Connie stood up, her arms falling to her sides, her eyes on the stairs, to where Grace had disappeared from.

Rita looked at her, her heart ached for her. She longed to reach out for her, to hold her close and tell her that it would be OK, but she knew Grace, and she knew that whatever she said, she couldn't be certain of it being true.

"What're you going to do?"

She said eventually, her voice barely a whisper though she hadn't meant for it to sound so weak, it had merely stuck in her throat, unwilling to be heard.

Connie drew up her shoulders and breathed in slowly.

"I suppose I should go and try to sort this out."

She said through an exhale, her words breathy and hopeless.

Rita glanced towards the top of the stairs, she could well imagine how much luck Connie would have if she did try.

"Why don't you let me speak to her?"

Connie raised her eyebrows at Rita's suggestion.

"Well, she's not going to listen to you..."

Rita murmured.

"But I'm her mother!"

Connie almost laughed and Rita reached out to her, just touching her arm.

"Exactly."

She paused, she could see Connie giving in, and with a defeated clap of her hands against her thighs she nodded.

"Good luck."

She said simply, and she turned without another word and made her way back into the kitchen, her head bowed.

Rita drew in a breath, steadying herself. She knew this wasn't going to be easy, and she wished she didn't have to do it, but for Connie, she would do anything, especially today. So, ignoring her nerves she climbed the stairs to the first floor where Grace's bedroom was.

She hesitated, deliberating between knocking and pushing the door. She noted how it wasn't properly closed, having bounced against the frame as Grace had slammed it.

She cleared her throat to forewarn the little girl of her presence before pushing it open ever so slightly, so that she could peer into the room.

"Grace?"

The little girl was lying face down on her bed, her hair splayed across the pillow like the long dark legs of a spider.

"Can I come in?"

Grace ignored her, so with careful footsteps she entered the room and closed the door softly behind herself.

She looked about the room, at the framed photos on the wall of Grace and Connie, of her friends, and her father...

She took another step towards the bed and lowered herself down onto it so that she was sitting by Grace's feet.

"Do you want to talk?"

She asked quietly, and from where she lay Grace shook her head, her face still pressed firmly into the pillow.

Rita ran a finger over a pluck in the dark purple duvet cover.

"You know your mum was really worried about telling you."

Grace remained silent, her back rising up and down slowly, as though she were asleep.

"She thought that telling you that we were just friends would be easier in the beginning. You could get to know me before..."

"I don't want to get to know you!"

Grace shouted into her pillow, her voice muffled and she balled her fists against her ears.

Rita sucked in a breath, she wanted so badly to make things right.

"Ok..."

She paused and tugged at the corners of the pluck, pulling the thread neatly back into place.

"Well, you know what? That's absolutely fine. "

She noticed a pause in the rise and fall of Grace's back.

"When I was little, my parents split up, and I was fine, it was much nicer not having the arguments. My brother and sister and I finally had the attention that we'd always wanted...but when they met other people it was awful, they'd forget to pick us up from school, or cancel plans we'd made, and I felt like they didn't want us around any more – like they had better things to do..."

She paused again, Grace's hands had relaxed and she was listening, though her face was still buried.

"But I'm not going to let that happen to you. I never want to make you feel like that."

She crossed her legs, the wooden bed frame creaking beneath her movements.

"All I want to do right now is to talk to you. Is that OK?"

Ever so slowly Grace moved. She rolled over and crawled up to the head of her bed, leaning against the headboard and pulling her knees up to her chest. She looked directly at Rita, her face flushed from being pressed into the pillow, her eyes bloodshot and her lips drawn into a tight white line. She looked so like her mother that, for a moment Rita wanted to reach out for her and draw her in close – to stroke her dark hair-

"I want you to know that I really like your Mum."

She said quietly. Grace pushed her hair from her face with slow movements, and for a moment Rita thought she might not respond at all.

"My mummy says you only kiss people like that when you love them."

She said eventually, and Rita exhaled, relieved that she had finally spoken.

"Well, I think that people kiss each other when they care a lot about one another, and they want to show the other person that... They want to feel close to them. But I do love your Mum...very much."

"But you're a girl."

Grace said pointedly, and Rita gritted her teeth. Now came the difficult bit.

"I am. But that's OK. If two people love each other, then that's what's important. It doesn't matter if that love is between a man and a woman, two women, or two men. All that matters is that they're happy...don't you think?"

"But it's weird..."

Grace let the words hang in the air between them, her nose wrinkled up, her eyes lowered.

"Why do you think its weird?"

She asked, and Grace shrugged, glancing down to her knees.

"It means my mum is a lesbian."

She said quietly, and Rita couldn't help but wonder if she even really knew what the word meant.

"Not necessarily. It just means that your mum has found someone she wants to spend time with-"

"And kiss."

Grace interjected.

"And kiss..."

Rita repeated, meeting Grace's eyes.

"Are you going to get married?"

Grace asked suddenly, the thought occurring to her as quickly as the words had left her lips.

Rita smiled and shook her head.

"I don't think we've been together long enough to begin thinking about that."

"How long have you been together?"

Grace asked, and Rita had the overwhelming sense that this child was trying to trick her into admitting something. She was after all, Connie's flesh and blood, and she knew full well how manipulative both females could be.

"Not long."

She said simply.

"Not long enough to be thinking about getting married any time soon."

She added. Grace nodded slowly, thinking something over, though her eyes gave nothing away.

"It's going to be OK, Grace...I promise you that."

She slipped her hand across the duvet closer to Grace, but the little girl refused to respond. Instead she hugged herself tighter and rested her chin on her knees, relishing in the fact that she could make Rita feel nervous just by looking at her.

-.- More soon! :) Let me know what you think, as always, and if there is anything you'd like me to include.

LittleBooLost, you are absolutely write to think that, Grace is far more upset because Connie is in a relationship ,and therefore she thinks she will have even less time for her, rather than being particularly worried about the fact that Rita is a woman – for now anyway...there's a chance that may be about to change due to the interference of somebody else ;) xxx

Also, how lovely did Connie look last night with her hair all over the place whilst she was doing the chest compressions on Charlie?! Most distracting!