.' Jack's voice had climbed about an octave, taking on a distinctly eunuch-ish quality. His eyes were darting around; he was visibly trying not to look at her, though he couldn't help himself. 'How are you?'
'I'd be better if you could keep yer eyes on me face,' she'd absolutely beaten him to ribbons now, shamed him to the point where Jack could either play it her way or die of embarrassment. 'What d'you want?'
'Er…' Jack's hand raked through his hair.
'Go on. You said it was urgent.'
He swallowed, trying to keep his eyes on the floor.
'Leonora's gone into labour early and me van's clapped out. I need Joey to give me a lift to the 'ospital.'
'Can't someone else give yer a lift?'
'No, it's okay, sweetheart, I can…' Joey struggled to his feet, realising as he did so he wasn't exactly dressed, either. Oh, well. 'Just because I said I want a bit more independence from the fam-i-ly doesn't mean I won't help out in times of need. And I'd say this counts as one of those times.'
'Oh, God, Joey! That's a nice way to start the day, that is!'
'You didn't say that to her, I noticed!' Joey couldn't resist, nor could he resist howling with laughter at Jack's face when he uttered the words.
'You two are gonna pay for me therapy, you know!' Jack protested.
'All right, all right, I'll get dressed and meet you in a minute.'
'Put in a claim for it,' Martina said at the same time, and pushed the door shut in his face.
'This is your fault, you know,' Joey chided. 'I was a nice, upright lad before I met you.'
'Of course you were, Mister Boswell,' Martina snorted, tossing his shirt at him. 'You keep tellin' yourself that.'
Joey dressed in a rush, aware his buttons were wrong. He didn't really have time to deal with that, though. This was one of those genuine urgent calls – one he'd have to answer.
'Now –' he hesitated by the door. 'Are you gonna be all right, sweetheart?'
Martina smirked. 'I think I'll manage. Go on. Go and help him out.'
'Sure? Because you do realise you are going to have to navigate the Boswell kingdom without my assistance.'
'Go on!' Martina tossed his jacket at him.
Joey grinned and winked at her as he left the room, where he nearly barrelled into Jack.
'All right, son. Let's be off.'
'You know,' Jack nudged him, 'if someone had said my brother Joey would pull summat like that, I'd have told them to get their 'ead checked. What's happened to you?'
'What's happened to me, sunshine, is after watching me brothers and sister achieve the milestone of having a life of their own, I've finally caught up. And now I have handed back the mantle of fam-i-ly protector and resumed the role of brother and son – why shouldn't I get some of the fun I've been missing?'
'Eh, I'll tell you somethin', Joey,' Jack said, lowering his voice, 'I can see why you fancy her. She's got a great – '
'I can hear you, you know!' came Martina's voice from within Joey's room.
'Only, er…when you see Mam, pretend like it never happened. The only way she's copin' with you comin' down from your perfect pedestal like that is denial.'
She'd known it was going to be awkward, coming downstairs to face the Boswells, but there was no other way out (and yes, she'd checked whether climbing from the window was feasible). Honestly, what had Joey been thinking? She'd gone along with it, though; she couldn't place the blame solely on him. In the morning light, coming to inside the Boswells' house, having to show her face knowing they had all somehow realised what had gone on, any naughty thrill she'd got from the idea had vanished, replaced with the sobering, embarrassing reality that it was possibly the daftest thing she'd ever done.
Still, Martina did the best she could. She got through an excruciating cup of coffee with Joey's Mam (thank God Billy had already left for the day), both of them doing their utmost to ignore the elephant in the room, and stood as soon as she felt an appropriately polite amount of time had passed.
'I'll, er – '
Nellie pushed the rack of toast towards her.
'Help yourself.'
Martina shook her head. 'I'd best be going.'
'Stay a while.'
'I'm have to get to – '
'Stay a while,' Nellie's voice was commanding, and in spite of herself Martina sat at once.
'While you're here alone, I want a word.'
Martina squared her shoulders, though sat around the Boswell kitchen table, she lacked the usual air of authority she had behind her counter. This was the Boswell matriarch's territory; though Martina's modus operandi was to try and gain the upper hand, she was aware in this situation (and especially after taking liberties in the woman's home, with her son), she was going to have to show deference. She suspected she knew what Nellie wanted to have a word with her about – she'd been anticipating this conversation for a while; it was just a shame it had to come after what hadn't been one of her finest moments.
'Go on,' she said.
'Putting to one side that shameful display last night,' Nellie began, 'you're not a bad sort, I suppose.'
'Er…thank you.' Martina wasn't sure how to react to this.
'You know about Roxy.'
Martina nodded, confirming her suspicions to herself.
'You know what that…selfish, self-obsessed little Protestant tart did to my son?'
'I know, yes. And I 'ave no intention of following in her footsteps.'
'Well, I should hope not!' Nellie Boswell snapped. 'Seeing him walk through Hell and back all these years – you've no idea what that does to a mother. Anyone who does that to my son again – I'll turn her guts into a scarf and ask for forgiveness in Confession later!'
Her voice was ferocious, almost hysterical – Martina had suspected there was a touch of hysteria in her trying to get out, and it seemed she only needed to let her guard down a bit more.
In spite of this, though, the DSS lady couldn't bring herself to make a face or roll her eyes. The thought of Joey in his own personal Hell – whether of his own making or not – twisted her heartstrings something horrible, and she had half a mind to disembowel Roxy herself.
'I'd sincerely hope you would.'
Nellie softened at this.
'You know – when God handed out common sense, He seemed to pass over my children – at least where finding a special person was concerned. I sometimes wonder what my sons and daughter were thinking, bringing people like that through the door. Insulting our family, having babies and then rowing their way into a divorce… carrying on inappropriately in my house…'
Martina managed to assume a sufficiently humbled expression.
'If I didn't know better, I'd have assumed you were from the same mould – only our Joey told me about you. About what you did.'
She blinked. 'What I did?'
'In Gretna Green.' Nellie's voice was soft now; her hand came across the table, wrapping around Martina's.
'I owe you a debt of gratitude, really, love, for bringing him back safely to us. Heaven knows we were worried sick when he took off the way he did.'
'I was just trying to avoid the sack, but I'll gladly take the credit.'
With her usual sternness off the table, she'd resorted to a glib approach to try and diffuse the emotional moment. Not that it seemed to be working; Nellie just looked into her eyes with an expression that said she wasn't buying it.
'You and I both know that's not true.'
'I –'
'Don't assume I don't know anything, love. When I was seventeen, that Freddie Boswell of mine nearly got himself put away for nicking supplies off the ship he was on…he would have done, too, had I not covered up for him. When you love somebody, you go to lengths you never would have thought possible.' She narrowed her eyes. 'And you do love him, don't you?'
Martina nodded.
'Have you told him that?'
She nodded again, seeing something not unlike relief pass through Joey's mother.
'It's a pity my other children bent over backwards for people who turned round and spat on them. They could have learned a thing or two. All a mother wants it so see their children properly loved, you know.'
'I know,' Martina said weakly.
'And I've seen how much happier Joey's been since you've been around. I'd much rather you than that Roxy any day. I can't say you're what I pictured for my son, but… if anyone deserves him, it's you.' Nellie gave her a warning look, laying stress on her next words that indicated she wasn't yet forgiven for their overnight escapade. 'Don't spoil that.'
Martina smiled ruefully. 'It won't happen again.' She stood, feeling an end round the conversation and an opportunity to leave – but as she moved to disappear through the door she paused.
There was something about the Boswell's mother that made Martina want to try it on. There was an essence of Joey in her, somewhere beneath the surface, that compelled the DSS lady to tease her, to try and bring it out, to be cheeky.
She turned halfway back around.
'I've got me own flat for that.'
Her sense of humour wasn't wasted on the Boswell matriarch.
'You watch yourself, my girl. You're not too old to have your ears boxed, you know.'
Martina smirked, folding her arms and leaning against the doorframe. 'I work behind the DSS counter. You're gonna have to do better than that if you wanna keep me in line.'
'It sounds like you're planning to be around for a long time.'
She smiled in spite of herself.
'I should hope so, Mrs Boswell. I should hope so.'
Leonora delivered around midday, and Martina dropped round to the hospital in her lunch hour to see how they were all faring.
No sooner had she got to the right ward did she see Billy's grinning figure waving her over.
'Oh, hi Martina!'
Martina shook her head fondly. 'Hiya, love. Is Joey in there?'
'Er – I think so. They're all goin' soppy over our Jack's baby. Eh,' the youngest Boswell leaned in, as though divulging a great secret, 'it's another girl. Another girl! What d'you make o' that?'
Martina blinked. 'Should I make something of that?'
'Four babies in this family now – and all girls! There's definitely something funny about that!'
'It's prob'ly a coincidence, Billy.' It was somehow easier to slip into the habit of using Billy's first name than any of the others'. Perhaps it was the fact that Billy seemed at the best of times like an oversized child, rather than a Mister, that made the transition smoother.
'They called her Sally,' Billy said. 'Fancy callin' 'er that, I said. I thought Leonora was posh, I said.'
'Don't remind them, love. Poor thing might've ended up being another Ursula.'
They were still snickering about this when Joey emerged.
'Eh, that reminds me – did you sleep in our Joey's room last night?'
She saw Joey's eyes go wide, and he grabbed her by the shoulders, trying to steer her away.
'That's enough, I think, son…'
'I saw, yer, didn't I?! In the parlour! You were all over each other – and then, I saw yer, Joey, you picked her up, and –'
'Billy!'
The youngest Boswell's face and voice were far too smug. 'All that time you lot were all tellin' me off for my bonkin' habits – I never brought Julie in the house, did I?'
'You've brought Connie in enough times,' Joey rebutted, but his little brother seemed to take no notice of his irritation, jabbering ahead on the subject at a volume inappropriate for a hospital waiting room.
'Yeah, and Mam went spare, didn't she? And when our Adrian brought Magdelana round and she wanted to stay with 'im, our Mam went off her rocker, didn't she – eh, and when our Jack brought Rachel… but when it's our Joey, she acts as if nothing–'
'Honestly, Billy, what purpose is this running commentary serving? We've all 'eard your voice before, without having it rabbit on about anything and everything connected to this topic.'
'I'm just saying,' Billy said loudly, and Martina saw Joey wince.
'Can't you just,' Joey put a hand on each of the lad's shoulders, 'save this discussion for another time? Perhaps not in public?'
'Every time I make an observation,' Billy whined, 'I get you lot havin' a go – and I'm just pointin' out the obvious, aren't I? You're all at it, all of yer – and yet when it was me—'
'Bill-eeeeee!' Joey sang over him, finally getting him to shut up. 'Weren't you supposed to be meeting Connie this afternoon?'
That finally rid them of him – a mention of Connie and Billy was all smiles, bounding off with a youthful exuberance he was yet to grow out of.
Joey turned to Martina with an apologetic smile.
'God, I'm sorry about him. Gob like the Mersey Tunnel, that one.'
'It wasn't unexpected, love. Take a risk like we did and you've got to wear the consequences.'
Joey grinned, taking her in his arms and kissing her. 'Worth it. If I can't wake up with you every now and then, what can I do, eh?'
'Of course,' she murmured against his mouth, 'if you moved in with me, you wouldn't need to worry about anyone nosin' into what you were up to.'
'Are you askin' what I think you're askin'?'
'Given I phrased it very plainly, it's not rocket science to work it out, Mister Boswell.' She rolled her eyes, but it was hard to keep a smirk suppressed.
'You could wake up with me whenever you liked – minus the running commentary. And I could bring you a cup of tea in the morning...and force you to help me with me jigsaws...'
He gave a little snort at that.
'Move in with me,' she whispered again, delighting in the grin this brought to Joey's face.
'And can you picture me – a man of my calibre – surrounded by all that pink?!'
Martina smacked him on the arm. 'Watch it.'
'Well,' Joey considered, 'I can't deny, sweetheart, it'd be nice to have a bit o' space just you and me.'
His Cheshire cat grin came out.
'But that wallpaper's got to go.'
'That's going nowhere,' Martina growled.
'I might move your sofa and all…'
'You'll do no such –' she realised too late he was teasing her – and she was reacting yet again.
Martina rolled her eyes, holding her keys up to him.
'Stop picking me flat to pieces. D'you want to move in or not?'
Joey's hands closed around the keys, and for a moment she saw a wave of joy pass over his face.
'I just might take you up on that, sweetheart. I just might.'
