Rita lay on her side on her bed staring at the wall. She could hear her heart beat within her ear, ticking away like seconds. She inhaled slowly and exhaled all at once as she rolled over onto her back.

She looked up at the ceiling and chewed on the skin of her bottom lip.

With another sigh she hauled herself off the bed and pulled the hood of her onesie up over her head to keep her warm. She padded into the sitting room. She was lost without Connie, she had no idea what to do with herself. She had made dinner, and had left most of it uneaten, she had showered and had forgotten to use shampoo to wash her hair, and now it had dried oddly, tufting out at obscure angles and tickling her ears every time she turned her head.

She paused at the dining table where her phone lay, and without picking it up she flicked it on. It was 8:45PM. She wondered what Connie was doing now, and she hoped for her sake that Grace was behaving.

She picked up the phone and slid the screen to unlock it before running her fingers down the contact list, pausing over Connie's name. She frowned. She knew Connie had told her she would ring, but she couldn't help the urge she felt to ring her now, just to hear her voice.

Reluctantly she scrolled down one name lower to Dixie's and pressed call.

Holding the phone up to her ear she counted the rings and held her breath until she answered, and when she heard Dixie's voice she exhaled so heavily that Dixie paused.

"Are you alright?!"

She asked, and Rita could hear a rustling sound in the back ground as though she were eating crisps.

"No..."

She whined and let herself fall back onto the sofa, her other arm limp, the back of her hand touching the floor.

"I'm lonely."

She huffed, and the Dixie's rustling paused briefly.

"Oh, you softie."

She could hear the smile in her voice and she rolled onto her side, her face pressed into the back of the sofa so that she had to close her eyes.

"I'd come and keep you company if it wasn't for this storm."

Dixie added, the rustling returning, and she heard the sound of her biting down on one and chewing loudly.

"Thank you. I'll be OK...I just miss her...I miss being near her, I miss the smell of her..."

"Rita! You're being ridiculous."

Dixie laughed, though there was affection in her voice.

"I even miss her freckles."

Rita whined again, and pressed her face further into the sofa cushions, well aware of how hopeless she sounded.

"You're in love Rita, surely you remember how awful that is?"

Dixie asked, and Rita laughed, she knew all too well how awful it was to feel as though your heart was being ripped out whilst it was still beating, just because you were apart from the person you longed to be with the most.

She made a noise in the back of her throat and squeezed her eyes shut tighter. She felt like a teenager all over again, though she couldn't pretend that there wasn't a small part of her that enjoyed it.

"She's so beautiful, Dixie, even without make up, she's just...her freckles-"

"If you mention her freckles again..."

Dixie warned through a mouthful of crisps and Rita let out a long groan and sighed.

"You'll be counting them next, storing them up in your 'Connie spank bank.'"

She added once she'd swallowed and Rita let go of the phone, testing to see if it would balance on her cheek whilst she spoke and she flexed her hand in the air above herself.

"174."

She said without hesitation.

"I'm sorry?"

Dixie asked after a pause, wondering if she'd missed something.

"There are 174 freckles on her face."

"Oh for crying out loud..."

Dixie sighed, and Rita opened her mouth to defend herself but as she did so the doorbell rang, echoing loudly through the hallway.

"There's someone at the door."

Rita said out loud, although she was sure Dixie would have heard the bell.

"Shall I go? It's probably Lady Beauchamp's driver coming to whisk you off up to the mansion."

Dixie laughed to herself as Rita scrambled up from the sofa, pushing her hood down, and immediately rethinking and pulling it back up again. Whoever was at the door didn't deserve to be witness to whatever it was her hair was doing this evening.

"I only wish it were..."

She breathed, and made her way to the front door.

"Bye Dix..."

She said, frowning at the obscure shadow that whomever was on the other side cast against the glass of her front door.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do..."

Dixie called, and there was the rustle of the crisp bag again as she hung up.

Rita slipped her phone into the pouch pocket at the front of her Christmas onesie and slipped the latch on the door before opening it and peering round.

"Miss Freeman?"

A woman glanced up at the creak of the door opening. She was young, her hair pulled back into a tight pony tail and she wore a black uniform obscured by the number of items which she held all at once.

Rita closed the door, slid back the latch and opened it fully.

"Yes?"

She murmured, glancing to the black cardboard box that she held with one hand, resting her chin on top of it as she held out an electronic pad.

"Can you sign here, please?"

She asked, and without a word Rita signed her name.

"What is it?!"

She asked, completely confused, but the delivery woman just smiled and drew up her shoulders.

"It's a surprise, I guess."

She said, and carefully she offloaded the box into Rita's arms. It was lighter than it looked, though the weight of it was distributed unevenly and it wobbled as she took it so that she had to steady it with both hands before thanking the delivery woman and pushing the door closed with her foot.

She made her way back through into the kitchen and placed the box on the counter, reaching for a knife to open it with. She ran the blade between the folds of cardboard, slicing through the tape that held it together, and then, placing the knife back on the work top, she opened the box and reached in.

She felt the rustle of tissue paper, and cellophane, and she withdrew a bouquet of twelve perfect red roses, each just about to bloom, their petals crimson and unblemished, each stalk perfectly green without a single prickle.

Connie...

She felt her cheeks grow warm and she held them to her chest, dipping her face against them to breath in the sweet scent of them. She bit her lip against a smile, never before had she been sent roses, let alone such perfect ones!

She untied the red ribbon that held them together at the stems and reached under the sink for the one vase that she owned, a clear crystal one that had once been her mothers. She filled it with water and arranged the roses, taking time to touch each one, marvelling at how soft the petals were against her fingertips.

Setting them carefully on the table she turned again to the box and peered inside. With a hand she moved away the scarlet tissue paper and reached for a box. She set it on the worktop. It was a deep red with an intricate gold pattern of flowers and vines all over it, held together with a white ribbon.

She untied it and lifted the lid. Immediately she smelled chocolate, the smell of them so strong that her mouth began to water. She ran her hand across the thin piece of gold paper that was placed across the top of them, just the squiggle of a name she recognised to be that of the French chocolaterie in town. She had often stopped to stare at their window displays at Christmas and Easter, but never had she dared to enter, unsure whether she would even be able to afford one chocolate.

She removed the gold paper and stared down at them. Twenty four hand crafted chocolates lay before her, perfectly arranged and each one different. There were chocolates coated in nuts, some with flakes of raspberry and some the colour of gold. She reached for one she recognised from the Easter window display, 'nipple of Venus', she remembered the name because it had amused her. She raised it to her lips, taking a moment to smell it before biting off the very tip of white chocolate, letting it melt on her tongue before popping the rest into her mouth and chewing slowly, sighing at just how exquisite it was.

Carefully she set the lid of the box back over the chocolates and reached again into the box, she felt the cool neck of a bottle of wine, and lifted it out, frowning at the label, it was French, she decided, though she didn't recognise the name, but the colour of it was beautiful, a very pale pink that caught the light. She set it next to the chocolates and tipped up the box to put it by the back door, but as she did so she heard the scrape of something else against the cardboard, and when she looked in she couldn't help but laugh out loud. She reached in and pulled out the very last gift, a brand new copy of 'You've Got Mail'. With a post it note stuck to the front, and in Connie's beautiful cursive hand writing she had written:

'I couldn't bear the thought of Tom Hanks sounding like a hamster.

I miss you.

I love you.

Connie

X'

-1-

More again tomorrow! I hope you enjoyed it. In the next update we'll see what Grace and Connie got up to whilst Rita was unwrapping her box of presents :) xxx