Thank you thank you to my reviewers, and everyone that reads this. Here is the next installment.
Molokai
"Carolyn, you're being completely unreasonable!" Deborah snapped, her voice raised as she glared at the older woman from across the room; her lips were pouted, and she kept her expression as steady and furious as possible, one hand fisted against her waist.
Carolyn was perched behind Deborah's desk, fingers steepled and eyebrows quirked sardonically in a demonstration of unimpressed lack of care that trumped any that her employees had had to suffer in the past.
The loss of her desk was enough to rile Deborah up, but she had been sitting in Arthur's chair, leaning on arms sprawled over Martin's desk while they chatted over his paperwork, so she couldn't even stand her ground in her own territory. Now, Deborah was standing, one hand on her hip, one palm open to the world, glaring at her boss from beside Martin's desk, behind which the Captain still sat, hunched slightly with a pen twiddling between his fingers as he watched the two of them with wide eyes and pursed lips.
While this took place, Arthur was sitting in silence on the sofa, watching and acting on the realisation that the last thing he wanted to do was get between his mother and Deborah.
"As you have said, at least four times now." Carolyn replied firmly, the only sign that she was annoyed the way she placed her hands lightly down on the desk top, "That doesn't change my mind. You are doing this job."
"No Carolyn, we're not, because we refuse to spend our Christmas week flying Japanese golfers back and forth between Hong Kong and Tokyo!" Deborah retorted, huffing loudly, her chest heaving; she was fleetingly aware that Martin wasn't helping, and glanced towards him, but couldn't allow herself to focus on it, no matter how indignant it made her.
"Oh, do you speak for Martin as well now?" Carolyn asked, feigning surprise and cocking her head towards Martin; Deborah bit at the inside of her cheeks to stop herself from snapping back, dipping her head down and averting her eyes.
"I'm with Deborah on this Carolyn," Martin interjected, raising his hand so far as to waggle his fingers in a call for attention, his eyes still wavering tentatively between the women as he rested his head on the palm of one propped up hand, "It's not really reasonable to expect us to spend the whole week on GERTI; we'll barely be within our legal hours…and it's not really fair."
Deborah smiled indulgently down at him, and he returned a thin lipped smile with a shrug, but even so, she couldn't help but be enraged by Carolyn's demand, and turned back to glare at her.
"Well, it's irrelevant what the two of you want, the job has been booked, we will lose a lot of money if I cancel it, and a big loss might mean a loss of employment." Carolyn reasoned, switching tactics, and looking imploringly between the pilots, smiling wanly; Deborah held her position, taking mild comfort from being the only one standing, even though she knew she was fighting a losing battle, "Christmas is an expensive time of the year; we need the money that this job will bring."
"Exactly!" Deborah cried, raising her arm to point determinedly at Carolyn, "Think about Martin!" she gestured towards the Captain, whose eyebrows leapt to his hairline as he sat back, hands opening in surrender, "How's he supposed to earn money to live off if he's away at the busiest time of the year? He'll miss out on all the Christmastime break-ups and the giant presents that people need vans for!"
"That's not really-" Martin stuttered awkwardly, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment; Deborah wasn't much suited to care in that moment, and waved a dismissive hand at him (she was only being a caring friend) as Carolyn cut him off.
"Martin can argue his own case, thank you Deborah." She stated, begging no argument as she held Deborah's stare, pressing her hands together, "and if you are so worried about him, then feel free to share your salary for next week with him…" Deborah dropped her eyes, and glanced towards Martin, who shook his head and traced his eyes over the top of his desk; the flicker of guilt didn't make it easier, but she couldn't afford to slash her wages any more than they already were, "…I didn't think so."
"We're not doing it Carolyn." Deborah argued, keeping her eyes on the corner of Martin's desk; she folded her arms across her chest and stood firm. She knew that there was little choice in the matter, but Deborah couldn't not fight it; it wasn't fair to demand such things off of them.
"Yes you are." Carolyn shot back, making Deborah want to storm from the room and hide in her car until the other woman came to apologise and tell her that she had changed her mind and that there was no job after all; that wasn't really an option.
"But Mum, it's Christmas!" Arthur interjected from across the room. Deborah turned around to observe him, sitting on the edge of the sofa, pouting imploringly at his mother; thank you Arthur, was all that she could think.
"Arthur, you are all fully grown adults." Carolyn replied, sighing and shaking her head as she looked past Deborah's pointed glare, "It's hardly important that you're all at home to celebrate Christmas day."
"It's not about celebrating!" Deborah exclaimed, anger flaring up in her chest once more as she swung her arm upwards in a show of pique; it was entirely about Christmas day though, that was one day that she should be at home for, not forced to fly thousands of miles away, "It's about us refusing to work an unreasonable schedule just because you say so."
"Look Carolyn, I'm willing to look past the long hours so long as we get the right amount of rest, but it's not fair to expect us to work Christmas day." Martin remarked, leaning his elbows on the desk so that he could wind his hands together; Deborah watched and empathised with the furrowing of his forehead and pinched nature of his whole figure, "It's the one day a year that we're supposed to relax. I wouldn't mind having the day to myself, Arthur's excited, and I'm sure Deborah would much rather spend the day nearer her daughter than be miles away on her own."
Carolyn groaned and rolled her eyes, shaking her head and pushing her hands over her eyes. It was hard for Deborah to pity her put upon demeanour when the dejection that had been roiling in her guts made itself more pronounced at Martin's fair and balanced statement.
He was looking rather pleased with himself, and Deborah couldn't hold it against him for caring; she stepped back so that she could slump, resting back against his desk with her arms extended sharply behind her to support her weight. When Martin patted her hand in a show of solidarity, she only brushed it away.
Deborah did want to be at home over Christmas, but purely so that she could wallow in the sanctity of her own private abode, surrounded by comfort and familiar items that she could drown in. She would call her daughter, of course, but Chris had been unsympathetic when he had decided that they couldn't see each other; nothing malicious, he was just taking her skiing. It was part of their agreement that Deborah saw Verity each holiday, but she couldn't even find the energy to take such a treat away from the girl so that she could see her mother instead.
"Fine!" Carolyn eventually conceded, making no secret of her irritation as she threw her hands into the air and pushed the chair back from behind Deborah's desk; Deborah looked up and raised her eyebrows darkly, "You can have Christmas day to yourselves, but only if you fly the week leading up to it. I won't be swayed on that point!"
"That's still not fair." Deborah muttered furiously, but Martin slapped the back of his knuckles gently against her elbow, and she dropped her head down, glaring through loose locks of hair at the floor.
"That's more acceptable." Martin answered sternly, straightening his back and squaring his shoulders; probably making up for how un-authoritative he had been, letting her do all the work, Deborah thought fitfully, "We'd be…well, not happy, but we'll do it. Won't we Deborah?"
He glared pointedly up at her, quirking his eyebrows and smiling wanly in what he probably thought was an enticing and convincing way; Deborah wanted to say 'no, no I won't', but she didn't think that she could face openly disagreeing with Martin and then watching his face fall when he trusted her to go along with his orders.
"Yes, fine!" Deborah snapped glaring pointedly away from everyone, pouting at whatever fell into her line of sight, "But don't expect me to be happy about it."
"Good, I can cope with that." Carolyn retorted; she clapped her hands together once more, and then strode into her office, ignoring the burning stare that Deborah made sure bored into her back.
Deborah exhaled and let her shoulders sag, turning to look back to Martin; the understanding, pleased expression on his face was barely enough to placate her distemper, and it was with a rush of misery that she decided that their trip better provide some sort of entertainment, lest she go mad.
oOoOoOo
Deborah was still peripherally mad at Carolyn for going back on her promise of a free Christmas, but watching the disaster unfold around her went some way to remedy her bad mood, providing a sort of sadistic pleasure at watching the boys flounder.
Or…perhaps not sadistic…more…fond. If the warm and pleasant flittering in her chest was anything to go by, then Martin and Arthur's pathetic attempts at a flight-deck Christmas were more…funny…than anything else.
It wasn't so bad being on GERTI. True, Deborah couldn't talk to her daughter until tomorrow, but she did enjoy being around Martin. He was the sort of friend that she could enjoy spending time with whilst sitting on opposite sides of the room without talking to one another.
And besides, whilst they had duped Mr Alyakhin, she had had a wonderful realisation; it didn't make up for the lost time, but it would cheer Arthur up, and perhaps the infectiousness of his mood would lift everyone else's spirits.
Carolyn and Arthur were doing…something, in the Galley while the pre-landing checks were completed, waiting to be called in for their seven minute Christmas. While Martin flicked the final switches and pressed the last buttons, Deborah rearranged the dented and stapled umbrella, and kicked their flight-bags to the sides of the room.
"Are we ready?" Martin asked, turning in his seat and eyeing the door; Deborah couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. She saw past his dismissals of interest in Christmas as the attempts to appear more Captain-like that they were, but there was still something endearing about his eagerness to celebrate with the crew, even going so far as to break at least a dozen protocols within the flight-deck for the sake of authenticity.
"Yes, I think we are." Deborah replied cheerfully as she walked slipped between their seats; she paused before she sat, and pursed her lips thoughtfully, looking to Martin for approval, "Maybe I should let Arthur sit in my seat? That would cheer him up after being locked in the cupboard for most of the day."
Martin looked confused for a moment, but then he drew his bottom lip through his teeth and nodded quickly.
"Sure, he'd like that." He agreed, then Martin leaned back in his chair and extended his arm towards the far arm of his seat, patting its edge and nodding imperceptibly towards it, "You can hop up here if you'd like – if it'd make things easier, I mean."
"Thank you." Deborah replied, pretending to tip her hat; she had forced Martin to discard his own when she had removed hers, by drawling and batting her eyes, and telling him that they couldn't celebrate Christmas when he was dressed to the nines.
Martin smiled, and as she squeezed past the control panel, she watched as his cheeks flushed when their knees collided softly. It wasn't an elegant move, and Deborah tripped forwards once before she could even reach the arm of the seat; Martin lurched forward and caught her, one arm going around her waist and the other settling at her shoulder to push her back to her feet while she aimlessly patted at his upper arm for support.
Deborah chuckled as she climbed onto the arm of his seat, lacing her arm over Martin's shoulder as his darted around her back when she threatened to wobble backwards, loving how he smiled and laughed lightly under his breath; long gone were the days when she would feel uncomfortable being close to him.
Martin still blushed whenever he thought, well, anything, but any misgivings about getting within three feet of each other had apparently faded into nothingness. It was a sign of their strengthened friendship. The only thing left that made Deborah think twice about interacting comfortably with Martin was the fact that it was…nice. She liked the fluttering in her stomach, and how…not unhappy, being close to Martin made her feel.
That was good in terms of their relationship, but bad in the sense that it was bloody confusing. She had spent the last few weeks trying to work out whether Martin was becoming…god forbid…her closest friend.
She had never had time to gain one before, too busy drinking and jetting about the world, but if she had, Deborah imagined that she would have been as attached to them as she apparently was to Martin.
"Are you up? You're not going to fall off?" Martin inquired, playfully tugging at her waist, fiddling with the buttons on her jacket.
"Yes, I'm fine." Deborah retorted, shifting her arm around his shoulders so that she was more comfortable, despite her claims; she noted inwardly how nice it was having him pressed up against her, it made her want to just turn a little further and wrap her arms around him, as did the thrilled flush on his face; those sort of thing should be ignored, "Call them in."
"Arthur!" Martin yelled, turning in his seat quickly enough that it made her wobble again, and she had to grip the fabric at his shoulders, which only served to make him turn hastily once more, knocking her again; eventually though, Deborah was balanced, and Martin continued, "We're ready! In you come!"
The flight-deck door burst open and Arthur practically fell through it; Deborah smirked as he looked with bewilderment around the flight-deck, before he spotted her perched on the edge of Martin's seat.
"You can have my seat Arthur." She explained, nodding towards it; Arthur's face lit up and he needed no extra instruction to drop into the vacant seat, stretching back and shifting until he was sitting tensed, ready for action.
"Okay, Arthur, your seven-minute Christmas starts … now!" Martin declared, setting his watch with a determinedly anticipatory glow about his cheeks; once again, Deborah couldn't help but muse on how much the man was enjoying himself.
"Hooray!" Arthur cheered, and from one of his gargantuan pockets he retrieved a tasselled party hooter, the sound filling the small metal room with a reedy sort of screech.
"Where did you get that from?" Martin asked, the bridge of his nose wrinkling as he peered at the object in Arthur's hand.
"Oh, I always carry one of these. You never know!" Arthur answered with his usual wide grin, as he shoved the object back into his pocket and leaned forwards, his hands clasped eagerly.
"Aaaaand off we go!" Martin declared; he spoke at three times the usual speed, and Deborah watched fondly as he reeled off each of the decorations and rituals that he had put in place, preening under Arthur's praise.
She couldn't help but remark dourly upon each, as in truth, the set up was so appallingly make-shift, that if it hadn't have been for the enthusiasm radiating from both men, the warning lights and the shoddy excuses for food would have been disappointing at best. Still, the wan smile didn't quite fade from Deborah's lips as they enjoyed themselves, and she leant her cheek against the side of Martin's head, her fingers tickling ever so slightly at the other side of his hair as she had to crook her arm around his shoulders to keep from toppling as Martin's movements became more excitable.
A surge of affection filled her chest at the face that Martin made when he saw Arthur's gift for him; he extended his hands to receive the mess from the steward, who grinned as if he had been awfully clever.
"… Oh … goodness. Is that my hat?" Martin inquired, physically straightening himself up and squaring his shoulders, pursing his lips as he forced back what must have been an aching desire to rescue his hat from destruction as it was placed in his hands.
Deborah leant forward to brush a loose strand of soggy spaghetti from the back of Martin's hand, wincing in favour of sniggering at the water damage to the cap; Martin shared with her an imploring glare, eyebrows knitted as he offered the hat for inspection, but she merely shrugged and directed his attention back towards Arthur.
"Yes, but made silly!" Arthur declared, raising his hands into the air and gazing expectantly between the pilots; as Martin opened and closed his mouth, Deborah failed to repress at small smirk, eyes fixed on his flustered surprise.
"Sillier." She drawled; Martin shot her a look, accompanied by pursed lips and furrowed brow, and he squeezed sharply at her knee; Deborah merely batted him away and tugged at his shoulders, which pressed him more into her side, but served its purpose in making him turn back to the atrocity in his hands.
The gift giving continued, and Carolyn arrived breathless having seen off Mr Alyakhin; all in all, Deborah thought that everything went quite well. Everyone was cheerful, if only due to a forced sense of fun to make up for the loss of an entire day.
Which only made her smile more brightly as she rested against Martin, whose arm had returned to help her balance, less of a guard now, more of a weight curled loosely around her back, his fingers curled almost unconsciously around the side of her waist, fiddling slightly with the material.
Their mood would lift substantially once she revealed what she knew; it was typical really that Martin hadn't remembered, but she supposed that it a certain pride came from being the heroic figure.
The alarm on Martin's watch bleated fitfully, and the crew let out a collective sigh.
"And midnight." Martin declared, tapping the alarm off by batting his wrist against his knee; it was testament to its cheapness that it silenced in seconds.
"Ohhh. Well, thank you, chaps. Best Christmas ever." Arthur congratulated them, stretching back in Deborah's seat and rolling his shoulders back until they clicked; Carolyn stepped back to perch on the jump-seat, and Martin shifted so that he was turned in his seat, making it easier for Deborah to settle back against his arm.
"Really?" Deborah inquired, quirking an eyebrow at him; it still baffled her, along with an air of resignation, how Arthur could take pleasure in such simple efforts; she didn't allow herself to muse over how that might feel, "You did spend a fair amount of it in a tin box."
"Yeah, all right." Arthur conceded, shrugging dismissively, "Well … well best this year, anyway."
"Not necessarily." Deborah drawled, ignoring the confused glances that both Martin and Carolyn were sending her, to meet Arthur's perplexed expression; the disaster of today would be worth his joy, "What about next Christmas?"
"Well, that'll be next year." Arthur corrected her, his eyebrows dipping in the middle; Deborah sighed but smiled nonetheless, pressing her hands together over her knees.
"Interestingly, no." Deborah remarked lightly, "You see, I have a little extra present for you, Arthur – and that is the information which, of course, as a professional pilot, Martin will hardly have forgotten," she gave Martin's shoulder a little pinch, and raised her head from where it rested atop his to take in the blank stares, "that as you fly from Tokyo to Hawaii, you pass over a thing called the International Date Line …"
"Oh … oh!" Martin exclaimed, his eyes widening as he whole face seemed to light up; she knew that it would be worth it in the end.
"… at which point you put the clocks back twenty-four hours. In a way, that makes this twelve oh-one on Christmas morning." Deborah concluded proudly, surveying the flight-deck and relishing the astonishment on each face. Arthur seemed fit to burst.
"No!" Arthur was practically breathless with excitement, and Deborah smiled across at him, leaning back into Martin, who was doing his best not to beam too wide, his eyes flickering about the control panel as if he were avoiding thinking too hard, though what about Deborah couldn't imagine.
"So my present to you, Arthur, is that we are all of us about to have the whole of Christmas Day off, in Hawaii." She remarked; the shade of red that Arthur's face was turning was a mite worrying, but Deborah decided that it was better to stay where she was rather than reaching across to pat him lightly on the elbow as she had intended.
"Oh!" Carolyn added to the mix of surprise and cheer; Deborah smirked at her over Martin's head, but still enjoyed the overall feeling of success that having the crew happy, all of them for once, brought. And she was the one that had done it.
"… some of us having had the benefit of a dry run." Deborah muttered for Carolyn's benefit, and was rewarded with a roll of the other woman's eyes and an almost imperceptible huff from Martin, who relaxed against her and rested his head against she shoulder. It took all of her power not to snuggle back.
And then Arthur seemed to explode from the need to share his joy with the world, and burst into song, splaying his arms wide.
"Get dressed you merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay …"
Deborah had to admit, for a day that had started off so dismally, it hadn't be too bad; so she had been trapped in a flying cupboard for most of it, at least it had been entertaining. And she couldn't complain of the company.
oOoOoOo
Late at night, in their shared room (Carolyn had given them the choice of a decent hotel of separate rooms), Deborah tipped her head in response to Martin's cheerful smile as he passed from the cramped bathroom to his bed.
He padded as quietly as he could, even though he clattered about reaching for his ancient laptop, and Deborah watched him only peripherally from the corner of her eyes as she sat cross legged atop her own bed, phone pressed to her ear.
It wasn't Christmas Day anymore for Verity, but it seemed that she was filled to the brim with skiing joy that she barely noticed, and talked cheerfully to her mother, oblivious to the sleep evident in her tone. Deborah was simply basking in the pleasant warmth that radiated from the centre of her chest at the little girl's chatter; the day wasn't a complete loss at all.
Verity of course didn't ask after her, what seven year old did? But she was pleased to talk about everything that she had done, taking great joy whenever Deborah crooned down the line at her, so that was something. She still wanted her mother to know everything that was going on in her life.
"That's lovely honey," Deborah sighed into the phone, relaxing back into the pillows that she had piled against the wall at the head of the bed; she picked at the knees of her pyjamas, carefully balancing exhaustion with the need to remain alert and not miss a thing, "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."
"I did." Verity agreed, and Deborah could imagine her nodding her little head, hair falling this way and that as she still refused to brush it; or so a twenty minute conversation about how Daddy forced her to brush it but she didn't want to revealed, "Except I kept falling in the snow, but that was okay because Daddy gave me lots of hot chocolate because he was sorry that my clothes got all wet and cold when I got upset about it."
"Hmmm, that's my girl." Deborah murmured, bringing her free hand up to clasp around her raised elbow as she settled further; from the corner of her eye she saw Martin glance across at her, a small smile alighting on his lips, and she couldn't help but feel a little lighter, "But you didn't catch a cold did you?"
"No, but Daddy put medicine in my juice when he thought I wasn't looking, just in case." Verity explained seriously, and Deborah nodded thoughtlessly; she supposed that it was sensible; Chris was a good parent, she wouldn't have thought of that, "Mummy? I had to fly on a plane to get here."
"I know you did." Deborah replied simply, allowing Verity to continue when she saw fit.
"Hm, because, I thought of how you were flying on Christmas today," Verity muttered, and it sounded as if she might have been focusing partly on something else, like a toy or a book, talking into the phone as if it were a business call, "and I thought of you flying the plane, but you weren't flying our plane, because you fly your plane, and we weren't on your plane, we were on a different one."
"That sounds about right." Deborah remarked, chuckling faintly and picking at her sleeve.
"Yeah," Verity agreed, and then after a short pause, "Mummy? Where are you?"
"I'm in a hotel in Hawaii." Deborah answered, glancing around the sparsely furnished room; she smiled fleetingly at Martin, who looked away quickly, blushing slightly at being caught watching her. Just for that, Deborah allowed her gaze to linger on his form for a few more seconds. He was sitting with his knees pulled up high enough that he could read the words on the tilted screen before him, the fingers of one hand tapping lazily against the plastic.
"All on your own? Where are the other people?" Verity inquired, her voice rising an octave in vicarious offence.
"I'm not on my own, Martin's here." Deborah corrected her, scoffing silently as Martin's head snapped up at the mention of his name.
"I don't know Martin." Verity muttered, sounding truly troubled by that fact. Deborah sighed, and rolled her eyes, but chuckled nonetheless.
"Well I'll put you on loudspeaker, you can say hello." She said, unfolding her legs from beneath her and waving her arm towards Martin, clicking the speaker button on her phone; as the crackling filtered through the phone, Martin turned his head and tensed, eyes widening in surprise.
Deborah gritted her teeth and scrunched her nose, waving her arm in wider arcs, ushering him over; Martin cocked his head to the side, and placed his laptop carefully on the bedside table, sliding his legs off of the bed, moving like a rabbit caught in the headlights.
"He's just coming now," Deborah raised her voice so that she could be heard, and placed the phone in the middle of the bed; Martin jolted to his feet, and ambled across at that, tentatively perching on the edge of her bed when Deborah scooched closer to the wall, "Say hello."
"Hello Martin." Verity's voice wafted happily into the air, and Martin dragged his bottom lip through his teeth, looking desperately to Deborah; she nodded encouragingly, waving him closer.
"Hello…Verity…how-uh, how are you?" Martin stuttered, bringing his legs up onto the bed and settling with his legs crossed, hands curling around his knees; he gazed desperately to Deborah as mirrored his posture on the other side of the phone.
She nodded quickly, smirking at his attempts to calm himself; it was funny, she thought as she pushed away the hair that had fallen over her face, how Martin seemed more terrified now than he had when they had first met. Deborah supposed that he was just afraid that he might say something terrible to insult either her or her daughter (his track record with children was appalling), but she had faith in him.
Besides, she wanted him to talk to Verity; her daughter had asked about him a lot, and been treated to many stories, but unlike Arthur and Carolyn, whom she had met, she could never seem to remember a thing. It would be nice if they could get along.
Verity had never warmed to Harry, and he had left them alone when she came to stay; Deborah mused that it would be a shame if she couldn't spend time with both Verity and Martin at the same time. She realised, as Verity's thoughtful hum came through the phone, and Martin's forehead furrowed as if he were listening to every fluctuation, that it might be nice to have a get together next time she had her.
There was no particular reason why, none that she could put her finger on, but it would be nice.
"I'm okay, thank you Martin. I've been skiing in the snow and got very cold, but I'm good at it anyway." Verity answered, and the stiffness left Martin's shoulders as he sighed in relief, apparently given enough proof that he hadn't messed up that he could relax; Deborah watched in silence, "But I already know about that, I want to know about you."
"Oh, okay…" Martin replied, rubbing the back of his neck, and hunching slightly towards the phone, "What do you want to know?"
"Well, I know you work with Mummy, because she talks about you a lot, but I don't know all the things about you, even though she says a lot of things." Verity explained plaintively.
"Oh, really?" Martin inquired, raising an eyebrow and smirking at Deborah as he looked up; she nudged his protruding knee with the toes of one foot, but he only scoffed and smirked all the more, "And…what sort of thing had Mummy been saying?"
"I can't really remember, because I wasn't listening," Verity remarked, and Deborah couldn't help but roll her eyes as Martin shot her a sympathetic grimace, "But, but Mummy said you helped drop the stuff on my party. Daddy got angry, but I liked it anyway."
"I…uh…I did help with that…" Martin told her, dragging his lip through his teeth; Deborah averted her eyes and shook her head, a smile peeking through; Martin understood, and spoke no more on the matter, "But, you, er, you know what?"
"What?" Verity repeated as only children can.
"Well, you wanted to know about me," Martin noted, and then adopted his 'Captain' voice, puffing out his chest and resting both hands on his knees so that his elbows poked out either side as he leant forward, eyes fixed on the phone, "And one thing about me that you should know, is that I like planes, and flying."
Deborah tried unsuccessfully to repress a tired laugh, but Martin still looked up to catch her eye before looking down once more, as she raised her hand to hide her smile behind the backs of her knuckles, fingers curled ever so slightly. Of course Martin was talking about planes.
"Mummy likes planes too." Verity interjected, and Martin nodded even though he couldn't be seen, lips curling into his cheeks.
"I know she does." He replied; Martin opened his mouth to say something else, but the little girl talked over him.
"Do you like Mummy?" Verity asked, brimming with a demanding tone of self-confidence.
Deborah quirked an eyebrow at Martin, more as a tease than anything else, and watched as his cheeks flushed pink, and he scratched at one arm with the other as she shifted her own arms around her chest.
"Um…yes…" Martin answered, his gaze flittering from the phone to her face, "I like her a lot."
"Good." Verity responded swiftly, "She's pretty."
"Yes, yes she is." Martin agreed, nodding through a thin lipped smile, and tentatively raising his head to meet Deborah's gaze.
The surge of tender moths rampaging through her chest was hardly enough to distract Deborah from the tingle in her cheeks that she cursed with all her power; she knew that Martin was only appeasing her daughter, but still, the it was the thought that counted, and the thought pleasantly unsettled her stomach, and had her pulling her arms more tightly around her chest as she swallowed and looked down at the phone, leaning back against the pillows that she had stacked to avoid looking at the bashful flush that spattered Martin's cheeks.
Although…she was ready to concede that perhaps he wasn't lying when he said that he liked her. They were friends after all…she really needed to get over the part of her that still felt like she had to make an effort.
"Prettier than Lizzie." Verity agreed, and Deborah once more had to hide her scoff, though this time so that her daughter didn't hear and decide that it was approval. Martin's eyes flickered helplessly up to hers, and Deborah mouthed 'her step-mother', before looking away.
"Well, I wouldn't know." Martin said apologetically, and Verity could be heard sighing on the other end of the line.
"Okay, I'm hungry now, I'm going to find food." Verity announced, and Deborah lurched forward to pick up the phone, holding it in the air between she and Martin, who wore crinkled expression of someone curiously bereft.
"Okay dear, I love you." Deborah cooed, her fingers curling around the plastic, obeying the ache in her guts that didn't quite want to say good bye yet, "Merry Christmas."
"Mmmm, bye Mummy." Verity responded, her voice wavering as if she were holding her phone away from her, "Bye Martin."
"Bye." Martin replied, and Deborah echoed him moments later, just before the crackling was cut off by a swift click.
With a sigh that made her chest heave, Deborah kicked her legs out and rolled her head, meeting Martin's blue eyes as he peered calmly at her, pursing his lips in contemplation as he rubbed his hands in circles over his knees.
"Are you alright?" he asked softly, tilting his head to one side as if to unconsciously make them even; Deborah couldn't find it in herself to tell him to mind his own business, and although she wanted to simply shake her head and see if he would move to her side and hold her for a while, like he had after the car accident, months and months ago, she couldn't make herself do that either.
"Why wouldn't I be?" she retorted failing to smirk nonchalantly, and settling for intertwining her fingers and looking down at them. To her relief, Martin nodded slowly, and though he frowned, he swung his legs from the bed and hoisted himself to his feet.
"I'm going to turn in," Martin announced as he strode across the room and flopped onto his own bed, closing the lid of the laptop that he had left beside it, "Make sure I'm up and alert tomorrow."
Deborah nodded, and hummed under her breath as she drearily kicked the covers back and slid under them, yanking the pillows from behind her back to curl onto them, positioned awkwardly on the bed, with no intention of straightening out.
True, it had been nice talking to Verity, and the residual glow hadn't quite faded from the lump beneath her throat…but there was nothing more depressing than when it was over. It wasn't too bad she supposed. She would see her daughter in a month or two, as per agreement.
It wasn't as if she would know what to do with her for more than the allotted stays, even if she had her; that was part of the reason that she didn't have her at all.
"Your daughter's lovely by the way." Martin's voice travelled from across the room echoing a little as if the shift into sleep-time had amplified each noise, and Deborah lifted her head to peer at him, taking in the cautious, but not nervous way that he wound his hands together and smiled wanly, "She clearly adores you."
"I don't know why…" Deborah retorted weakly, before she could stop herself; she blinked sharply as she saw Martins' expression fall, and he shifted as if to slip out of bed again, stopping with one arm propping him up; now that she had started, there was no point stopping, "There's nothing that I provide that her step-mother can't."
"It's not really about what you can provide is it?" Martin scoffed, gesturing flippantly with one open palm, barely meeting her eyes, his cheeks still red from before, "It's about you…and she clearly loves her Mum, regardless of the fact she's far away – not that that's a bad thing, I just…" Martin began to splutter, and Deborah raised an eyebrow sardonically, enough to push him back on track, "Hey, look at it this way – she thinks you're the prettiest."
She managed a truncated laugh, that didn't quite meet the air, but it helped Deborah to lay her head back down on the cushions, and pull the covers back up to her shoulders. From across the room, she could hear the rustling that signalled Martin's retreat into his duvet.
The dull ache in her chest hadn't receded, but it was under threat from being conquered by the prickles of warmth that just the thought of him on the other side of the room produced; in reality his words meant very little, his knowledge of her situation sparse as it was, and yet, Deborah couldn't help but feel a little dizzy at his attempts to comfort her. Good old Martin, she mused.
"Martin?" Deborah spoke quietly, but in the stiffness of the silence, the sound carried. There was another rustle as Martin rolled over.
"Yes?" he replied curiously; Deborah wetted her lips, and focused upon the fleeting thought that had stolen her voice before.
"Are you sure you want to spend tomorrow at the pool…" she inquired, rubbing the thin covers between her fingers, "…on your own?"
"I can't see what else I'm going to do." Martin remarked wryly; he was just about visible, turning his head towards her, lying on his back, "Why?"
"Well, I was thinking…seeing as it's technically Christmas again, we could have a nosey around and see if there's anything interesting to do…together." Deborah explained nonchalantly, peering across the room and listening for some reaction.
There was a pause, but after what sounded like a hearty exhale, Martin answered.
"That sounds nice." He stated plainly, as if he were holding back, "I'd like that."
"Good." Deborah replied, and without another word, she rolled so that she was facing the wall, cocooned in her covers, and closed her eyes, forcing herself into darkness.
Perhaps Christmas could be salvaged after all.
This isn't as script heavy as usual, and I digressed a lot. To be honest, I'm not 100% happy with it, but nevermind