Connie watched as Rita tilted her glass up, draining the last dribbles of wine from the bowl of the glass and setting it back down in front of her, licking her pink lips before placing her hands flat, palms down on the table.

They had made progress, they had both agreed on that. Finally the ice between them was beginning to crack and thaw, leaving only cold running rivulets between them.

Rita cleared her throat and Connie blew out a breath between her lips and readjusted herself in her seat. Somehow, between their conversation they had become so at ease with one another that the silence now was no longer awkward, but comfortable.

"More?"

Connie asked, gesturing to the bottle that stood between them, condensation pooling at it's base leaving a pale ring of wood on the tabletop.

Rita leant back in her chair and shook her head, her eyes smiling.

"I couldn't."

She narrowed her gaze, as if wondering whether or not to say what she was thinking. She knew the barriers that they had broken down might not extend to that of actual friendship, not just yet , but when Connie let her head fall to one side, silently questioning, Rita found herself unable to remain silent.

"Come back to mine."

She said, with unintended bluntness.

"For tea..."

She paused, did Connie drink tea? Surely she was more of a coffee drinker...

"Is that an invitation, or a request?"

Connie asked slowly, a smile twitching the corner of her mouth. Rita felt her face flush and she pushed her hands together in her lap, her fingers pushing between her knees.

"An invitation."

She clarified, though she knew that there was really no need to, Connie knew very well what she had meant.

Connie pursed her lips against her smile and gave a slight nod of her head. Her face was partially in shadow, her lips were ruddy and her eyes dark, glittering like sea-soaked pebbles under the dim lighting. She cleared her throat.

"Lead the way."

She said simply, and slowly, elegantly, she pushed her chair back from the table and stood up, adjusting her bag on her shoulder as Rita gathered her things and moved ahead of her to navigate their way through the groups of people gathered at the bar.

As they neared the exit Rita stopped abruptly, both women recognising the man who stood directly in their path as one of the group who had continued to eye them in the reflection of the mirror whilst they had talked.

He was tall, taller than average, and as he pressed his pint of beer against his chest Connie noticed that across his knuckles were the inky dots of DIY tattoos.

"Excuse me."

Rita made to edge around the man, but with a look of drunken amusement he followed her movement, blocking her yet again.

Connie drew in a breath, irritated by this infantile buffoon. She placed a hand on Rita's forearm and with a grip that felt tight even through the fabric of Rita's coat, and sleeve, Connie pulled her around the laughing man and toward the door. His words followed them, crude words that they could barely make out, but the venom in his voice stung them and left them shaken as they pushed through the doors and back out into the street.

"Idiot."

Rita muttered, glancing back at the door, not once, but twice as she buttoned up her coat, and as she spoke Connie noticed how her lip trembled and she wondered for the briefest of moments whether these men had frightened her so much because of a past experience.

"I'll ring a taxi."

Connie said, overcome with a sudden urge to protect the woman shivering beside her. She pushed her hand into her bag and withdrew her phone, peering at the screen and tilting it so that she could see properly, avoiding the glare of a near by street lamp.

No signal. She began walking, feeling Rita close behind her. In the distance she heard the swing and slam of the bar doors, and again Rita turned to glance behind them. She paused, and touched her fingertips to Connie's arm, gaining her attention, though Connie didn't need to look back, she had assumed that they would be followed. She dialled and held the phone up to her ear when the signal bars finally appeared.

Rita folded her arms across her chest, not wanting to look around again, but the feeling she had of being watched made her skin creep and crawl as though it were sliding off of her very bones.

Unable to resist, she gave one last glance, just in time to feel the weight of someone knock into her, and all of a sudden Connie no longer had her phone against her ear and the side of her head stung from the sheer force of having the phone, and her hair, ripped from her.

A sudden aching shard of panic wedged itself deep within Rita's throat, she was paralysed, unable to do anything but hear the yell that Connie emitted, and to watch her running after the men who had taken her phone, they were all there, all of those men who had been watching them.

For far too long she seemed unable to move. She watched Connie give up only moments after she had given chase and she turned to walk back towards Rita, tossing her arms up in anger.

Without thinking Rita began to walk towards the other woman, her knee caps were shaking and her legs felt weak, as though they might just give way at any moment and refuse to work, leaving her lying on the floor, useless.

"Bloody..."

"Hey!"

Connie's curses were cut short by the sudden reappearance of two of the men at the end of the alley. Their bodies bulky shadows in the night though they could make out their laughing faces, their teeth oddly white against the blue of the dark.

"Give me back the phone."

Connie's voice sounded louder in the alley than she had expected, echoing and bouncing from the walls and bins left out for the next days collection.

The men laughed again, one leant back against an wall and lit the end of a cigarette, the lighter flaring violently, illuminating them for the briefest of moments.

"Come and get it!"

The man with the phone called, he held the phone up so that she could see it, the screen reflecting the stars above them as he waved it.

Connie drew in a breath, her fists clenched and unclenched at her sides. Rita stood behind her, she could feel the heat from the other woman, her rage blistering, her breath quick.

"Just leave it."

She whispered, but Connie refused to look away, her jaw was set and flexed and she narrowed her eyes, accepting the challenge.

She walked towards them with Rita behind her, allowing them to taunt and cat-call to them as until they neared.

Without a word Connie held out her hand to take back the phone, half expecting them to turn and run from her again, and deciding that if they did, she wouldn't follow again, she wouldn't play their games, no matter how many irreplaceable images of Grace there were stored on the memory of her phone.

Rita watched the exchange, Connie's outstretched hand, her little finger twitching just ever so slightly, betraying the bravery she tried so hard to portray. The man who held her phone sighed as though defeated, and held out the phone, making to place it within her hand, but as his fingers touched her own, he let the phone fall to the pavement, it hit the ground with a sharp crack and Rita saw the rest as though it were in slow motion, he grabbed at Connie's wrists, turning her and pulling her backwards against him before she had time to react, and as she herself made to move, there was the sudden jerk of an arm about her neck and a hot sweaty hand was slapped across her nose and mouth. Instinctively she screamed despite his hand and his grip tightened.

"Shut up!"

Someone hissed, and Rita swallowed, seeking out the dark form of Connie in the shadows.

"Make one fucking noise and I'll jam this in your aorta."

A voice whispered at Rita's ear, she could feel the hot breath and the cool of something metal press against her throat, she winced.

"Your aorta is in your chest..."

Connie spat, her voice low and thick with a lethal concoction of fear and rage.

Someone laughed and then another.

"Good to know!"

Two of the men spoke at once.

"Bring them over here."