"Right," said Clive, as Jason's car pulled out of the car park with a scrunch of gravel followed by a squeal of abused rubber. "First rule. I don't work weekends. Fuck off till Monday." He grinned at us. "Weekends are for friends, family, whatever the heck else you want. This is work, now. Just 'cause it's more fun than working the till at Morrisons doesn't mean you have to do it every hour God sends. Go on. Off with the lot of you."

I laughed. "When do you want us back?"

"Up to you guys. If you prefer an earlier start than the middle of the afternoon, I'm OK with that."

Darren considered. "Ten o'clock OK?"

Kev groaned, but then I was half-expecting him to. "God. I thought I gave up getting up early."

Clive grinned. "You try having kids, mate." He looked round at the rest of us. "Monday at ten, then?" We variously nodded and voiced our agreement. "Good. See you then, m'dears. Now git."

We did as we were told, laughing. Which was a distinct improvement on the day before.

Saturday was spent arranging Melissa's stuff. By lunchtime we'd reached the end of what we could do without some more shelving, since Dave had asked to take away the existing bookcases.

Melissa sat on the bed, fiddling aimlessly with a tape measure. "I dunno..."

"Mmm?" I straightened up from moving a box of CDs. "What?"

She ran a hand through her hair. "I'm being silly. But that doesn't stop me feeling like I'm intruding, still."

"Hey..." I knelt in front of her, and took the tape measure out of her hand. "Enough." I tried to keep it firm but gentle. "You taught me something, not so long ago, whether you meant to or not."

She looked at me, baffled. "I... don't ...."

"Sure you did. You taught me that some chances are too good to pass up." I took her hand in my own. "This is one of them."

Melissa bit her lip, looked away. "I... I'm scared."

OK. That was a new one on me. "Of what?" I asked, trying but failing to keep the puzzlement out of my voice.

She swallowed, tried to tug her hand away, but relented when I resisted. "It's not your fault. It's me. It... it's just... the.. the more I believe in something, the more I have to lose." She paused for a moment, then let out a quiet sigh. "It... it'd be easier to say no. Better to... to have something less good, but that I'm less afraid of losing."

"You won't. I..." I stopped, as the realisation clicked home. "Nothing I can say will make it that different, will it?" Somewhere downstairs the phone rang. I ignored it.

Melissa shook her head. "No. Not just by saying 'it'll be fine'. I know... I know you're right, in my head. Logically. But believing it's another thing altogether." She looked up, dark eyes meeting mine. "My mum used to promise me things. I got so I stopped believing, 'cause I just ended up getting let down." She sighed. "It's not your fault. And... you have helped. I'm... better than I was. Just..." Her gaze dropped to her hand, held in mine. "Just don't make promises you can't keep."

I nodded, slowly. "I..." No. Not the time to make a promise. I squeezed her hands, let go. However... "Will you make me a promise?"

Her head came up, and she looked at me, startled. "I... what?"

Damn. I wasn't, suddenly, sure that had been a good idea. "I... never mind. It's OK."

Melissa shook her head. "Go on..." She looked apprehensive, yet determined. "What was it?"

I sat back on my heels. "You sure?"

She laughed, slightly forced. "No. But it's you, and if I'm going to believe in someone, it might as well be you. Go on."

"OK." I tried to find the right words. "Will you... uh... will you promise me..." God, this was hard, with those impossibly dark eyes on mine. And knowing that this mattered to her. "Promise me if you need help you'll ask me. Whatever it is." Something I remember hearing as a younger teenager came to mind. "Mum always used to say, whatever it was, short of murder, it wasn't so dreadful she couldn't fix it. However bad or silly I thought it was."

She considered that, for a moment. Then nodded, slowly. "OK. I'll try. I promise." She shook her hair back, letting it fall around her shoulders, and smiled. "Thank you."

I tried to keep the sigh of relief to myself. "It's OK." I tossed her the tape. "Can we measure up for shelves before lunch?"

"Sure..."

We were interrupted by Mum calling from downstairs. "Alison?"

I went to the door and leaned out onto the landing, to find Mum at the foot of the stairs. "Yeah?"

"Your brother just called. If you're going into town this afternoon, can you go by the shop and pick up his laundry?"

"His what?" I giggled. "Doesn't his new place have a washing machine?"

"Apparently not. He's coming for Sunday lunch."

"With Trish?" I asked, and Melissa shot me a startled look.

"No. She's down at her parents in London, he says. You two ready for lunch?"

I smiled reassuringly at Melissa, who looked visibly relieved. "Give us five minutes?"

We turned up at the shop in Melissa's Fiesta, loaded with flat pack furniture, around three o'clock. As usual, there was nowhere to park - there never is on a Saturday - so she dropped me off and disappeared up a side street and round the block. I took a deep breath, and pushed the door open, to the familiar sound of the bell.

"Well, look who's here!" grinned Shawn, from halfway across the room. "They sack you already?"

I stuck my tongue out at him. "Nope. Weekends off."

Dave emerged from out the back, carrying one end of a big keyboard. "Better deal than you gave her, Shawn."

He laughed, doubly so at my expression as the person carrying the other end came into view. It was Greg. Who looked almost as surprised to see me. "Er.... hi, Alison."

Shawn just grinned. "Meet your replacement."

I leaned against the counter for support. "You never told me!"

He smirked. "You never asked. We discussed it after you left the other Saturday, in the Bull."

Sometimes, I could hit him. "But... he... he was working at Baker Travel..." I turned to Greg, who'd managed to get the piano settled on its stand without mishap. "Weren't you?"

"Uh..." He coloured a little. "Yeah. They, um... fired me."

"What on earth for?" I asked.

"Um." He looked down at his feet, worried at his bottom lip. "Uh. Poor timekeeping. Or so they said."

"Oh." They did have a reputation for going through staff, and I wondered exactly what he'd done. Been late back from lunch a couple of times, perhaps? I didn't voice that, instead settling for "I'm sure Shawn's not going to do that."

Shawn laughed. "Only if it'll get you to come back. Need someone who understands keyboards."

I grinned. "I thought you did." I looked over at my brother. "So. Dave. Laundry."

He groaned. "Embarrass me in front of the whole shop, why don't you?"

"You could always learn to work a washing machine."

Dave made a rude noise and disappeared out the back. Shawn got waylaid by a customer who wanted to try out a couple of guitars, which left me and Greg. The latter looked up, after a moment's awkward pause. "Your brother's doing sound for us tonight."

"Oh?" I laughed. "He never tells me anything now he's not living at home."

"Yeah. We're playing the Coach and Horses."

I wasn't likely to forget the place Matt had died. "Great." I did my best to keep the echo of that memory out of my voice, and smiled. "Hope you have a good one."

"Thanks." He scuffed one shoe against the edge of the counter, and then asked, not really looking up, "I was... uh... wondering if you... uh... were doing anything tomorrow night. Maybe fancied going to see a film?"

He'd just asked me out. "Oh..." My turn to study the floor, and will myself not to babble, or blush. "Um." I had vivid memories, for some reason, of one of my peers in my last year at school reducing a guy to near tears with a loud, incredulous, 'Are you asking me OUT?' in the middle of the school playground. "I..." The carpet badly needed vacuuming. "I guess so. What... what did you have in mind?"

"You do...?" He did his best to conceal the surprise and delight in that reaction. "I... I mean... um... I dunno. Kind of figured we could meet up around... er... half past seven and see what's on?"

"Yeah. That sounds great." I looked up at him, to find him watching me. "I... I'll see you then. Showcase, half seven?"

"OK." He smiled, and I found myself liking that smile a lot.

We were saved further awkwardness by the return of Dave with a big holdall, which he dumped at my feet. "Here you are. Mum said it wasn't a problem."

I made a mental note to have a chat with him tomorrow about that. "Sure. See you tomorrow?"

"Ali?" The doorbell heralded Melissa. "I'm parked on double yellow lines. You done?"

"Yeah." I picked up the holdall, smiled at Greg. "See you."

He actually blushed. "Yeah."

Melissa eyed me as we were driving back. "OK. Spill."

She was nothing if not observant. "Uh... he... um... asked me out tomorrow night. Movie."

Her giggle of delight was hardly calculated to stop me blushing. "Woo. You're going."

It registered that that wasn't a question. "Thought I might."

She chuckled. "Good."

Dave arrived around noon on Sunday, letting himself in with a cheery, "Anyone home?"

"Me." I called from the utility room where I was just loading the last of his laundry. "Melissa and Mum are upstairs, hanging curtains." Mum had remembered the original curtains for that room being up in the loft. I'd insisted Melissa or I climbed up there to get them, though. "Come through, I want to show you something."

He peered in from the kitchen at the cramped utility room. "Huh?"

I grinned. "Hi. This is a washing machine."

He stuck his tongue out at me. "I know."

"Time you learned how to use one."

He shrugged. "But..."

"No buts. Come in and shut the door for a sec."

He got the message I was serious, doing as he was told and leaning on the tumble drier. "Uh. Wassup, sis?"

I told him about Thursday night, and Mum's shopping trip. "She's getting old, Dave." I sighed. "You want laundry doing, fine. But come here for an evening and do it yourself, 'kay?"

Dave bit his lip. "OK. I hear you." He frowned. "Is she all right?"

I looked up at him. "I hope so. Persuading her to get to a doctor to prove it won't be easy though."

He chuckled. "Has she ever been to a doctor?"

I racked my brains to try and remember. And failed. "Last time was probably when she had me."

"Right."

"Dave?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm off on tour in December. I won't be here for a whole month. Neither will Melissa." That clearly hadn't occurred to him. "Keep an eye on her. Make sure she's OK, don't let her do silly things like walk back from the bus stop with four bags of heavy shopping."

He nodded. "I will. I promise, sis."

I held his gaze for a second, till I was sure he meant it. "Good. And make sure she gets to meet Trish. You know she wants to."

He nodded. "I know. She'd have come today, but she's got a sort of tryout for the new job over the weekend down in London, so she's staying with her mum and dad in Harrow."

Everyone seemed to be changing jobs this week. "Oh? What's she doing?"

He blinked. "Liam didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?" No-one told me anything, apparently.

He straightened up. "Blue Flame liked what she did with you guys so much, they asked her down to consider working for them as a photographer and designer."

"Wow. No, I didn't know." I wondered how she was coping with that. "She OK with it?"

He nodded. "Seems to be."

"Neat." I poked him. "Now move, and put this load in the drier." I tossed him an article of clothing off the top that definitely didn't belong to him. "Especially if you're expecting Trish's underwear washed as well."

Sometimes, making Dave blush was sweet.

Over lunch, Melissa and I filled Dave in on our week in the studio. He stayed for the afternoon, and actually volunteered, to Mum's surprise, to do some work in the garden since it wasn't raining. I was kind of proud of him for that. Around six, I headed up to my room to shower and get ready. Dave eyed me. "Going somewhere?"

I did my best to sound casual. "Movies."

He eyed Melissa, who wasn't budging from the arm chair. "Both of you."

"No."

"Oh. Anyone I know?"

I shrugged. "Maybe."

"You're blushing, sis."

Damn. How did he manage that? "Am not."

Melissa giggled. "Yes you are."

And she wasn't helping either. "It's Greg, if you must know." As soon as I said it, I realised he already did.

"Mmm. Need a lift?"

I was so tempted to say no, but in the end I shrugged. "If you're going around that time."

Melissa came upstairs once I was out of the shower, to find me in my underwear with half a dozen tops strewn over the bed. She laughed. "Decisions?"

I nodded. "I think I need my personal stylist."

She smiled, and sat on the bed. "Right here."

I bit my lip. "I wondered about the black one."

Melissa shook her head. "Definitely not first date material. Bravery points for thinking about it, though." She eyed me critically. "You've lost weight."

"Doesn't feel like it after that Sunday lunch," I protested.

"You have." Melissa smiled. "Try the pink one."

"It's very pink."

"Trust me."

Her eyes sparkled, and it was impossible to refuse her. This was one of the few areas where she believed in herself, at least around me, where she knew she was good. I promised myself there were going to be more, if I had any say in the matter. "OK. There."

She motioned for me to turn round, then nodded. "And the black jeans - the ones with the sparkly bits." I did as I was told, turned again for her scrutiny. "You look great."

"Thanks to you."

She smiled, and patted the bed. "Sit, and I'll brush out your hair." I did as I was told. "So." She started to work the brush through my drying and tangled locks. "You like him?"

"I... Ow..."

"Sorry."

"I... yeah. He's funny, and kind of sweet. And not annoying, like his lead singer."

She nodded, working on a snarl. "He's nice."

I giggled. "I saw him first."

She poked me, gently, with the brush. "Ali, love. He wouldn't notice me if I lap-danced naked for him."

I tried to turn and look at her. "He would," I protested. "Anyone would, Melissa. You're gorgeous."

She laughed, softly. "He wouldn't. He's only got eyes on one person, and it's not me."

"Oh." I digested that information, swallowed. "You sure?"

"Positive."

Dave dropped me off outside the cinema complex at twenty past seven, having been threatened with all kinds of dire consequences if he came in with me. I found a spot by the ticket desk and waited, scanning the choice of movies. To my surprise, at least two guys made attempts to chat me up in the five minutes before Greg showed, to my relief, frowning in the doorway as he scanned the foyer for me. I grinned at the eager lad in front of me, waved to Greg. "Sorry. Boyfriend's here. Gotta go." It didn't sound at all bad, now I'd tried it out as a phrase.

Greg hurried over, stopped. "Wow... you look great."

I know I blushed a little. "Thanks." I slipped an arm round his waist, just to prove the point to the other guy. "Any idea what you want to see?"

"Uh..." He was cute when he got tongue-tied. "N.. no. I figured you could choose."

We eventually settled on a sort of sci-fi horror movie starring Kate Beckinsale, whose title I clean forget now. I'm a sucker for being scared - in fact, I'm the perfect audience for a good scary movie. I squeal and squeak in all the right places, I watch the scary bits through my fingers, I cower... In short, I had a great time, spending most of the final twenty minutes of the movie cuddled up to Greg, peeking out from against his shoulder to watch.

As the titles rolled, he smiled down at me. "You OK?"

I giggled a little nervously. "Yeah. I like horror movies."

He laughed. "Could have fooled me."

I straightened up a little, pushed a wayward strand of hair off my face, then very deliberately settled back against him. "Seriously. And, um... mind if we stay and watch the credits? It's kind of a thing in our family."

"Sure."

He slid an arm round my shoulders, and we watched them in companionable silence, right the way through to the two second reappearance of the not-so-dead bad guy at the very end of the credits that nearly made me jump out of my skin in fright.

"Well," said Greg, once he'd pried my fingers loose of their death grip on his arm. "At least we know there's a sequel."

We made it out of the cinema with five minutes to spare for my last bus, and about ten for his, waiting at the stop with a small knot of other teenagers. I leaned back against him, his arms round my middle, and we stood that way for a moment or two. I found myself hoping the bus would be late. "This was fun," I said, quietly. "Thanks for asking me."

"I... um... You're welcome." He settled for nuzzling my hair gently.

Deep breath. "We could do this again."

"We could?"

He sounded like he was having trouble adjusting to that idea. I couldn't really blame him, since it was a new one on me, too. But one that I was finding I could get to like. I turned, slipping arms round his neck, and smiled up at him. He actually wasn't that much taller than me. "We could. I'd like that," I murmured, from a couple of inches away.

"Oh..."

We kissed. It was clumsy and awkward, but I don't think either of us minded. I certainly didn't.

I did mind the bus being on time, though.

I walked the quarter-mile home from the bus stop. Actually, no. I floated it. At least it felt that way. A light shone faintly in the living room as I walked up the drive, but, surprisingly, there was no Mum to open the door to me. That was enough to bring me down to earth with a bump: Mum being there to let me in when I got home was another of those things I'd just taken for granted. I fished for my keys and unlocked the front door, shutting and re-locking it quietly behind me, and followed the spill of light through from the hall into the living room.

Melissa was curled up on the settee, head pillowed on a cushion and one hand, hair a tangled mess over the arm of the sofa. She had on one of my old t-shirts as a night shirt, bare legs tucked up underneath her, her other hand trapped between her knees, and was sound asleep.

Carefully, so as not to disturb her, I sat down on the sofa. Last time I'd watched over her sleeping, it was dark, and I was beyond tired, drained, and more than a little the worse for drink. Tonight, I was awake and sober, and the soft light of the standard lamp illuminated her face and revealed deep chestnut highlights in her mane of dark hair. Her lips curved in a slight smile as she slept, and she seemed somehow at peace, the rise and fall of her breathing a gentle, hypnotic thing. As I watched, she stirred a little, shifting position in her sleep, and settled, breathing evening out again to that steady rhythm.

I realised in that moment that I loved her. Not in any sexual way: that didn't enter my thoughts. Just... heck. I can't explain. You either understand what it feels like - that purest joy that someone else exists, that certain knowledge that someone else's happiness matters as much as your own - or you don't. Greg I liked. I was even attracted to him. And perhaps I could grow to love him. But I'd have walked through fire for Melissa Garcia, there and then, afraid of flames or not. For no reward other than to keep that quiet, peaceful smile on her face.

For the longest time I sat there, just listened to the even sound of her breathing amid the old familiar noises from the house, till I caught myself nodding off. Time to go to bed. I almost left her there, peacefully sleeping, but in the end I reached forward, rested a hand on one bare thigh, and shook her gently. "Melissa?"

"Mmm?" She burrowed into the cushion with a sleepy noise of protest.

"Wake up, love. You'll get a stiff neck."

She blinked drowsily back at me. "Wha...?" Recognition dawned. "Oh... Ali."

I nodded. "It's me. Time for bed."

She struggled upright, rubbing at her eyes. "I... ugh. I made your mum go to bed. I wasn't going to doze off..." Contrite, even ashamed. "I promised her I'd wait up for you."

I put an arm round her, hugged her gently. "It's fine. I've not been in long."

Dark eyes blinked up at me, relieved. "Oh... Did... did you have a good time?"

I thought back to earlier in the evening. "Yeah. Sarah would say we're officially an item, I think. There was kissing."

She giggled, sleepily, and leaned against my shoulder. "Good. You OK?"

I rested my cheek on her hair for a second or two. "Better than OK. C'mon. Bedtime."