Rita awoke the next morning with a smile on her face. Winter sunshine pooled in through the thin curtains at her window and made her squint as she opened her eyes, stretching out across the bed, her arms above her head, and she released a low, happy moan from within her chest.

She licked her lips, remembering the chocolates she had eaten the night before, pleasantly surprised that she didn't feel sick from eating nearly half of the box.

She kicked her legs free of the duvet and sat up. She had thought she would feel nervous. After all, today was the day that she was going to meet Grace properly, and she was well aware of what she could be like, but instead she felt blissfully happy and content for the first time in weeks, and she was determined that she would make a difference...she would convince Grace to like her for Connie's sake, whatever it took.

She cleared her throat and slipped out of the bed, taking her phone from the bedside table as she did so, the screen showed one new message. She opened it, her stomach wincing with excitement just at the sight of Connie's name.

"Good morning sweetheart X"

Was all it said, but that was enough to make her give a little squeal of happiness, and when she looked up, she realised she had wandered into the bathroom instead of the sitting room.

Meanwhile Connie was busying herself with breakfast whilst Grace read quietly at the dining table.

She spooned porridge into two bowls with a wooden spoon and reached for an apple from the fruit bowl, rolling it about in the palm of her hand before taking up the grater, and she glanced at Grace as she grated apple onto the porridge, the steam rising into her face.

Grace had only been here for one night, and already, here she was, all used up. The self she had convinced she would become upon Grace's arrival was already disappearing a little more each minute, so thin, so frail, a wisp of smoke, and she wondered would Grace notice at all if she disappeared altogether?

"Fuck!"

There was the sudden sharp sting of the grater against her knuckles and she let the remainder of the apple fall into her bowl. She raised her hand to her mouth and pressed her tongue against the blood, tasting the tang of it in her mouth.

"I heard that."

Grace said, not looking up from her book.

"Melissa says swearing shows poor vocabulary."

She added with a sigh, and she turned a page, her lips pursed, eyebrows raised.

Connie clenched her hand into a fist and looked down to where the skin was shaved clean off, the pressure of her fist making the blood come quicker and she took a minute to breathe before responding.

"I thought we could go to the Circus this afternoon."

She said coolly, surely such an innocent suggestion couldn't add to the tension within the room any more.

Grace had refused to go to bed until midnight the night before, and still she didn't seem to be tired, though Connie could feel her eyes were dry, and her head ached, and when she placed Grace's bowl in front of her, and sat down to her own, she realised she was slouching.

"Grace?"

She said, when the little girl refused to respond, and she looked up, her dark eyes wide.

"I thought we could visit the circus this afternoon...you could invite a friend?"

She said, and Grace's eyes lit up, perhaps she really hadn't heard her the first time she had spoken. She did have a tendency to get lost in books the way Connie herself had done as a child.

"Can I ask Florence?"

She asked, and Connie bit her tongue against correcting her 'can I', to 'May I...'

"Of course. I'll call her mother after breakfast."

She said, dipping her spoon into the porridge, watching as Grace grinned, set down her book and reached for her own spoon.

Connie raised a spoonful to her lips to blow on it, contemplating her next question. She could feel it there within her throat but somehow coaxing it up to her lips was causing a problem.

She touched the porridge to her tongue, testing the temperature before placing it into her mouth. She could feel the sting of her knuckles again as she moved her hand, and she swallowed.

"Would you mind if I asked somebody to come with us, too?"

She asked slowly, as casually as she could manage, but still she felt Grace stiffen on the other side of the table and she looked up at her, spoon raised before her, a large helping of porridge slipping and dropping back into the bowl with a 'plop'.

"Who?"

She asked, though Connie knew all too well she suspected it might be a man.

"She's called Rita."

She answered, and gave her breakfast another stir, finding it increasingly difficult to meet Grace's gaze.

"Who is Rita?"

Grace asked, spitting her name out with disdain.

Connie cleared her throat, refusing to react.

"A friend, darling. Just a friend."

She murmured, and Grace shrugged and turned back to her food.

"Sure, I don't mind."

She sighed, turning her book back over, signalling the end of their conversation.

And with an exhale of relief Connie reached out to the radio on the dresser next to the table and flicked it on, all too aware that this lie she had told had seemed far too easy...and she knew deep down that it was never the lie itself that caused the problem; but the distance that lie forged between the people involved.

-1-

More later! I'll see if any of you would like anything particular to happen before I begin writing, seeings I just missed one that could have been included in the last chapter :) xxx