Die for You

Chapter 77

James looked across at Becky and Bonnie, dragging his eyes from the picture atop the fireplace. The girls were looking at him expectantly, Bonnie with a smirk on her lips. 

"What?" he asked as they looked at each other knowingly. "I miss her too, you know, I am allowed to miss my friend, there's nothing wrong with that."

"You are," Becky said hugging him tightly; "and you're right, there's nothing wrong with that at all." 

It was a loud whistle from the kitchen that dragged them apart, Becky jumping up to take it off the hob and pour the pot of tea she was making for Bonnie and herself. Under a knowing smile from Bonnie, James and Darren took a long pull from their beers and tried to ignore her. 

"You're a soft sod, aren't you, James?" she said with a laugh. 

"No softer than you, Bon," he replied primly, "you miss her too. You think she's going to be alright out there?" Cook asked as he sat on the sofa.

"Yeah," Bonnie said, "she'll be ok; like she said, she's just missing Freen. We just need to get her past Christmas and she'll be fine; come New Year, she'll be herself again." 

"Well, that's what were here for," he said as he sipped on his beer. "If we can't take her mind off things right now, I don't know who can!" 

"I don't think we're doing a good job, James. Right now, I don't think we're doing a very good job at all." 

Never was a truer word spoken, because in the kitchen Becky was pouring hot water into the teapot, lost in her own memories of the woman she loved. 

-----

"What on earth are you doing, Becky?" Freen said leaning against the doorway to the kitchen in Becky's tiny flat. It was not long after their first proper dinner together, and what they had was tentative and still a little awkward. 

"I'm making tea, what does it look like?" she replied indignantly, spooning the tea bag out of the cup and throwing it into the bin, a trail of drips marking its passing. 

"I have no idea," Freen replied stepping up next to her, "why aren't you using a pot?" 

"Don't have one," she admitted, slopping milk into the cups messily, "never needed one being on my own; here, drink it." 

"Do I have to?" Freen asked sniffing at the drink suspiciously, "I'm sure I had better tea in the desert, and that usually had sand in it!" 

"Oh shush," Becky replied with a slight stamp of her foot. "Just because I'm not the world's greatest cook doesn't mean that I can't make a simple cup of tea." 

Unfortunately, even Becky had to admit, the evidence didn't support her theory. The tea was bitter, stewed and clearly undrinkable; still, she forced it down without a word and, to her endless credit, Freen did the same. Two days later though, a box arrived at the office addressed to 'Becky 'tea murderer' Armstrong. Bonnie had placed it on her desk with a smile and left her to open it. There wasn't a note, but inside shef ound a large glass Bodum teapot with matching cups and a selection of Twinings leaf teas. 

With a smile, Becky closed the box and got up from her desk, opening the door to her office, finding Freen, as always, on duty outside. 

"A minute, Miss Sarocha," she said, walking back to her desk. Freen followed her in, standing 'at ease' in front of the desk as usual. 

"Subtle," Becky said with a smile, "'tea murderer', you know the wankers in the post room are going to have a field day, don't you?"