The next day, Myka didn't seek Helena out as she usually did when her lectures and meetings had finished for the day. Unusually for her, she didn't feel like spending time with Helena. The night before, the awkwardness – she didn't want a repeat of it. And Helena's situation with Giselle was frustrating, both as a friend of Helena's, and as someone who had feelings for the woman that she couldn't – shouldn't – express. Myka hid out in her small cave-like office and calmed herself by getting out her small travel guitar and running through some exercises, followed by a few of the late Michael Hedges' extraordinary pieces. She was no virtuoso, but she was more than competent and quickly lost herself in the music. The intricate harmonics, the different techniques – it was part of what she loved about music. The ingenuity of humanity in expressing emotion was a thing of incredible beauty. When she was younger she was more interested in the technique, in the technicality of it, but as she'd grown older and more skilled, it was the beauty, not the technical difficulty of a piece, that called to her.

When she came back to herself and opened her eyes, she was surprised to see that she had a visitor. Helena Wells, leaning against the doorway, was watching her intently. She had in her hands a tray containing two hot drinks – Myka's usual offering to her.

"Hey, Helena," Myka said, flustered. She'd been so lost in the music, in her own mind, that she hadn't even heard the door open. "I'm sorry, I didn't even hear you knock."

Helena flushed a little.

"Actually, I didn't knock. I opened the door as quietly as possible so you wouldn't stop playing. I so rarely get to hear you. I'm sorry to interrupt. But I haven't seen you today and I thought you might like a pick-me-up."

Myka smiled gently.

"Thank you, Helena. That's so thoughtful." She put her guitar carefully back on its stand in the corner beside the small desk and quickly leaned over to remove the pile of test papers and other paperwork from the small chair against the wall. Helena sat down gratefully and passed Myka her coffee, watching her intently as she took the first sip.

"My God, Helena, where did you get this? This is not cafeteria coffee!"

Helena smiled in pleasure.

"Does that mean you like it?" At Myka's enthusiastic nod she continued, "I found a small artisanal coffee shop just up the road – it's a bit of a hike on foot but I thought you would appreciate it."

The coffee was a little cooler than Myka would have preferred but it was delicious.

"Is that Jamaican Blue Mountain?" she asked, incredulously.

Helena beamed.

"Yes, it is. I thought you might like it. And I…I owed you an apology after treating you so poorly last night. I do hope you will forgive me."

Helena smiled hopefully and Myka smiled back, feeling a little better about last night and the unfamiliar awkwardness that had sprung up between them. Helena leaned forward and touched Myka's knee lightly.

"So, you left early last night. Are you okay?"

Myka flushed slightly.

"Yeah, I guess I was just tired and…" she trailed off, searching for a way to explain why she'd left early when she always, always waited to chat to Helena for a while after the band finished. Any reason that didn't involve explaining that she was freaked out because Helena had been less than pleasant to her for the first time ever, and because Abigail thought Helena was jealous.

"You were thinking about Sam?" Helena asked, tilting her head slightly.

Myka nodded, biting her lip and feeling guilty. Because she hadn't really been thinking about Sam, other than in the abstract. She was tired of feeling lonely since Sam died, rather than feeling sad about Sam in particular. Helena squeezed her knee sympathetically.

"It will get better, darling, I'm sure."

Myka's heart thundered at the endearment. She very much wanted to hear Helena call her 'darling' in a different context. But she felt so damn guilty for feeling that way. She took a large mouthful of the delicious coffee so she didn't have to talk. There was a moment of not entirely comfortable silence, and then she tried to change the subject.

"So, did you and Giselle talk after your argument?" she asked.

Helena's face darkened.

"No. She wasn't home last night when I got there."

"Oh. Is that…is that normal?" Myka asked. She didn't want to pry too much into Helena's relationship with Giselle; it felt like she was exploiting their friendship for her own ends.

"No, not particularly. She has her own life and her own friends, as do I; we've never been particularly couple-y in that way. But she does normally sleep at home. We haven't ever really fought like this, to be honest." Helena pushed her hair back from her face with one hand, smiling at Myka ruefully.

"I think I'm usually much more likely to let these things go. But for some reason I was just so…bloody infuriated that she wouldn't look after her own daughter for one night, when I've been killing myself for the last few weeks to do my job and look after Christina. Sometimes…I wonder whether she even thinks of Christina as her daughter. We've been together since before Christina was born. It's never occurred to me that she might not love my daughter as I do."

Myka gave Helena a sympathetic half-smile, not entirely knowing what to say to that. She was pretty damn sure that Giselle didn't care about Christina at all, but she sure as hell wasn't going to say that to Helena.

"I'm sure that's not true, Helena. I've only met Christina a few times, and I love her already. It's impossible not to."

Helena smiled at that.

"She is rather adorable, isn't she?"

She began to recount a series of stories about what Christina had been up to for the last week at school, and Myka watched her, smiling and nodding at the appropriate places, and trying hard not to fall in love with Helena any more than she already had. It was difficult not to, when she was so enthusiastic and her face was shining with love for her daughter.

"She keeps letting me down, when it comes to Christina. I don't quite know what to make of it." Helena suddenly said in an almost-whisper. Myka was shocked when she realised that Helena was near tears. She took Helena's hand.

"Hey, Helena. Some people just aren't good with children, you know? I'm sure that's all it is. And you know, you can always call me if you need someone to look after Christina. It's not like I have a busy social life these days. I would be happy to help."

Helena looked at her in astonishment.

"You would do that? Really?"

Myka shrugged.

"Of course. You're my friend, Helena. If I can help, I will."

Helena's expression changed from astonished to thoughtful. And slightly pained.

"Thank you, Myka. That really does mean a lot. Anyway, I must be going, I've taken up enough of your time."

She gave Myka's hand a squeeze before letting go, and then stood up and threw her empty cup in the wastepaper basket. She smiled at Myka and as she was leaving, stopped in the doorway.

"It's a real pleasure to hear you play, Myka."

"Thanks, Helena. It was nice to see you," Myka said, smiling. Her smile faded as she heard Helena's footsteps retreating down the corridor. Why the hell had she offered to look after Christina, especially right after Helena had been complaining about her girlfriend who refused to do exactly that? Now it would look like she was trying to replace Giselle. She cursed herself silently and packed her stuff up. It was time to go, before she did any more damage.

Helena walked away down the corridor, sobered by her conversation with Myka. The fact that Myka had offered so sincerely to look after Christina if Helena needed her help was telling, and in complete contrast to Giselle's attitude. She loved Giselle, she had loved her for such a long time. But she was beginning to think that Giselle was not the woman Helena had always believed she was.

She decided to speak to Claudia. Claudia was her best friend, after all, and she wasn't one to pull punches, especially not where Christina's wellbeing was concerned. She found the young redhead halfway underneath the baby grand in the empty student union.

"Claudia. What on earth are you doing?" Helena asked.

Claudia jumped, banging her head on the bottom of the piano. She wiggled out from underneath, rubbing her forehead gingerly with the back of her hand.

"There's something wrong with the sustain pedal; I noticed it last night. I just wanted to check the wiring." She wiped her hands on her jeans and sat, cross-legged, on the floor.

"Sit. What's going on, Wells?" she asked, tilting her head slightly in concern.

Helena sat on the small stage next to her friend, leaning back on her hands and stretching her legs out in front of her.

"I am worried."

Claudia lifted an eyebrow.

"Giselle?"

"Yes. She refused to look after Christina, again. I am so annoyed, Claudia. Charles had to miss some dinner for the Guardian."

"You told me this last night, Helena. What's really bothering you?"

"Myka."

Claudia whistled.

"What's going on? Did something happen between you two? And what was that, with you and her and Abigail last night?"

Helena gave her a mildly offended look.

"Of course nothing happened between us, Claudia. I would never cheat. I just…I thought she was on a date with Abigail last night, and I think I may have behaved rather badly as a result."

Claudia gave her a look. The patented Claudia Donovan "I'm being patient with you but my patience is not infinite" look™.

"And?"

"And, I apologised and brought her a coffee from the coffee shop on Quay Street as a mea culpa. And then she offered to look after Christina if I ever needed her to."

"So what is it that's bothering you more? Is it the fact that you were jealous, or the fact that Myka is offering to look after your daughter when your own girlfriend won't?" Claudia asked.

Helena sighed heavily.

"Honestly, Claudia, I don't know. Things with Giselle are…less than optimal. She hasn't been home for weeks because of this thing in Milan, and as soon as she is home, she's refusing to spend any time with Christina - again. It was only for a few hours, for Christ's sake! She doesn't seem interested in me or Christina, and when she's here I sometimes feel like she might as well not be. She doesn't really seem present, if you know what I mean."

Claudia did, indeed, know what Helena meant. Giselle was incredibly hot, if you swung that way, but she was either dazzling you with her charm or she was ignoring you – there wasn't really any middle ground. And Claudia had suspected for the longest time that Giselle was just a gold digger and that she was running out of patience with pretending to give a damn about Helena and Christina.

"So what are you going to do about it?" Claudia asked seriously.

"I don't know. I love Giselle, but I am starting to wonder whether we really have a future. I was hoping we would be married by now, but she never seems to want to talk about it. She's always so focused on her career. Which I am absolutely fine with, usually – I take my career seriously too. But she never shows any interest in Christina. It's beginning to worry me. Do you think I have been…I mean, do you think that Giselle cares about Christina? Or do you think she just tolerates her because of me?"

Claudia chewed on her lip for a moment, thinking.

"Can I be honest? Without you taking offence?"

Helena nodded cautiously. Claudia studied her carefully before speaking.

"I don't know if I really believe that Giselle cares about Christina. I don't know her very well, but that's not for the lack of trying. She's just not interested in being friends with your friends. Or that's how it seems to me, anyway. My point is, I could be wrong because I don't know her, but she's never given me the impression that she cares about Christina as anything more than her partner's daughter – if even that."

Helena stared at her.

"Why haven't you told me this before?" she asked, open-mouthed.

"Firstly, because you didn't ask. Secondly, because I know enough to know that I should stay out of other people's relationships. And thirdly, because I know how much you care, and I don't want you to be hurt. But right now, I think the way she is treating you and Christina is not okay, so I thought it was time I said something."

Claudia was annoyed. She didn't want to get drawn into this mess, but Helena was being taken for a ride and if even she was beginning to see that, Claudia didn't think keeping her mouth shut was the answer, not any more.

Helena lay back, flat on the wood of the stage, hands behind her head as she stared at the ceiling.

"Jesus. Have I been completely blind this whole time, Claudia?"

"Love makes us do crazy things, HG."

They sat there together in silence for a while, and Helena suddenly jumped up.

"I need to go. Christina is due to finish school shortly and I need to pick her up."

"And Giselle is…where?" Claudia asked, pointedly.

"I haven't got a bloody clue. She stormed off last night and I haven't seen her since," Helena said glumly. Claudia raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"Thanks for the chat, Claudia. I appreciate you being honest with me," Helena said, giving Claudia's shoulder a squeeze as she jogged out of the student's union to pick up her daughter. Claudia sat there for a few minutes, worrying about her friend. Helena deserved a lot better than Giselle. If HG was finally coming to her senses, Claudia would do whatever she could to help. It was about time. She got up and made her way slowly back underneath the piano to locate and fix the faulty wiring.

That evening, a very thoughtful Helena Wells was presented with a contrite Giselle Williams, bearing chocolates and flowers and apologies. She apologised at length for her behaviour, and said it was the result of her being so overtired from her trip. Helena nodded and played along, returning the enthusiastic kiss Giselle planted on her as soon as she accepted the apology. But later that night when Helena was nodding off, Giselle mentioned another trip to Paris that was coming up, and Helena began to think again. Giselle had never apologised before, for any of her behaviour, and the first time she did, it was when she needed Helena to pay for something. It also occurred to Helena that this was the first time she had ever left Giselle to her own devices after an argument. Usually Helena was the one to apologise, to give in, to send a text message or buy a gift to smooth things over. That Giselle was doing so now – it made Helena think. She was also thinking about Claudia's words from earlier that day. Did Giselle just tolerate Christina for Helena's sake? It was true that she'd never been particularly maternal, but Helena had still believed that Giselle loved Christina almost as much as she did. But did she actually have any evidence of that? Lately, Giselle had been making excuses when it came to spending time with Christina. Entirely unbidden, Myka's open, caring face flashed through Helena's mind. Myka had offered to look after Christina if Helena ever needed help. And her own girlfriend, the woman she was hoping to one day marry, couldn't be arsed to even sit with Christina for a few hours to help her do her homework and watch some telly and put her to bed. It suddenly occurred to Helena that every time she brought up the subject of marriage, Giselle changed the subject, somehow. Or distracted her with sex. Not that she minded that kind of distraction, as a rule. As she lay in bed next to a softly snoring Giselle, her mind was filled with images of Myka in that ridiculously tight pair of jeans and fitted leather jacket that she wore most Thursdays. She idly wondered whether Myka would be as sexually forward as Giselle. And then she berated herself silently for thinking of her friend in that way.

Thoroughly distracted and unable to sleep, Helena decided to go downstairs and make herself some tea. Perhaps a nice camomile, to help her to get to sleep. When she sat down on the sofa in her silk pyjamas and sipped the hot tea, her mind returned to her own behaviour of the night before, when she had been convinced that Myka was seeing Abigail. The band was playing Smooth Operator – nothing too complicated, so Helena's mind had wandered a little as she played, and her eyes wandered, as they were wont to do on Thursdays, to Myka. As she looked over, Abigail put her hand on top of Myka's and looked at her sincerely, her head tilted to one side as they talked. Myka was blushing, and Helena knew that blush – she had caused that blush on many, many occasions. So she jumped to the apparently incorrect conclusion that they were on a date. The wave of jealousy that rushed through her at the thought was sickeningly intense. Helena knew that if she didn't sit with Myka during the band's break, Myka would be confused and probably hurt, and Claudia and Steve would want to know why – they were terrible, those two, for prying. (They really were the worst, those two, for gossip. Of all the people in the world she would have expected to end up as friends, Claudia and Steve were the last. She thought Claudia's more mercurial moods would put Steve off, given that he was so calm and serene all the time. But he loved Claudia like a sibling, and apparently the feeling was mutual.) To avoid any questions, Helena went to sit with Myka as usual and made polite conversation with Abigail, who was someone she had known for a long time, if not particularly well. When Abigail went to the loo, Helena couldn't help but comment on how well the two were getting on. She struggled to keep the acid from her tone, and she knew that she had failed when Myka had looked at her with that wounded puppy look that made Helena's heart ache. It all became clear when Joshua Donovan appeared, looking for Abigail. Helena was mortified.

Helena sipped her tea in her silent house, with her daughter and her girlfriend sleeping upstairs. As she looked into her teacup, she didn't see any patterns that indicated what her future held. She did, however, think that it was telling that she was sitting here in the dead of night thinking about a woman who was not her girlfriend. The girlfriend that she had always thought she would marry. It occurred to Helena then, for the first time, that she wasn't sure she wanted that anymore.

At that precise moment, Myka was sitting at the breakfast bar in her kitchen, sipping a mug of Horlicks. Horlicks was a malted milk drink that Leena had recommended to her years ago when she was having trouble sleeping during her students' exams. She'd always been a worrier when it came to her own exams and she'd found that it was doubly difficult to watch her students go through it because she had no control over whether they did well or not. She wasn't sure if Horlicks was sold in the US; if it was, she had never come across it. But it always helped when she couldn't sleep. This week had been a bit disconcerting, and it had left her feeling unsettled. She shrugged her shoulders and stretched to release some of the tension in her muscles. Helena was one of her closest friends (Pete, of course, had the role of her BFF, as he insisted on calling it) and it was strange for Helena to be mad at her or for things to be awkward between them. There was this burrowing, squirming feeling in her belly when she thought of Helena's closed off expression the night before, and the way the woman had almost run off earlier when they were talking about Giselle. Myka thought her words had been supportive and noncommittal, but perhaps she'd offended Helena without realising it. She knew that Helena was committed to Giselle and she didn't want to get in the way of that. Well, that wasn't entirely true. She did want to get in the way of that, very much so. But she knew that she shouldn't want that. She shouldn't want Helena Wells as fiercely as she did. She shouldn't dream about Helena. She shouldn't be sitting up in the middle of the night thinking about Helena, who was another woman's girlfriend. Myka might be a widow, but she was still young and free and single. Maybe it was time to get out there again. Sam wouldn't have wanted her to be alone. She sighed as she finished her drink and went back to bed to try to get some sleep.

After a quiet weekend and a pleasant Sunday morning spent reading the papers, Myka made her way through the wilds of Salford to see Rebecca and Jack Martino. She tried to make it over there at least once a month. Becky made the best Sunday roast, with home-made Yorkshire puddings and 'proper' gravy. And it was nice to be there, where she and Sam had spent so much time relaxing and talking. Myka couldn't imagine things being this easy at her mom and dad's home above the bookshop. She couldn't eat at home without feeling like her dad was watching her, judging her. He always had a comment about how much she ate, or told her to take her elbows off the table, or to stop fidgeting. She never felt relaxed at home, even when her dad wasn't there. His presence loomed somehow, whether he was there or not. When she was at the Martino house, however, she was so relaxed and felt so at home that she often fell asleep on the couch after stuffing herself silly with Becky's amazing cooking.

This week was no different. Becky told her she was too skinny, Jack gave her the best hug, and they ate and Myka slept like a baby for a few hours before waking up and apologising as usual. Becky told her not to be so bloody daft. She loved the way they spoke; it had taken her a while to get used to it, but now she deliberately sprinkled her own speech with Salford-isms that endlessly amused Helena. She sighed loudly as she thought about Helena, and Becky and Jack turned to her in concern.

"What's the matter, love?" Jack asked, his voice full of worry. His concern made her throat tighten and her eyes fill with tears. She missed Sam so much, and she was eternally grateful that she still had his parents in her life. They were some of the nicest people she had ever met.

"I…well…" she started, but then thought that maybe talking to her dead husband's parents about someone she had feelings for might be a little insensitive. However, Becky sat next to her on the sofa and put her arm around Myka's shoulders.

"You can tell us anything, love. You're allowed to move on, you know. Sam would want you to be happy. Have you met someone?"

"Well. Not really," Myka began, sighing. "It's someone I've known for a while."

Jack nodded. "Ah. Helena, then?"

Myka stared at him in astonishment.

"How did you know?"

"Sam. He knew you had a bit of a thing for her – he said the two of you were thick as thieves, but she had a girlfriend. He said that if she had been single, he wouldn't have stood a chance with you. And then you two fell in love, so he never mentioned it again."

Myka was stunned. It had never occurred to her that Sam was aware that she was attracted to Helena.

"I can't believe he knew – he never said anything about it!"

Rebecca gave her a squeeze.

"He knew you had a connection. And I don't think he would begrudge you the happiness, if you two ever got together. So don't be feeling bad on his account, or on ours. Because we want you to be happy too, Myka."

Myka found herself spilling the whole story of her week, how Helena had been acting, and how much Myka cared for the other woman. Jack and Becky were sympathetic and sweet and caring and Myka couldn't really believe how wonderful they were being, and how wonderful it was to really talk to someone about Helena.

"It sounds to me like this Giselle is taking the living piss out of that poor girl, Myka," Jack said. "She deserves better. She deserves someone who loves her. And so do you, Myka. Just give it time. These things have a way of working themselves out."

"I hope you're right," she murmured.

As she was leaving, Becky told her again that she shouldn't feel bad for caring about someone else. And gave her the world's biggest hug. Myka drove home feeling a lot better about the whole thing.