Ask no questions, hear no lies.

[kate]

DISCLAIMER: Characters, places are intellectual property of Neighbours.
SUMMARY: Communication is always important in a relationship. That is, unless you're 17, feckless and unwittingly involved in the most explosive love quadrangle of the century.
SET-UP: I wrote the first bit during the Bridget/Ringo CRISIS last year so that's why those couples are together at the start. Don't worry though, this fic was always 100% about evilly splitting them up... so no-one get scared about me having gone to the dark side...
Also, the oddball swearing bits is a result of filters on other sites. You might get it if you read those bits.

Also there's a new chapter that I added yesterday if you've already got that far, I know it is hard work reading this fic, I do love a waffle.

Chapter 1- Up the Garden Path

It was 12.30. Ringo perched on the edge of his bed, not bothering to take off his starchy black trousers, the cuffs of his white shirt suddenly feeling tight. His head buzzed from the vodka they had knocked back not half an hour ago. He smiled to himself kind of idiotically but he didn't really care. It was late but he had no plans to go to bed.

Their parting words rang vaguely in his head.

Laughing stupidly and trailing discarded high heels and jackets over their shoulders they had blazed a trail up the cul de sac, disregarding pavements for the centre of the road.

She had looked lovely at the start of the evening, her curly hair partly pinned back to show off her graceful neck, her slender figure for once on show in a light silver dress- but now, her hair a little messier, her face mischievous and relaxed into its usual smile, she was something else.

"I don't care what you say about formals, tonight has been just, like incredible man," said Ringo, probably a little too enthusiastically and a little too loudly for the middle of the night on a quiet street.

Bridget seemed to find that pretty funny. He probably should have felt stupid, but instead he laughed too.

They stumbled up towards the steps of Bridget's house, resting at the bottom aimlessly. They laughed at absolutely nothing some more as Ringo reached into his pocket for the little glass bottle that was wedged inside and squarely dropped it onto the steps shattering everywhere.

"Oh whoops" he said grimacing. "Never mind eh?"

Ringo put a hand on her shoulder to steady himself and to kick some of the glass out of the way, before suddenly moving his head in to kiss her clumsily on the ear. Bridget looked at him laughingly, moving away slightly.

"All right you great lightweight, I should probably go in, I can see my dad lurking" said Bridget soberly.

Ringo cocked his head disappointedly.

"Does this mean we're saying goodbye now? But I'm not tired," he groaned probably a little over-dramatically.

Bridget considered him intently for a second, half-smiling, half doubtful. Ringo wasn't sure but he thought he might be being appraised. She looked like she was about to say something when, as she had predicted, the door to her house opened and out peered her father.

"Uh, Didge is that you? Uh I'll just leave the door ajar," called Steve, his tone a funny mixture of anxiety at his daughter being out so late and the restraint of a 40 year old overgrown teenager who didn't want to give away his age by cramping his daughter's style.

Bridget ignored him and smiled some more at Ringo.

She moved towards him placing a kiss on his right cheek.

"Keep your phone on and your window open," she muttered into his ear, before flying up the steps.

And that was why he was sat there now, ten minutes later, in his own room, willing himself to sober up a little. He thought he knew where this evening may be heading and if he was right then he really wanted to have the mental capacity to remember it tomorrow.

Thank God Susan had finally got round to clearing the spare room of Libby's stuff so that the boys didn't have to share anymore. Ringo loved Zeke (in a, you know, manly kind of way of course) but he wasn't sure he wanted to be sharing this particular moment with him.

He got up and opened the window as Bridget had said. The cool night air woke him a little. He thought a bit. If he switched off the main light and turned on his lava-lamp would that make it too obvious what he thought was going to happen and thus potentially make things ten times more embarrassing if he got it wrong and she laughed at him?

He considered for a while and finally decided to go for it: the overhead light was making his eyes hurt a little anyway- although, again, he wasn't sure if that wasn't just the alcohol.

Ten minutes passed. He sat against his headboard and tried to keep awake, but it was proving difficult. A little lie down will do no harm, he reasoned to himself. He closed his eyes and thought about the evening.

Bridget of course had spent the past weeks denying that she would come to the ball and when Bridget said something she had a tendency to mean it.

He hadn't taken it personally. Although things hadn't started off perfectly it had been plain sailing ever since then. Better than that, in fact, he thought with a smile. The past weeks had been amazing. There had been those that had said that this was a rebound thing- various people had dropped him manifold 'cryptic' hints about being careful- but she had really given him no reason to think that that he needed to be.

Ringo could honestly say that this was one of the easiest-going relationships he had ever been involved in. Bridget was happy, open and funny, and the two of them spent as much time making each other roll around on the floor laughing as they did kissing.

And then when it did come to that kind of thing she was seductive and alluring to him in a way that he probably would have had no idea of if someone had suggested it two months ago. He didn't really care to admit it, not least to Bridget, but this thing had been one of the better ideas he had had in quite a long time.

The one thing that could be said however was that Bridget did seem a little more fragile recently. It wasn't that her behaviour had changed drastically; she was just a little quieter.

Ringo didn't really know exactly what it was to do with- you could never really tell with Bridget- but he could kind of guess and he was willing to bet that her reasons for not wanting to go to the formal were not entirely unconnected.

Ringo turned onto his side so that he was turned towards the window. Where was she? He was beginning to feel slightly nervous. What if he'd misread what she'd said, and he was lying here like a dingus waiting for her to burst in the window?

He played with his cuff. What was he worried about? It was ridiculous but he sometimes couldn't help but feel a little bit insecure about his relationship with Bridget.

He wasn't stupid. He was well aware that it was a little implausible for two people who had been as obsessed with each other as Declan and Bridget had been such a short time ago to have seemingly gotten over it as quickly as they had done these past weeks.

He didn't really want to think about what had come before, but then, largely, he wasn't given cause to. Bridget didn't make a big song and dance about this kind of stuff, and Declan was keeping his head down fairly admirably, so Ringo had had nothing thus far to complain about in that regard.

That isn't to say though that he wasn't kind of relieved when she had announced, precisely two hours before the actual event that she did want to go to the formal after all.

He didn't want to sound insecure but he had kind of started to build up the fact that she hadn't wanted to go into an indication that she was not in fact over the Declan stuff. He knew that for all her bravado she was kind of scared to face her ex-whatever-he-was in that kind of environment.

Not that Bridget and Declan didn't see each other every day, but Ringo knew full well the potential of this kind of occasion in terms of bringing to head things that had been unspoken- the carefully picked out outfits, the mood lighting, the heightened interest of everyone in the room of each others' love lives.

When Bridget told Ringo that she would go, he felt like that was a step in the right direction; that she was able to stand in front of all those people and not give a toss what anyone thought about it all anymore, because she was with him now and that was all that mattered.

To top it all, that Declan had been grounded and not able to attend had been a little bit of a God-send too.

And of course, when Bridget decided to do something, she did it in style. Ringo smiled to himself sleepily. She had been genuinely devastating that night, in spirits and in looks. Immaculate make-up highlighted her unusual, handsome bone structure. And what was more it wasn't a change that seemed unnatural or forced or as though she had been made to wear something that she probably otherwise wouldn't have on any other occasion.

He yawned and turned onto his back willing himself to stay awake but it just wasn't happening. His heavy eyes gave in to sleep and his normal breathing gave way to snoring of a volume that can be only achieved after having had too much to drink.

+++

Bridget stood barefoot by the window panicking slightly as she winced into the semi-darkness of Ringo's room. She could not for the life of her remember what she had done with her shoes. She wasn't necessarily sure that she'd brought any.

She glanced again at the alarm clock at the side of Ringo's bed. Half past 7. She swore to herself silently. She had known that this was going to happen. She had told herself that she would be home before it got light, but it had been so cosy next to the admittedly oblivious, fully tuxedoed Ringo.

She had eventually summoned the will power to get up. However, at this rate she had precisely thirty minutes before her mother and father went for their Saturday morning car boot sale and thus only 20 before her mother burst into her empty room, chirpily suggesting that she join them (despite the fact that, after a good few years of persistent asking, Bridget had not once taken up this attractive offer).

If Miranda was indeed worth her salt as detective of all illicit activities related to her children, she would very soon discover a balled-up pile of laundry under the Winnie-the-Pooh bedspread in lieu of a sixteen year old daughter.

Arse was what it was.

She sighed grudgingly. She was just going to have to go without the nobbing stilettos, not that she was overly fond of them but lack of footwear was one more thing to incriminate her if she got caught.

Just then Ringo stirred and lifted his head groggily. He peered out towards her squinting into the sunlight.

"Didge?" he croaked.

Bridget looked over.

"Hey," she murmured softly, smiling, and he returned it, even though it looked like it pained his aching head.

"Where are you going?" he grunted looking confused.

"Home," she replied quietly but firmly.

Ringo looked around blearily. "What happened, I can't remember?" he asked.

"Well if you can't remember, I'm not going to tell you," she smiled cryptically, teasing him. "But I will say that it involved a very unsexy mix of your snoring and my scratching because of the fabric on this stupid dress." He looked at her uncomprehendingly. She rolled her eyes.

"Don't worry about it. Just go back to sleep," she ordered, and hitched her black coat and last night's dress up so that she could climb out of the window.

Ringo looked like he was about to say something, but then seemed to change his mind and fell back into his pillow. Bridget smiled to herself and backed over the windowsill, thinking all the while of her strategy for getting across the street undetected. Just go quickly and keep your head down, she told herself.

She padded onto the flowerbed outside Ringo's window and eyes firmly fixed to the tarmac, marched purposefully into the street, clutching her long, woolly black coat about her.

She had just made it all the way across the other side, her feet burning from the hot tarmac. She got to the bottom of her steps and clung behind a tree for a second while she figured out the plan of action.

Then, all of a sudden a pair of hands was on her sides, and she nearly screamed. Turning around she was relieved to see that it was neither her father or Ned or any other male member of her family: that wasn't to say, however, that she was necessarily happy with what she did see in front of her.

"Declan!" she hissed, and she could see he was trying not to laugh. "That wasn't funny! Just get lost, I'm busy."

"Good morning to you too," smiled Declan out of the side of his mouth, in a way that Bridget would have found unnervingly appealing if she weren't thoroughly over him and thus immune to such things. "Big night?"

He looked her up and down quietly, taking in, no doubt, the unlikely attire and lack of footwear.

"You look..." he began.

"Like rubbish?" snapped Bridget.

Declan looked slightly hurt and Bridget felt bad.

"I wasn't going to say that," he said quietly, and held her gaze for a little too long. "You look nice," he said, and she didn't quite know how he did it but he somehow made that rather mediocre word sound not so mediocre. Slimey git.

"I'm sorry Dec," Bridget sighed. She didn't really have time for this unfortunately. She looked worriedly up at her house, shifting from foot to foot to avoid discomfort. "I'm just kind of in the middle of a delicate operation right now, so..."

"Get lost?" Declan grinned, not looking the slightest bit offended by such a suggestion.

"That's the one. I see we're reading from the same songbook as usual. Well, see you around," Bridget nodded distractedly, launching off from behind the tree.

"Bridget, wait!" called out Declan suddenly.

"What now?!" hissed Bridget spinning on her heel. "And keep your voice down or you'll blow the whole thing!"

"Oh sorry," said Declan and he looked it. "It's just that there's a load of glass there and you'll hurt your feet..."

Bridget looked down at the ground again. He was right. Damn.

Unfortunately, she didn't see any way around it. There was no other way up to the house. She went on tiptoes and bravely tried to circumnavigate it while Declan looked on wincing, ready for the inevitable.

"Owooh!" hollered Bridget, and Declan headed to her side in good grace, considering she had just been bitching at him.

"Are you all right?" He said worriedly as, despite hopping wildly in pain, she gestured to him to lower his voice.

Declan looked up at the steps then down at Bridget's bare feet. "Well there's only one thing for it," he declared starting to grin.

"And what would that be?" Bridget sighed raising her eyes to heaven waiting for the joke.

"Put your arms round my neck" he said.

"What?" Bridget groaned, still in pain and not necessarily in the mood to wait out the punch line for one of Declan's witticisms. Why did he always have to catch her off guard when he said things like that? She swore that must be his strategy with women. "Is this really the moment Declan?"

"Harhar," he smiled, sarcastic but affectionately so. "Do you want to get back to your room in one piece or not, smart-arse?"

Bridget looked at him strangely, not wanting to seem stupid but genuinely not sure why putting her arms around his neck would help her get home.

"What?" started Bridget, and then it dawned on her. "Oh..." she began starting to shake her head.

But it was too late. Before she knew it he was coming towards her and he had her scooped up in his arms within half a second.

"Put me down!" Bridget started to yell, but Declan just mockingly gestured for her to be quiet as she had done herself just before.

Quickly he whisked her past the door and around the side to where Bridget's bedroom window was. She wondered vaguely how he knew which one to go for but then decided not to pursue that train of thought. He deposited her with a flourish onto the windowsill and took a seat there himself.

"There you go," said Declan rather unnecessarily and Bridget found herself smiling at him despite a serious urge to tell him off for being a presumptuous knob.

Bridget wasn't quite sure what happened but suddenly the situation became tense.

"Well cheers then I guess."

"No, well... I mean don't worry about it," stuttered Declan. For a moment they were quiet.

Then all of a sudden he seemed to notice something. "You're foot's bleeding quite badly there Didge," he said, frowning down at her feet.

"Oh yeah," she muttered, and drew her foot up to inspect it. "Don't look at me like that Declan," she said feeling his eyes boring into her. "It's just a little glass."

"Don't be a hard man Parker, just get it seen to..." started Declan and he smiled."And don't try and crack that joke about taking it to Steve because he cured you of kennel cough that time... 'cos I've already heard it, and to tell you the truth it was pretty lame the first time."

"Besides," he started quickly and looked away "...he might start asking questions."

"Like what..?" said Bridget absent-mindedly, for a second forgetting why she was there. "Oh right," caught on Bridget, and it was her turn to look studiedly away from Declan. "I guess it might be a bit erm, suspicious..."

"Yep," agreed Declan, he himself seeming to be reminded of the circumstances under which he had discovered Bridget dashing semi-clad across the neighbourhood at a suspicious hour of the morning, and not feeling overly delighted by the conclusions that that fact brought to mind about what she'd been doing before then.

Bridget looked to the ground hoping to change the subject. She fixed her eyes somewhere around his knees.

"So let's talk about you for a second- is there a particular reason why you're up and about fresh as a daisy at this hour on a Saturday the night after the formal?"

"Oh," he said, and for some reason suddenly looked embarrassed. "I'm erm, going to a book fair in West Warratah." He looked down. "With, erm, Rachel."

Bridget felt her lip twitch with amusement, not knowing what to say. She decided to be charitable. "That sounds... fun."

Declan went a little red. "You can say what you're thinking, Didge. It sounds boring."

Bridget breathed a laugh lightly through her nose and shut her eyes smiling knowingly.

"See, you're acting all like you don't want to go to the book fair and yet here you are at whatever ungodly hour it is ready to go, when any sane individual would be in bed... so on some level you must have your reasons."

Declan looked at her for a long time curiously before smiling and looking at the ground.

"I guess."

Bridget brought her knees up to her chest and gazed forward to the same spot ahead of them.

"She's good for you, you know" stated Bridget quietly.

Declan turned his head back and watched her.

"Why do you say that?"

Bridget made a face and scratched her head uncomfortably. She really hadn't meant to get into this.

"I don't know, Declan" she said shrugging, "why does anyone say anything?"

"Insightful, Didge." He said rolling his eyes,"Now, tell me what you meant."

"Well," she sighed. "You and her, you're like... it just seems like..."

"What?"

"Well you're just... I don't know" Bridget began, smiling genuinely but weakly. "You're just really well suited. Things just seem to go, smoothly with you and her."

Declan ogled her. He knew he wasn't supposed to be bothered about these things anymore but he had a feeling he knew what she was getting at and he didn't like it. He knew it shouldn't affect him anymore, but it hurt that she could so nonchalantly try and draw him into a conversation about his love life, the love life that she didn't feature in anymore, as if what they had so very fleetingly had just didn't mean anything to her anymore.

"And what..." he prompted, "you and me weren't well suited?"

Bridget laughed softly and looked at him as if he was asking to be told what three plus three was.

"Declan... you and me would have been a disaster. I think of 'you and me' and I think car accidents, kidnappings and roof collapses."

"Err, what?!" Declan looked genuinely floored.

Bridget kicked her legs down again suddenly.

"Listen forget I said anything. I've got to get back in, I don't know why I'm still hanging around out here," she mumbled, swinging her legs into her room through the open window. "I'd get going if I were you, too, my dad probably won't ask questions if he sees you here."

Declan stood dumbly, still thinking about what she said. "OK," he muttered after a good ten seconds. "Hey do you want to, you know, do something a bit later?"

Bridget knitted her eyebrows. "Like what exactly?"

"Well, like, I don't know, we could just play guitar and stuff and you could make me sandwiches," he started and then seemed to revert to a mumble, struggling a little with his words. "Or we could, you know, just chat..."

Bridget looked unconvinced. "About what?"

Declan sighed, exasperated. The words blood and stone came to mind.

"I don't know, Didge. I mean, its been ages since we spent time with just us-" he caught sight of her amused expression. "Or we could, you know, not, if that makes you happier," he stated defensively, reddening slightly.

Bridget leaned on the windowsill and rolled her eyes.

"Come here," she said firmly and she took him by the cheek and kissed him.

"That's for helping me out. You're a mate," she said seriously. "Now sod off to that antiques fair or whatever it was. I've got to get out of this dress, and I could do it with you stood there..." she said looking at him teasingly, "but I'm not going to."

And with that she stepped back from the sill and brought the window down firmly, drawing the curtain smartly.

[kate]

Chapter Two- Fighting Talk.

+++++++++++++

Bzzzzzzzzzzz. Bzzz.

Bridget's mobile phone shook the table. Looking down distractedly, she read the screen: "Ringo incoming". She checked to see if anyone else had noticed, layed her sandwich down in the plastic tupperware box, brushed the crumbs off her hands and pressed 'reject call', before picking up her sandwich again.

"That's a bit rude, " stated Donna lightly.

"What do you want from me?" grumbled Bridget, mid-bite. " I'm starving. I just want to eat my lunch." The phone buzzed again and Bridget repeated the 'reject' action, this time very pointedly.

"...And they say romance is dead," muttered Rachel, sagely, not looking up from her book.

They were sat at one of the outdoor picnic tables at school. It was breaktime and, having all had a particularly gruelling morning of pre-exam study, they were all slightly irritable.

"I don't understand," piped in Alejandra, Rachel's Peruvian language exchange student from several places along.

"It's all right Ally," sighed Rachel patiently, even though she wasn't sure whether it was language issues or Bridget's mysterious "treat 'em mean" way with men that was mystifying the fledgling English learner. "None of us do."

Taylah looked penetratingly at Bridget from across the wooden table.

"I think I get it," started Taylah cryptically. She liked to think she was an expert on all things romantic.

Rachel sighed wearily, clearly wanting to get on with reading her book. "Go on then. What?" she rattled sarcastically. "Put us out of our misery!"

"Well..." continued Taylah dramatically. "Bridget's playing hard to get isn't she?"

Rachel snorted sardonically. "No she's not," she said witheringly. "Maybe- just maybe- she's just not so hung up around her current beau that she has to play silly games to reel him in all the time. Difficult concept to understand, huh?" she shot.

The otherwise humid air of the hot summer day froze slightly.

The two girls had what was commonly termed 'issues'. This stemmed from the fact that Taylah and Rachel's brother, Zeke, had been a bit rocky over the past few months. This hadn't been particularly Taylah's fault- every teenage relationship had its ups and downs- but there was no telling Rachel this. The two girls were still friends in a funny sort of way, but the tension most definitely was there, no matter how unduly. This tension was especially noticable at the moment as the couple were more 'off' than 'on', not helped by the fact that Rachel had convinced herself that her new protegé Alejandra was to be the new love of her brother's life at all costs- whether any of the parties involved in the relationship agreed to this or not.

Bridget took another big bite of her sandwich, gulped heavily and stared out at the sports teams doing laps of the yard. "Maybe, just maybe, I really was just hungry and didn't feel like speaking to him because my phone battery's about to go," she muttered grumpily, prising what remained of the two slices of bread apart and inserting a layer of ready salted crisps. She looked around and saw four faces looking at her in varying degrees of non-comprehension- although, only half participating in this exchange up to this point, she wasn't sure whether it was her lunch preparation or lovelife strategy that was baffling them. "Don't worry about it, it's too advanced for you guys to get your head around," she mumbled.

Rachel snickered and continued reading, Taylah looked confused as to the meaning of it all and Donna... well Donna seemed to be doing some kind of unconventional knitting and thus seemed rather unaffected by any of it. They sat in silence in the sunshine for a while.

"I was thinking Bridget," mused Donna, shuffling the multi-coloured oblong along the needle. "If you're not that bothered about Ringo, I can take him off your hands for you if you like. Save you the awkwardness of a big breakup and that."

It was testament to Donna's personality that this statement didn't evoke a great deal of shock but it was fair to say no-one really knew what to say to that.

"Erm...ok," said Taylah, filing her nails. No-one spoke. Donna looked around at them sullenly.

"What?" she demanded evenly, shrugging. "God you guys are so uptight. Bridget knows I'm not planning on trying to steal him away or anything! In some cultures it would be seen as a compliment to our friendship that we can pass boyfriends among ourselves without begrudging it!"

Bridget nearly choked on her crisps laughing and Taylah wore her trademark confused frown.

Rachel closed her eyes, looking pained, and sighed. "Yes, well Donna, progressive though that that is, I think you'll find that in our culture" she began, "it's considered good manners to wait until after someone's dumped their boyfriend before coming out with something like that. Funny like that isn't it western society?"

"3 months after dumping, Cosmopolitan says" interjected Taylah, excited to be finally engaged in a topic she was well versed in. A perplexed expression crossed her features. "Although, most other publications would probably say never, it has to be said, Donna. Hmm."

Rachel rolled her eyes and turned the page of her book with an exaggerated gesture. "You do put your intelligence to such good use Taylah," she said, sighing for possibly the fifteenth time that lunchtime. She ignored Taylah's look of outrage and continued. "Although I have to say I do agree. What is it with you and Bridget's cast-offs anyway, Donna?"

Bridget took a sip of her drink, tensely. "Rachel, don't start," she frowned.

Alejandra, who everyone had kind of forgotten was there again up until that point pushed her coke-bottle glasses up her nose and looked confused. "Cast-off?"

Rachel smiled serenely, shutting her own book and taking the sizeable dictionary that Alejandra carted around with her into her own hands. She licked her fingers and found the relevant entry, pushing it back to her charge.

Donna arranged her knitting and sat up straight. "If you're talking about Josh, I think you'll find that I went about that perfectly reasonably. I was quite open about it. I made sure to ask first, as is custom. " said Donna with dignity. "Bridget herself said, and I quote, 'you're welcome to him'. Didn't you Bridget?"

"Yeah, I s'pose I did," sighed Bridget, only half-listening and shining her apple on her jersey. Well, at the time she possibly hadn't expected Donna to avail herself of the opportunity the day after he'd dumped her, but it hadn't been Josh or Donna who'd broken her heart at the time. Little that she wanted to dredge the whole painful thing up now, but that had been the week that two other people important to her had started going out: Rachel and Declan. Two months ago to the day to be exact, and exactly two months to the day that she'd been holding her tongue, pretending it wasn't tearing her up inside to see the two of them. She wasn't angry about it, per se- she'd messed him around enough, she hardly could have expected him to wait forever. But she was vaguely embarassed that she might give herself away for having ever thought he'd go for her when he was going out with her gorgeous best friend. Fear of being murdered by a ferocious, tightly-wound, exam-period Rachel Kinski also came into it.

There was a frosty silence. Rachel raised her eyebrows. "Well, I'm just concerned about the principle of it Donna. Bridget might be too polite to say but I'm not fooled. I've seen her moping- I'm willing to bet she's even still a little bit into that Josh, and now she's regretting going for Ringo instead. "

Bridget played with her empty crisp wrapper nervously- right idea, wrong love object, she thought guiltily. "Rachel- it's fine. I really, truly, 100% don't care anymore. Just everyone shut up."

Bridget was grateful that at this point conversation took a minute break while what seemed like the entire sporting section of the student body seemed to stampede past their table.

Taylah sighed contentedly watching the passing lycra. "I'm so glad I wasn't picked for the team. All that sweating!"

Rachel snorted. "Yeah. You're more the maths club crowd aren't you Taylah?"

Everyone winced.

"Rachel!" Bridget groaned. "PMT much?"

"No kidding," said Donna, " That wasn't even funny and bitchy... it was just out and out bitchy!"

Taylah narrowed her eyes. "It's all right girls. She know I have difficulties with maths, but fine." A malicious gleam came into her eye. "So anyway, what were we talking about before? Oh yes, that's it- Bridget's cast-offs. "

Alejandra held her dictionary up and coughed as though waiting for this opportunity.

"A knitting term describing the method of ending a stitch."

"That accent gets better and better Allie!" said Donna kindly. "But I think what you're looking for is that one..." she took her finger helpfully and moved it down the page to the right entry.

"Oh yes that's right. Ach-hem. "Cast-off: one or something that has been discarded and then salvaged"," read Alejandra looking pleased with her input into the conversation.

"That's really good Anita" Taylah purred."And of course, that's quite fitting, Kinski, wouldn't you say? " muttered Taylah, clearly still smarting from the earlier slight.

"Taylah! " warned Bridget and Donna.

Rachel slammed her book a little too violently and narrowed her eyes. "And what do you mean by that?"

Bridget inhaled deeply. She had a nasty feeling where this one was going. She racked her brains for a change of subject. "So, errh, did you all see the new, hmm, vending machine they're installing in the main corridor?" she enquired, trying to sound chirpy and convincing no-one. " It looks like they're going to have those new caramel bar things they advertised on telly, should be wicked!"

Rachel and Taylah continued to eyeball each other as though Bridget hadn't said anything at all. Taylah raised her eyebrows and sipped her water-bottle elegantly, gesturing to 100 yards away to where Declan was stretching against a railing. Taylah cocked her head at her triumphantly with a look that said 'need I say more'.

The cat had been let out of the basket. Rachel made a sudden upwards lunging movement, but Bridget clutched Rachel's arm to make her sit down again.

"Whoa! What the hell?" cried Bridget incredulously. "What's gotten into everyone today? We don't want a repeat of last time's hostilities do we?"(Across the table Taylah smoothed a stain on her dress which looked suspiciously like it had been splashed with strawberry milkshake at an earlier point.) "Rachel put the petit filou down." She tilted her head eye either way as would a referee presiding over a football squabble. "Right. I usually wouldn't do this, but desperate times and all that. Do you want to do the honours, Donna?"

Donna looked delighted and held up her watch.

Rachel looked around embarassedly. "Do we have to? We're in public," she hissed.

"Yes, well you should have thought about that before you escalated. OK, moment of zen, girls, moment of zen. You know what to do. Everyone, lotus position; close your eyes- and 'Ohmmm'".

There was silence.

Alejandro looked afraid. "I don't understand."

Bridget explained: "It's a book Donna's been reading about meditation in day-to-day relationships or something. I think it's quite a good idea- I've been getting sick of all this bickering lately. I feel like we're all involved in one giant, communal abusive marriage..."

Rachel leaned forward in a worried sounding whisper. "Seriously Donna, when has this ever worked-"

"-Hup!" Donna made a zipping gesture across her mouth.

Taylah rolled her eyes. "Ok, but wasn't it you who-

"-Huup!" snapped Donna seriously, a slightly terrifying look suddenly on her usually easygoing face. "I said 'Ohhmmm.'" The other girls looked at each other uncomfortably. They knew not to cross Donna on matters spiritual. One by one they joined in weakly with the low drone.

Onlookers started to giggle in amusement, but Donna simply frowned. "Keep it up!"

"Ohmmmmm" continued the girls, faces reddening.

"Good," she barked.

"Ohmmmm."

"And ten, nine, eight... gradually draw it to a close."

"And three two one... back in the room"

Rachel's eyes darted opened. "Hold on! That's not yoga, that's from that programme! That one where they pretend to hypnotise bereaved pet owners-"

Donna gave her a silencing glare.

Once again, they were saved by the drowning noise of several hundred runners passing their table.

One of the runners from the blue and yellow homogenous mass broke away on seeing the girls and ran back to them.

"Ladies!" Declan grinned at them breathlessly. He was greeted with stoney silence as three out of four of the girls continued to glower following the tense words that had just been exchanged. "Weirdos." He padded towards his girlfriend who had returned to her book as a defence mechanism and planted a sweaty kiss on her cheek. "Boy disputes eh? Say no more girls." Rachel looked irritated.

Declan smiled and caught Bridget's eye from across the table where she was clearly trying hard not to burst into laughter, out of solidarity with her girlfriends.

He placed his hands on his thighs and looked at her questioningly ."And what are you doing sat there, anyway, Miss Slacker?" He grinned breathlessly, cocking his head at her. "Shouldn't you be out there with the rest of us training?"

Bridget returned his concerned smile, but shook her head somewhat sadly. She patted her leg meaningfully. Declan seemed to understand instantly and nodded sympathetically.

"Is the appointment today?" He enquired, seriously.

Bridget nodded again.

"Don't worry about it too much, hey? Those doctors are always wrong, anyway. Come and see me, I'll give you a diagnosis. I believe in the power of mind over matter."

Bridget rolled her eyes but returned his parting wave as he headed back off running.

"See you, girls! Ring you later, Rachel. And break a leg, Didge!"

"Not if I don't break yours first when I'm back on the footy pitch!" she called.

Declan did a mock-horror face and pretended to shiver. "Ooh I'm scared!" he yelled, now quite a way away.

Bridget narrowed her eyes and pretended to scratch her forehead with her index finger stuck in a curiously upwards gesture.

She turned back to the table smiling slightly and looking down at what was left of her lunch, but when she looked back up at her friends she found all eyes beadily on her.

"And what was that charming little exchange all about?" questioned Rachel with barely concealed ire. "Why aren't you running with them?"

Bridget looked down uncomfortably. "Don't worry about it, it's nothing."

"Well, clearly Declan's allowed to worry about it!" Rachel squeaked, obviously trying to keep her voice under control. "Let us in on the big secret!"

"Ooh!" Taylah squealed with malicious glee."Maybe she's pregnant and Declan's the father!"

There was an excited squeak from the far end of the table. "Aaah! cried Alejandra seemingly happy to have again understood something. "Bridgeh and Rayhhell's boy has babies?"

"Well, sadly, no, Al. Taylah was joking," Donna explained to their new friend, kindly. "But, that would be quite fun if they did, actually, wouldn't it? Would spice things up around here a bit, that's for sure!"

"Yeah you two would have a cute baby!" agreed a heavily fake-tanned girl at the next table, sticking her head across, momentarily and gesturing over at Didge. "With big curly hair and interesting eyebrows!" Donna discreetly tried to shoo her away as Rachel looked like she was contemplating bare-handed murder. "Oh whoops, he's going out with that other one now, isn't he?" stage-whispered the other girl. Donna nodded her head discreetly and winked.

Rachel looked distractedly at the interloper as though a particularly bothersome horsefly. "Aren't you that girl who's going out with Justin Hunter?" The girl nodded, almost a little too proudly, Bridget thought, all things considered. "Well, then, you might want to stop looking so smug because- and I hope you don't mind me pointing out- YOUR babies will be GINGER! And orange! So MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS!" This last bit was shouted and had the effect of silencing most of the courtyard. The girl scuttled quickly back to her table where her outraged-looking friends cuddled her protectively.

Rachel turned her ire back to Bridget and looked somewhere around the point of exploding.

"That's IT!" she burst, and looked about ready to cry with redfaced rage.

"All right!" interrupted Bridget standing up. This was going too, too far. "Everyone listen up! You are all psychos! Sit back down, have a little drink of water, and listen to me. Basically what I have to say is this. One: I am not having anyone's baby. Two: I'm not interested in anyone's boyfriends, which you all knew anyway so, calm the eff down. Three: I am going to the hospital but it's nothing sordid so don't get excited. It's because, basically, I've got to go back to the physio tomorrow. They think I've been doing too much and there might be an, hmm, long term problem." Bridget looked down sadly. "They're not sure but they're talking about me not being able to play footy again."

Rachel looked ashamed at herself. "Didge... I'm really sorry."

"Me too Didge."

"Me three. And you know sticks are meant to be a big thing for the new season, so you know..."

"Be quiet Donna. That's so insensitive."

"It's okay everyone. There's no need to bring out the violins yet. But what would be really nice is if you could avoid using this as another excuse to scratch each others throats out. Could you do that for me? Thanks."

She turned on her heel and headed off, with, what was more apparent now that she'd mentioned it, a bit of the old limp in her step.

Alejandra sighed. "I think I understand now."

[kate]

Disclaimer: Lyrics from the Spinnerette's song "Ghetto Love".


Chapter Three- The International Language of Screaming


Rachel was quite a musical person but this was not pleasurable listening.


She looked determinedly forward as the car roared around the bends and tried to keep her stomach, wincing in irritation as Declan shouted along with the music :

"Hey Now, Theeeere Now, It's a game to be plaaayed out, Thieves of the heart and the heart of the mnaaah."

Declan paused his singing for a moment as he changed gear and swooped around what felt to Rachel like a hairpin corner with a loud "Whoahoooah! Hey!"

She grit her teeth. Well at least he seemed to be having a good time.

She wound down the window a little and breathed.

It wasn't like she hadn't told him that she got carsick or anything. Just like how it wasn't like she hadn't told him that she'd been a vegetarian for the past two months and that, yes, chicken and fish was included in that.

"Oh, for Christ's sake," she muttered.

If Declan could hear her however, he was doing a very good job of pretending not to.

"Oh IIII'm just a girl out looooooking for luuuuuuuuuuuuuurve!" he warbled, squeezing his eyes shut on the high notes.

Rachel closed her eyes too, but for her it was less a profound communing with the music, and more that she hoped that if she did that she'd open them and the whole thing would be over. "Is it me or is all your music shouty pmt girl music?" she half-shouted.

Declan clicked on the indicator and squinted out at the road. "And what's wrong with that exactly..?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Nothing," she muttered darkly "…if you're a girl. And you shout a lot. And you have pmt."

"And you'd know nothing about that would you-OWWWAH!" Declan grasped his head as Rachel thwapped him viciously with her rolled-up broadsheet. "Are you completely out of your mind woman? Do you want me to crash us into a pole or something?"

Rachel stopped whacking him and horror clouded her features, turning to face out the windscreen again, her mouth gaping open. "He used that word," she whispered to herself, fuming. "I don't believe it! I specifically told him not to use that word!"

"What word?" he asked, pulling an amused face. "Crazy woman," he added at a volume he hoped she wouldn't hear.

"Right! Stop the car!" Rachel ordered suddenly, almost making him step on the brakes in surprise.

"What? Why?" he yelped banging the dashboard.

"Do I need to tell you?" Rachel took the silence and dumbfounded expression to mean yes. "OK, I will spell it out for you," she bit. "So what very thing were we talking about just yesterday..?"

"Hmm… the tennis?" joked Declan even though he was preetty sure she wasn't in the mood.

"NO!"

"Rugby?"

"That's not FUNNY!" she shouted.

Declan sighed and winced at the shrieking. "No I suppose it isn't." He admitted. "Sorry." He scratched his head. "What were we talking about?"

Rachel exhaled noisily. "Ugh! We were talking about you using that word when you're talking to women…" She felt another wave of nausea and let a sheet of her straight brown hair fall forward. "Look, never mind Declan, never mind," she seethed, counting to ten and trying to ignore the waves of nausea the jolty driving was causing her. "Just stop the car. Really, just stop the car."

"Why though?"

"BECAUSE! Because because because!" She flapped and threw her hands over her face. "Where do I even start with you? Just… just stop the car!"

"All right then," Declan conceded, completely bewildered now and indicating then turning off into the car park of a fastfood drive in. He turned his body around and manoeuvred into a parking space. Turning the engine off, he sighed wearily and looked at her expectantly.

"OK. So what are we stopping for?" He asked puzzledly. "Did you want a burger or something?"

Rachel closed her eyes serenely and looked like she was about to be vomit.

"Oh right yeah," he murmured, feeling bad for having forgotten. "International boycott big brands week?" He attempted to lighten the mood a bit. "Come on, you know you want to… I'll shout you a meal deal..?" he teased, trying to make her laugh. "I won't tell anyone if you don't!"

Another silence. "Oh god, yeah," he said quickly, remembering the car sickness and feeling like a bit of an insensitive pillock. "Sorry?" he proffered, carefully.

"Oh my god. Oh my god." Rachel repeated. Breathe she told herself. Ohhmmm. "I'm just going to open the window here and sit for a while," she muttered trying to keep calm, more to herself than to the moron sat next to her.

Declan looked tense. He didn't really know what to say or do at this point for fear of getting further bitched at. He tapped his fingers absentmindedly on the dashboard but then stopped himself again quickly- it probably wasn't going to help the situation. He sneaked a quick glance at his watch.

"Why don't I just leave you to get off to wherever it is you'd rather have been going and I'll get the bus shall I?" she groaned sarcastically through the nausea.

Declan studied her face, completely terrified now. "OK then?" Declan started cautiously, not really trusting himself not to annoy her again. "So there's like a bus stop over there I think? I think it goes every twenty minutes..?"

Rachel gaped at him with her eyes wide. She'd been told before that the male of the species could be obtuse, but this was taking the cake. "I don't believe it!" she mused. "I just don't believe it."

"It was just a suggestion, you don't have to…" he added helplessly but she was already getting out of the car. She slammed the door behind her and he winced.

Declan sat in the car reeling from what had just been said. Why was it all so trying? He threw his head back, a million questions nagging at him painfully.

What did you do when it got like this?

Did you put yourself on the line, letting her know how you feel by putting all your feelings out in the open, doing what your heart told you even though it would probably hurt her?

Or do the gentlemanly thing, waiting two minutes until she was around the corner and then go up and get the special deal cheeseburger with extra large chips?

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Declan has anyone ever told you you're an idiot?"

Declan looked at her as if she'd asked whether the Pope was Catholic.

"Of course," he replied. "Rachel tells me pretty much every other time we go out."

"Well good then, it's best that you know," Bridget stated calmly. "And I hope she dumps you for it!" She went back to her popcorn.

Declan looked pouty. "Everyone's always so mean to me," he grumbled, shaking his head and shrunk back into his seat huffily. "But fine. Take her side. You always do."

"What do you want me to say?" she shrugged scratching her elbow. "I have to say I probably would have done the same."

Declan looked at her sideways and his irritation ebbed away. "No, you wouldn't!"

"No I guess I wouldn't," Bridget deadpanned. "…Because if it had been me, I would have punched you out, wrestled the keys off you and then driven home myself leaving you at the bus stop."

"Hohoho!" guffawed Declan sarcastically. "You are so full of it! I bet you've never 'punched anyone out' in your life!" he said to her grinning at her teasingly and biting off a trawberry lace with gusto.

A look passed over Bridget's face which he recognised with a sinking feeling as her 'never challenge me to a dare' face.


"Oh wouldn't I?" she said, catching him in the eye with a slow smile before going in for the kill.

"Owwwah!" he hollered rubbing his shoulder where she'd just hit him. "Right that's it. I've had it with you girls, you're all psychos!"

The man in the row behind tutted loudly and from somewhere on Declan's other side, Mickey piped up. "Deeeeeclan you're ruining it for everyone!"

Declan caught Bridget's eye with an 'oops!' look, and leant forward to address him.

"Oy you!" he whispered loudly. "Enough lip or you can get the bus home too!"


"He's right Dec," whispered the voice of one Ringo Brown from the other side of Mickey, a note of weary irritation in his voice. "I'm not being funny mate but just give it a rest will you, noone in this cinema cares about your love life."

Declan pulled an exaggerated "What's got your goat?" face at him, earning him a kick in the shins and a "leave him alone" from Didge.


Ringo said nothing but looked like he had a serious headache coming on. Declan actually did sympathise, he really did, and for that matter he was fully aware what had indeed got his best friend's proverbial goat. When Ringo had suggestively hinted to him and Zeke that that day's cinema outing with Bridget was not an open invite affair, he probably hadn't imagined that Bridget was a) planning on bringing along her irksome ten year old cousin b) that the film of choice would be at the whim of said pre-teen and c) that even if those impediments didn't get in the way of the romantic outing he'd envisaged, a cinema packed with screaming toddlers and a problem booking seats would mean that he was seperated from his date by no less than four seats.


It was thus that they all found themselves sitting through an afternoon showing of that much critically acclaimed film "Hotel for Dogs". If Declan didn't misanthropically find the whole thing hilarious (the situation, not the film) he would have almost felt bad for having gatecrashed the whole thing, adding insult to injury in his best friend's already fairly cruddy day. What was worse was that Declan happened to know that poor Ringo had been at work every evening this week doing the washing up at the pub to earn a bit of extra cash to treat Bridget with- even though she seemed significantly less than aware of how much trouble he was going to to please her than most blokes would put up with. Declan couldn't help smiling- it didn't half suck to be Ringo Brown at the moment.

Declan surveyed the scene, not discontentedly. He wasn't exactly sure how he himself had come to be present at the whole thing, but Bridget had invited him at the last minute and how could he have refused such an offer from a young lady when she had seemed so genuinely, for whatever reason, desperate for him to go along?

Declan hummed to himself happily. He knew he shouldn't be revelling in her quite clearly failing relationship but what could he say? He'd had to accept quite a while ago now that his love for her- and yes it had been that- was never going to be anything other than one-sided: but it didn't mean he had to help her along into his best friend's arms, and it didn't mean he couldn't be a little bit happy when she seemed to enjoy spending time with him rather than the guy she was supposed to be with. He knew that probably made him a bit of a scumbag, but hey- if you couldn't be honest with yourself why bother?


"Sorry," Declan called along the row, weakly. Ringo said nothing again and looking thoroughly exhausted mentally, went back to watching the film with a worried air about him.

Declan did the same for a second but after a few minutes he turned back to face Bridget. He couldn't resist- she had that 'mildly troubled but trying not to show it' look on her face. Particularly vulnerable, in his experience, for some winding up.

"Stop hogging the pick and mix will you!" he grinned, sticking his hand into the bag on her lap and rifling around, taking the last giant cola bottle, knowing it was her favourite and flashing it up in her face before snatching it away again between his teeth, making a show of chewing it, pretending to savour the flavours as though it was an out of body experience.

"God you're soooo annoying!" she groaned loudly, earning herself another tut from the man behind.

"You love it really. So anyway, tell me what I should do about Rachel" he demanded in a loud whisper.

"Oh I don't know," she replied exasperately, looking a bit miserable. "What do you keep asking me for?"

"Good point," he laughed and peered around to make sure Ringo couldn't hear. "Would you be insulted if I said that this might be one of the most hilariously tense dates I've ever been mysteriously asked to tag along to in a long, long time?"

"What, there's a rule that all outings between us guys have to be couples only now is there?" she said, slightly sadly. "Me and Ringo don't have to conduct ourselves like we're in some kind of sitcom idea of romance to know we like each other. And you know... we're just moving a bit more slowly than some couples do."

Declan felt like adding that it was unusual for people of non-Christian persuasion in any kind of 3 month romance to be moving quite this slowly but he was aware that might be heading further towards the danger zone of obnoxious sod than even he was able to contemplate- so he said nothing. Besides he didn't want to give her any ideas. Ringo and her could move just as slowly as they liked for all he cared: the thought made him deeply unhappy even though it had no right to. He thought it was sweet that she was so adorably green about the whole thing but it also worried him.

She sat up in her seat dignifiedly as though she knew what he was thinking and was declining comment. "Well whatever," she bit. "And noone made you come anyway..." she added disgruntledly.

"No way," he grinned sucking his soft drink loudly. "I'm glad I did, I'm having a great time!"

"All right," Bridget admitted looking a bit hurt and raising her chin. "You don't have to be so smug about it."

"Oh Bridget you know I didn't mean it…" he chided, softly, but it looked like the damage was done. He supposed she probably didn't love that she kept undermining her relationship, easy though it was, and that made him feel a bit bad. He didn't really like seeing her unhappy. Declan racked his brains for something to cheer her up but the sheer awfulness of the film was making it difficult to think. He peered over the chasm seperating Bridget and Declan from Mickey and Ringo. The poor guy looked like he'd decided that the best possible solution was to try and make use of the time for a bit of shuteye, unfortunately punctuated by Mickey periodically roaring with laughter and tossing popcorn in the air messily.

Declan sat back for a minute and tried to watch the film but there was just nothing for it. He turned to Bridget again. "I'm sorry but can't we sit out the rest in the café? I can't watch another minute of this."

Bridget looked tempted but nervous. "I don't know…" she started. "I'm supposed to be looking after Mickey. And it's not really fair on Ringo to leave him with him."

"Oh you suddenly care now do you? What were you telling Donna the other day? That you and Ringo had an understanding relationship which transcended the usual boundaries and customs of 'silly irrational romance'?"

Bridget blushed slightly. "Shut up you little earwig- that was a private conversation. But yes, now that you mention it, we do!"

"Well then," Declan surmised decisively, "in that case he'll understand that if I watch anymore of this I'll slit my wrists and that you accompanying me out is simply the charitable act of a concerned friend."

She looked like she was trying not to laugh. Very cutely so, he thought to himself. Well, he reasoned, there was no harm in him thinking it if it was true.

"NO Declan. We can't," she whispered nervously, looking back at the gruesome twosome several places along. He loved how much she was troubling over this-the cod psychologist in him liked to think that spoke volumes.

"I'll buy you more cola bottles?" he said, trying to tempt her.

Bridget tutted but her big eyes were glittering smilingly and he could tell it was a done deal. "OK then, let's go," she whispered, gathering up her coat. "But we'll be back within the hour, yeah?"

Declan grinned at her widely.

"Awesome! And yes, I'll have you back before either of them even know we're gone!"

[kate]

Chapter Four- Run!


The supermarket assistant smiled to herself as she listened.

"Well this is the aisle you're looking for," she smiled, bemusedly. "Is there anything else I can help you with?" she demanded, but the couple in front of her didn't seem to hear, wrapped up in a conversation that even after years of people watching she couldn't fathom. The girl with the brown curls waved to her in thanks. Margaret shook her head and left them to it.

"Thai Green Curry..?" Bridget volunteered.

"Nope. She doesn't do spices, remember?"

"Pasta?"

"No that's too boring... anyone can make that." She snorted. "Well, you probably can't, but still."

"Can't you do it for me?"

"No. This is your special meal for your girlfriend. From you. Not me."

"Oh yeah, that's right, I forgot! How silly of me!"

"Whatever. Will you get out of the trolley now please Declan, I can't push it and people keep looking at us!"

Declan looked up at her laughingly. He really shouldn't be having such a nice time going around a dead supermarket on a Saturday picking out the ingredients for the forgiveness-begging romantic meal of doom… but enjoying it he was.

"Dec, is it me or are you acting a bit like a 5 year old who's had too many E-numbers today?" Bridget muttered looking at him like he was a weirdo.

He shrugged. "You would be too if you'd had as many of these blue things as I'd had." He fumbled in his pocket and produced a handful of sweets, popping them happily into his mouth.

"Where did they come from? I thought you'd eaten all the ones in the bag?" Bridget frowned, and Declan shrugged again. She suddenly widened her eyes in outrage. "Tell me you didn't?" she groaned. "Christ's sake, I thought you'd grown out of your little 'artful dodger' phase?"

He laughed and popped the last few into his mouth. "Pfft. You've got to keep your hand in from time to time, don't want to lose it," Declan grinned and Bridget rolled her eyes. "Relax, noone saw. "

"God listen to you, you think you're such a bad boy. Look," she muttered. "Don't tell me about it and I won't ask." Bridget sighed heavily, looking like she had a headache coming on. He grinned again. He knew she'd understand.

"Here, how about like a really nice steak with really nice wine?"

"Nope. Steak used to be cow which used to go moo. I don't think I need to tell you the problem there." He scratched his head perpexedly. "There's also the financial aspect," and he scrounged in his other pocket to divvy up the change. "I have exactly 7 dollars 8 cents... and a mouldy apple core. Ah well. I guess I'll just have to play it by my charms."

"Eurgh what are you putting it back in your pocket for? Throw it away!" Bridget ordered. "And no, you can't just play it by your charms. You don't have any," she stated offhandedly, examining the ingredients on the back of a package of takka dahl mix. "No, you've got to cook her something."

Declan took her by the shoulders and shook her in fake exasperation. "How many times? I can't cook unless you help me Bridget."

She didn't seem to take this as defeat. "Well you can buy something then maybe?"

"Like what?"

"Like some jewellery maybe?" They stopped and peered into a glass cabinet of beads and dangly things. "That one's nice," Bridget said, quite softly.

"Really?" Declan smiled. "I didn't think you would have an opinion on such things…"

Bridget suddenly straightened up and went pink. "No well I don't. I don't wear jewellery. It just makes me look even sillier than I always do," she clarified. She avoided his gaze. "I just think it would look nice on Rachel," she frowned and suddenly pretended to be interested in the cufflink display. Declan took in her matter of fact tone in saying that. He didn't like hearing her put herself down.

"What are you talking about?" he started earnestly, watching her intently suddenly. "I've never seen you look anything other than completely lovely."

Bridget blushed further. "You don't have to say that."

"Why not? It's true!" Declan protested.

"OK," she shot quickly obviously wishing she hadn't got onto that subject. "Anyway about this present for Rachel. Get her this," she said picking up a teddy bear with a big heart on it.

He shook his head. "Once again, and you don't seem to be listening to me on this point," Declan said, exasperated, "with what money am I going to buy that?"

"True," Bridget conceded, looking a bit miserable that her efforts were failing. "Well, maybe you should think about getting a job?"

He snorted. "Bridget, give up! You are such a bossy boots!" he laughed incredulously, shaking his limbs out stiffly from his recent trolley ride as they passed the clothes aisle. "Seriously, why do you care about my life so much?"

Bridget sighed absent-mindedly, putting a packaged tie and dress shirt up to him. "I suppose it must just be that I'm madly in love with you and secretly wish I was the one you were cooking a special meal for," she stated, deadpan to the extent of ambiguity, shaking her head and then wheeling the trolley off to look at the Top 20 DVD rack. Declan looked dumbfoundedly at the back of her head.

"What?" he yelped back after her.

"Don't worry yourself, I was joking," he heard her mutter and Declan felt suddenly strange. Dissappointed? He went into recovery mode.

"Oh, OK," he stuttered. "Well that's good because Ringo would probably kill me..."

Bridget suddenly grabbed his arm and her eyes widened. His heart skipped a beat, not really knowing what she was doing.

"Oh my god!" she gasped. "Ringo! Mickey! It's been an hour, we were supposed to head back before they came out!"

She grabbed his hand and they abandonned the admittedly empty trolley on the spot, running out of the supermarket and across the car park to the entrance to the cinema as fast as their legs would carry them. They looked around as the tail end of a party of kids who'd been watching the film streamed past. Suddenly a car went past them, at a noticable speed. It was going just slow enough, however, for them to notice a certain ten-year old nose squashed spitefully against the window at them, the driver looking thunderously away from their gaze.

"This might look a little bad." Declan stated, perhaps a little too cheerfully.

"A little bad? A little bad?" Bridget spluttered and she realised her hand was still in his. She dropped it like a hot coal. "Great! Bloody great! What's this going to look like? Ringo's already got a complex about you and me!" she yelled. She flung herself on the pavement dejectedly, massaging her leg that was pained from the running. "Mickey was right, you do ruin everything! My mum is going to KILL me! Ringo is going to kill me! Rachel is definitely going to kill you if she wasn't thinking about it already and now she might throw me in there too for good measure." Bridget said her face filled with utter dread. "We are so so dead, on so many counts."

Declan sat himself down next to her on the pavement edge, not knowing what to say, feeling bad for having forgotten about her leg problems. "I'm sorry." He said quietly, looking like he might actually mean it. "Another fireman's lift to the carpark?" he tried, tentatively grinning and immediately losing the points he'd just won for being concerned.

"No!" she snapped badtemperedly. She glared. "Just don't talk to me. For like the rest of the day…"

They both looked out at the quickly disappearing ute on the horizon.

"Well, at least I managed to get a present," he started, not sure whether he was allowed to smile or not.

Bridget turned to look at him sharply. Her eyes met his questioningly before moving down and taking in taking in the strange disfigured shape of his midriff area. He gave her a cheeky grin. Comprehension dawned on her followed by further horror.

"Tell me you didn't?" She groaned, but at that point it was too late, he was already producing a very familiar looking furry teddy from under his shirt.

"Sorry," he said, this time not looking like he meant it in the slightest.

She looked like she was just trying to blank out his words at this point for fear of things getting worse than they already were. "Right well, no big deal." She began although she looked like she was having trouble convincing herself of this. "We'll just make our way to the car, I'll ring up the store later and explain everything. Like how you just got called off on an emergency and forgot to pay for it or something." She caught his expression again and frowned. "What?"

Declan spoke calmly but without amusement for the first time in an hour. "Hmm, you know that list of people out for our blood?"

Bridget looked confused. Declan continued to look somewhere over her shoulder back towards the shopping complex.

"Well, let's not panic or anything… but I think the list might have just got a little bit longer." She turned to meet his gaze and took in the sight of two burly looking security guards with walkie-talkies scanning the carpark.

"Hey that's them!" they heard in the distance.

"Okay maybe we are allowed to panic now," Declan yelped quickly. "Run!"

[kate]

Chapter 5- Shut up and drive.

----

8 o'clock.

The grandfather clock that Steve's wife's father had passed down to her chimed loudly to mark the hour. He thought, as he always did, of the jack hammer that was sitting in the shed and of smashing the ugly piece of crap into a thousand pieces.

Steve was in a bad mood.

When Bridget got home there was definitely going to be some big trouble.

And what was more, the longer she stayed out wherever the hell she'd got to, the less likely it was that he would catch the end of CSI.

Miranda looked over at him with a 'darling, think of your blood pressure' expression and he tried to remember himself.

Love was about compromise. It was about thinking about your effect on others. He placed his elbows on the table wearily and looked at the tense people sat around it.

Miranda: seriously irritable. He knew this because she kept impulsively frowning and then slapping on a forced grin as she remembered they had company.

Rebecca: sitting next to Miranda, sipping tea and throwing sympathetic, worried looks at Miranda. She was over because apparently Declan hadn't been sighted for hours either and it was looking quite like that wasn't unrelated to his daughter's being missing. She kept tossing her silky hair and was wearing a lovely greenish top, Steve noted... he stopped himself at that point because... well, you know.

Ringo: on the other side of the table, bloated expression. Steve wasn't necessarily sure why the young man was still there but he probably was under the impression that if he left before getting through the massive plate of turkey stew Miranda had reheated for him, he might be the main ingredient in the next one she made. He probably wasn't wrong there, although it did serve him right for having so smarmily waxed lyrical about it to her the last time he was over.

Mickey: showing definite signs of excitement at the prospect of a showdown, the cheeky little... well you know.

Steve sighed. Why did Bridget keep stuffing up like this all the time at the moment? Oh, if it turned out that Napier kid had something to do with it again, there would be hell to pay! He didn't know what it was about that kid but he just had this look about him. A no-good kind of look.

He tucked in his gut a bit and longed for the sofa and thought of better times: Bridget tucked up in bed, Riley doing his homework, Miranda off at yoga or whatever... telly on, watching the football highlights with some crisps. Oh for some crisps.

The doorbell rang. Everyone got their argy-bargy faces ready to yell at their respective son, daughter, cousin, girlfriend. Mickey rushed to the door, with Miranda close behind.

"Rachel!" Miranda shrieked. "Where have you been love, you're soaking wet, here let me get you a towel!"

The usually immaculate girl was certainly bedraggled.

"My brother and everyone are all out for the night at the orchestra, with their phones off", Rachel said, standing shivering, looking like she was about to cry. "I had to walk all the way back from the bus stop in West Warratah! It's taken me hours!"

"Why ever did you have to do that, darl?" Rebecca said in a soothing voice, trying to put a coat around her.

"Why?" Rachel hiccoughed shrilly, recoiling. "WHY?! Because YOUR stupid pig of a son left me to walk from there, when he knew I was feeling ill, when he KNEW I had these booty heels on, when he KNEW there was no bus services for miles today because of the diversion around there..." Rebecca looked told and tiptoed back from the highly upset young woman. "I'll, erm, make you a cup of hot cocoa, shall I, while you calm down?" She tried not to make eye contact with Steve.

Miranda hurried back in.

"You poor love- and it's raining today and everything. Is there anything we can do for you dear...?"

Rachel sniffed with dignity. "Well I was hoping to get my hands on Declan, to, you know, wring his neck and murder him in cold blood," Rachel stated, seeming like she may or may not have meant it. She looked like she could have continued with her rant but stopped herself. "Well anyway, he wasn't at home, obviously, so I just came over to speak to Bridget in the mean time, because she was supposed to lend me her geography book for tomorrow. Is she here?"

Miranda looked like she was holding back a terrified gulp as she draped a clean towel over her shoulders.

"Erm..." she squeaked.

Rachel narrowed her eyes. That girl never missed a trick.

"Am I to infer that Bridget isn't in the house Mrs Parker?" Rachel asked slightly sharply, with a tone that might have seemed rude in any other teenager addressing her elder but which she got away with from pure "I've just been out in a rainstorm I can bloody well be angry"-earnt gravitas. She shot a glare that sent shivers down the spines of everyone there.

"Are you telling me she's with HIM?!" She got up and looked like she was about to lunge herself at the door. "I'm going to kill them BOTH".

Ringo stepped in, pulling her down again. "We don't know where they are either. It's probably nothing though. Just come sit down, Rach..."

The doorbell rang and now added to the sharp intakes of breath and irritation was slight fear. Not about anything they'd done or anything, more just physical fear that Rachel was actually going to kill them.

Everyone gathered by the door, as Mickey again opened it, expecting to see their prodigal offspring.

"Constable!" Miranda shrieked, now shriller still. "We were just about to ring the station! She's gone! Noone's seen her in hours!"

"Calm down Madam," the Constable sighed. "We have reason to believe that your daughter, if that's who you you mean, is in perfect health. I would however, have more reason to be concerned of the company she's keeping." He looked up at Rebecca. "Miss Napier I presume?" he grunted. "We believe your son was involved in a shoplifting incident earlier this afternoon."

Steve looked over at Rebecca, her head in her hands, his blood boiling. Well if there wasn't a feeling of dejavue to all this. That sodding kid! He had almost gotten to liking the bloke. Bridget was so fond of him and she was always a great judge of character. Well this time time she had royally messed up again.

Steve sat back down at the table. They all sat and waited. This was not going to be pretty.

He knew he should've gone for that deal on Tivo.

*************************************

"Oh I wooonder what will becooome... of uuuuus" crooned Declan, crossing over his hands on the steering wheel like a racing car driver as he sang. "...I'm just a girrrl out looking for looov-"

Bridget pulled out the plug on his IPod. "Nope."

Declan laughed. "What do you mean 'nope'? You were singing along earlier!"

"Well someone needed to tell you," she said, smiling slightly but trying to hide it. "That was BEFORE you decided to unwittingly involve me on a crime spree and subsequent run from the law!"

"And look how much you're enjoying it."

"I'm not." She said, trying not to smile.

"You so bloody are..." he grinned, looking over at her quickly and catching her eye. She smiled at him sideways for a second before remembering herself and breaking the gaze.

"Watch where you're going you'll have us go into a tree," she chastised.

Declan groaned. "And then what would your dad say eh?! Gone to the grave with your name still muddied from the appalling company you keep!"

"Shut it you!" Bridget shot. "Morbid boy. Can you hurry up and just get me home please anyway?" She chuckled. "Unless you're scared."

"Oh no, not me..." he said, reaching to switch the music back on, and getting his hand slapped away. "I've nicked loads of stuff. Worst I've ever got is a caution. And that's IF they bother following up in the first place," he scratched his head and coughed. "Ah, noone will even have noticed we're gone." He caught himself in the mirror and pretended to be distracted while driving to wind her up. "Anyway, right, I've been thinking..." he paused dramatically. "don't take the mick but... are earrings that bad on guys..? I just think it could perfect the eighties badboy look for me, you know?!"

He looked over at Bridget to gauge her reaction but was surprised at what he saw. She was looking at her phone, strangely bewildered.

"Heeey, it's not thaat bad an idea is it?" he frowned, pretending to be deeply hurt.

"I just got a text message from Rachel," Bridget started, her voice a bit shakey and quiet. "She says she 'never wants to see either of our stupid faces around there again'. "

Declan made a face. "Oh. Well that's reasonable. Not like we live there or anything Rachel," Declan grunted, rolling his eyes. "Oh relax will you, being a cow is her way of telling you she thinks you're worth bothering with."

"She's not usually like that with me though," Bridget said quietly, clearly a bit upset. "And she said it all in longform too so she must be angry. I don't know what I'm supposed to have... done..?"

"Your problem, Bridget, is you're too profoundly good and nice. You don't get it when other people aren't." He swerved into the cul de sac with a screech. "All right Madam, I thiink think this our dest- Fu-" he stopped short, and hit the brakes, looking at the police car parked in front of his house.

"-dge." Bridget finished for him, not having looked up from the text she was writing.

"Erm, yep," he said hurriedly, in an innocent tone, hoping that if he manoeuvred the car swiftly enough back out of the cul de sac. She might not see the worrying sight and just think he was being whacky again. "Feel like going for another drive?"

But instead of her answer there was the jolt of a stalling car. Bridget jerked her head up in surprise and looked up, just coming out of the concentration she'd been in for long enough to take in the surroundings.

There was silence.

She had definitely seen, and was definitely panicking.

And for perhaps shall we say the 5264343424th time that day, Declan began to suspect he'd commited aother fauxpas on the communicating with females front.

"What?" Bridget started, her face looking angrier and angrier. "WHAT? 'Go for a drive?'" "Jesus Christ. Jesus bloody Christ." She looked like she might actually smack him this time, as she flapped around, hyperventilating. "OH! OH! 'Let's go for a drive Bridget!' mimicked Bridget, in a really bad impression of a male voice, but Declan could tell it possibly wasn't the time to call her on it as he noticed the angry tears rolling down her face. 'I'm Declan, I've just got my supposed friend into..." she waved her hands as she looked for non-swearing vocabulary to describe it, "sodloads of trouble with her family and friends but I think the answer to all problems is 'let's go for a drive'!" She wiped her eyes harshly. "I can't go back in there after this! Not now! Not in an hour! What are we going to do?"

"Calm down will you," Declan winced feeling bad. "Well if you really think it's that bad, I do know a place we could go and lay low for a while.." he started.

Bridget looked at him in disbelief.

"You think this is an opportunity for us to go on a nice camping trip do you..?" she bit. "Do you not understand what kind of trouble I'm in with my dad? You're just... unbelievable... don't talk to me. Really this time. Just don't talk to me."

Bridget put both hands to her hair in anguish.

The two of them gazed up at the house frozen in trepidation. The lights were on in the front room. Suddenly the thin curtain twitched. It was Ringo. He didn't seem to notice Declan's car at first but then a horrible look of recognition came over his face. He looked around cautiously and then seemed to mouth something at him urgently. Declan squinted at him, not really understanding.

But it was too late. Another face appeared at his side. Their hearts dropped into their stomachs.

Mickey followed Ringo's gaze and started to open his mouth, gaping. Declan couldn't tell but it looked a lot like the look on a kid's face just as they were about to yell for their big, bald, bloodthirsty uncle with the intention of dobbing a poor unsuspecting young man right in it.

They were definitely in the doodoo.

"Shii-" Declan squeaked, gulping, stuffing one hand in his mouth in terror and tearing the ignition with the other. "I think I'm going to have to take that as a yes for our little minibreak Bridget."

"Just shut up and DRIVE!" Bridget ordered, practically taking hold of the handbrake for him.

The car screeched off again towards the horizon.

[Bee]

ahh i love it kate! i remember reading this a while ago on nfans but that was until i got banned..so its nice to catch up on all this...

update soon (:

[kate]

thanks lia!

[smilelino]

I really like this story a lot. I can't wait for the update.