Dirty Little Secret

When my big sister first told me she was getting married, I spat my orange juice all across the kitchen. I didn't know whether or not to believe it. It'd been a Wednesday afternoon, and I was halfway through a very intricate sketch of a new dress design that kinda just came to me in my sleep. I'd been really annoyed at having to answer the phone. But that kinda died away when I heard Sharon on the other end. Seriously, I don't see enough of her anymore. She took off from my mum's house one time to go and travel America. "Discover herself" was the term she used, I think. Dad flipped out. Cos it wasn't just a flight of fancy this time. She signed over power of attorney to him so he could run the club for her. She intended to be gone for a long time. And she weren't kidding. It's been three years now and I've seen her for two Christmases, one birthday and the occassional summer visit.

She's always on the phone though, so I guess it's only been possible to miss her physically, but she's looked so much more gorgeous each time I've seen her, with age and with all that extra sun, I kinda couldn't wait for her to disappear again, just so I could feel less put out at how pasty and drawn I look working all those hours at the club. That was one of the conditions attached to the power of attorney - Dad had to give me a job behind the bar. I swear, he's paying me less than the soddin' cleaner, reckons he can get away with it too cos he's my dad, not just my soddin' boss. I know Sharon thought she was trying to help me out and everything, and it's not that I don't enjoy working at the club, it's just, it ain't nice having the one guy rule you so much. I thought I answered to Dad enough.

Maybe that's why Sharon took off. I'll be honest, I don't really know. She just did it, before anyone could stop her I guess. I suppose she got a bit sick of having to be Daddy's little girl at her age. Time to break free and live life. Ach, I hope I'm not gonna be thirty-odd before I summon the courage too.

I hope I get to meet a guy like Sharon's mind. I've heard loads about him. He's nearly five years younger than Sharon apparantly. That was one of the first things she told me, like it was the fact she was proudest of. Mind you, I can see why, been sent plenty of photos and the man's drop dead gorgeous, there's no denying it. And he looks pretty good cosied up to my sister an' all. That's one thing I saw they have in common straightaway. They're both total posers, and they'll pose anywhere too, just for my benefit it seems; the beach, the car, the pub, anywhere. Everytime my phone bleeps at four a.m I know it's safe to ignore it, because I know it's just another picture message from Sharon, so I don't need to look until the morning. Not that I mind looking, he has really captivating eyes.

Sharon says that's about the only thing that forced her to trust him when they first met. She'd rented out a really flash car. I got quite sulky when I heard about it. Red convertible she said, and she went down all the quiet back roads at the kinda speeds that were gonna get her arrested. She bloody well knows I've always wanted to do that, just to feel the adrenaline. But the cow went ahead and did it without me, the wind ripping through her hair - and something else she never managed to indentify ripping through one of her tyres. Now, admittedly, Sharon is an extremely independant woman, but she also has very expensive cared for nails - she knew about as much about changing a tyre as she did achieving world peace. So apparantly, she stayed there, pacing in her new Jimmy Choos and cursing as she tried to get a signal on her phone. She'd been there about twenty minutes when he came out the back of one of the nightclubs. He'd been about to spark up a fag when he'd caught sight of her and gone over to ask if she needed a hand. She says herself that she was pretty off-hand with him, but I reckon that's probably what attracted him.

He'd told her the nearest garage was a few miles away, and seeing as she didn't have the spare tyre for him to help her out, she'd need a lift to the garage and back to sort it out.

"You've been drinking..." said my sister scornfully, evidently not yet appreciating the fact that actual sex on legs had just put himself at her disposal.

"Nah. I've been working. Just come off shift actually. But hey, you don't want my help, next one's over in twelve hours... good luck."

Luckily, not even Sharon was stupid enough to let herself get left there. She says it was cos she could see in his eyes he was teasing her. I don't believe that, but she could be right. I reckon that's the only look he's ever had in his eyes! Thankfully, she got in his car and eased up, and the rest, quite obviously, is history.

But yeah, they've been together nearly two years now. That's why the family have only managed to get Sharon back to Walford for two Christmases - she spent Christmas just gone with him. That's when Dad was forced to realise it was getting serious. Me and Chrissie were quicker off the mark, noticing the subtleties Dad never would. We kinda knew it was getting serious when Sharon started adding his name to the ends of her letters. 

Love,

Sharon & Dennis

Yeah, it's kinda weird thinking my sister was getting serious with a guy that has the same name as our dad, but whatever, no-one can help that. Besides, we've all seen the photos - he definitely isn't Dad. Except possibly for the fact that all Dad's ever done to show recognition for the latest round of photos, or indeed the fact that Sharon's in a relationship at all, is grunt and accuse Dennis of being "flashy". Hmmm, we all know someone like that already don't we, Dad?

It seemed to be even more serious when Dennis started scrawling his own paragraphs to us. The shameless kinda stuff that would make me & Chrissie crease up laughing and Dad glower. Stuff like this one time he and Sharon got so drunk in this really posh restaurant on the beach-front that she fell asleep in her food. He'd wanted to leave her there, but found he couldn't do it cos he'd never known anyone could still look so good with parfait in their hair. I asked her about that when she next called (I always wait for her to call me, no way am I calling a mobile in America - Dad would kill me!) and she denied it. I knew she was lying of course, because she pulled the phone back and started yelling at Dennis, thinking I couldn't hear her. It was hilarious. I made a point of leaving a message for him in my next letter, telling him to never miss out the embarrassing stuff.

Maybe I shoulda mentioned the huge stuff too. Cos when Sharon told me they were engaged, she said it like it was an afterthought, like in passing, so calm, as if all she was doing was telling me she might pop to the shops later. In fact, I think she was about to say goodbye and have the nerve to hang up on me when she said; "Oh... and Dennis proposed to me yesterday..."

I'd taken the phone out with me into the kitchen to grab some juice from the fridge, my mouth dry from all that concentrating over the sketch. And that was a bad move. Cos I'd just taken my first hefty sip when she said that and I ended up spitting the whole mouthful out all over the kitchen surfaces, choking.

"What?"

There was a beat of silence, nothing else. No giggling, no glee at teasing me so mercilessly with her nonchalance. She just repeated herself as calm as anything. "I said... Dennis proposed to me yesterday."

"Yeah..." I replied, nodding as I forced breaths down into my raw throat. "That's what I thought you said." 

She frustrated me beyond words I swear. She just wasn't making the effort to say anything. And then I had that really sickening thought, unable to stop myself asking the question.

"You didn't turn him down did you? I mean, you are getting married aren't you?"

"I think that's what he wanted, yeah." she said dreamily. And I dared to let that bubble in my chest get a little bit excited.

"So you said...?"

"I said "Yes!" you daft cow, what was I supposed to say?"

At that, I was grinning even as I was mopping up the orange juice with sheets of kitchen roll that split as soon as they touched moisture. "Oh I don't know, Sharon! How about, why don't we go meet up with my adorable little sister before we go making the big life decisions?"

"Mmmm, Dennis seems to be thinking of it like that too. I'm still tryin' to convince him we should go to Nevada and just do it."

I'd gasped, not quite sure whether I was amused or horrified. "You, married by the King for $100 in a chapel in Las Vegas? Eurgh, I thought you had class Sharon. That's so tacky!"

"And there was me thinkin' you'd love it like that, Vicki."

"No! I forbid you to marry the guy before I've met him! After that, I'll give you the $100 myself! I just... argh, Sharon, how can you and Dennis have been together for nearly two years and you've never dragged him back here?"

"Hey!" she'd laughed defensively. "We've been in the apartment together for 6 months, you know where we are and you know you've always been welcome."

"Hmph! And when was I supposed to find the time to jump on a plane to Miami, Sharon? Oh have you forgotten that Dad's been working me into the ground ever since you left?"

"No Vicki!" she'd said with a sarcastic sigh, and I swear I could almost see her rolling her eyes at me. "I haven't forgotten... you remind me everytime I call. Just be honest, why would I wanna go back to Walford when I've got the sun and sea on my doorstep?"

"Cos it's your home!"

"It was. This is my home now. But don't worry, Dennis is on your side on this one. He wants to meet you guys. We're booking flights to Walford in the next couple of days, OK?" It was more than OK, there was me, biting back my squeals of happiness. "And you madam, aren't to say anything to Chrissie or Dad alright? I want to tell them myself!"

I don't quite know how it worked out this way, but I seem to be more nervous about heading back to the family than Dennis does. He reckons it'll be home from home... apparantly his mum used to live not far from Walford. How weird is that? I came halfway across the world not even looking for a man and I found the best one ever... when he hails miles from where I do. It's freaky to think we mighta passed each other on a street in London and never thought anything of it. But I guess, being so far away from home, it's kinda a comfort knowing he's a Londoner. Even just hearing him speak settles me. It's probably only thanks to him that I've never lost my accent either. Not that I ever realised it was an accent til I came here!

Dennis left London when his mum died in the spring of 2003. He says he had no idea where he was going, that he barely cared. He just threw all his stuff into a bag one day not long after her funeral, grabbed his passport and got on the cheapest flight going. He'd been working in that club for two months or so by the time we met. He's still there now... sort of. Gone up through the ranks now he has, and his boss doesn't keep him in one venue anymore. Dennis works in half the clubs across the state, I swear. He reckons he likes the fact it's unpredictable, never knowing where he's gonna be one week from the next, but me? I hate it. I miss him so damn much. 

The weekends we have together are never long enough. There's so much we could be doing, but then of course, it's usually too much of an effort to drag ourselves out of bed. There's one upside to it I guess. We still have an incredible sex life. Still, I'd love the chance to know if it'd last all week long. My girlfriends are all really jealous cos Dennis and me, we're still not over the phase of needing to be unashamedly all over each other. And almost everyone we have come to know between us says that died out after six months... and six months is only if you're one of the lucky ones. Well, me and Dennis are obviously more than lucky. 

When we decided to get a place together, everyone got really omnious, said we were asking for it. It being the slippery slope to a failed relationship. No way, not happening, not ever. We talked it out as soon as we decided we'd go ahead and do it. Neither of us relinquished our tenancy agreements. It was expensive, but it was necessary if there was any chance we might not be happy living together. Because if we weren't, the last thing either of us wanted was to get into rowing every other night and splitting up. So we decided straight away, even if we found we couldn't live together, we'd go back to how it was - no splitting up. It took about three very happy months before we signed our tenancy agreements off, assured that we were meant to live together. We'd had nothing more than a few rows about how many posters Dennis was allowed to plaster the wall with and how the Hell I expected to store all my shoes. But yeah, we've been happy. And maybe his working pattern helps, I really don't know. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that.

But maybe Dennis is tired of absence too, cos he actually wants to marry me. I've had days to get used to the fact, but it still seems hugely surreal. As fantastic as I think he is, I'd never have thought he'd be in for all this. He admits (well, he did it pretty reluctantly actually, I guess he thought I'd think bad of him... but a past's a past right? It can't hurt you!) that he was whoring around pretty much from his first girl to the one he'd taken to sleeping with a couple of days before we met. I'd feel sorry for her if I knew her name, but Dennis refuses to tell me. I think that means he was still sleeping with her even after we met. I had this suspicion right from the off he wasn't exactly single. I mean, he's gorgeous, it woulda been a crime if true! So I held off for a while. We'd meet for a drink every few days and we'd talk. For someone so obviously guarded, he's surprisingly easy to talk to. It was a good few weeks before I let anything... happen. But from then til now, it hasn't stopped and I've never been happier.

I can't help feeling anxious though. I mean, we've gotten on a plane, we're going back to London, now completely without choice. And I can't stop this thought niggling. Maybe Vicki's right. It's a bit off going back home with Dennis for the first time and introducing him as my fiancé isn't it? We have been together two whole years, surely I should have made sure that he could have met everyone before we went making such big decisions? I don't regret it, not for a second. I just... I can't believe I didn't give my family a thought. They just seem like such separate world now, that's all. Everything that's back in Walford, it just reminds me of who I was. I'm a completely different person now and happy that way too. Surely it's not wrong of me to wanna forget all the hurt I suffered back on that Square? Thinking I'd lost Dad, all that madness with Phil & Grant, losing Tom... let's be honest, I've haven't been happier since I left that damn Square. Why would I wanna go back? Why would I want Dennis, the single most perfect figure in my life right now, to realise what I was?

I can feel myself start to shake with nerves. I flinch in surprise as I feel Dennis' fingertips curl comfortingly around mine.

"It'll be alright, y'know..."

"Yeah..." I reply breathlessly, forcing myself to nod as I squeeze his hand back, grateful for his touch. "I know."

"Do ya?" he questions softly, leaning closer. "You've barely said a word since we left the apartment."

I feel my lips curve into a slight smile in spite of myself. "I dunno, it's just... Walford's a completely different life. I feel like I'm taking a step backwards."

"What, by going to catch up with your family for a few days?"

"It's not a nice place..."

"I can't believe you just said that. You never stop going on about that Square."

"Ranting about that Square." I correct pointedly. "I should have given up trying to make good of that place years ago. It makes me miserable..."

"Yeah well, that's not gonna happen this time OK? I won't let it."

"Well, what if my dad..."

"Your dad what?" Dennis questions, unable to stop that sexy little smirk appearing in the corner of his mouth. "Hates my guts?"

"Nobody could hate you baby..."

"So why are you so nervous huh? You know it doesn't really matter to me."

I sigh gently. "Yes it does. Doesn't need to though cos I'm gonna marry you anyway. I just wish he'd said more y'know, said he was happy for us? Chrissie was brilliant and Vicki... she hasn't shut up."

"I had noticed."

"But... Dad..."

"Well I can kinda see where he's coming from you know. He probably thinks I've been keeping you away all this time. And your dad's missed a lot of that hasn't he? He hadn't been back long when you came to the States had he?"

I shrug as I consider it. "Few months."

"Exactly." Dennis breathes, tenderly stroking strands of my hair away from my face. "And he had years to make up to you, you're his little girl."

I throw him a doubtful look. "I'm nearly thirty-seven Dennis..."

His smile widens as he glances down, playing with my hand. "OK... but how old were you when he left? Twenty, right, give or take a few months? That's pretty young Sharon and if your dad's anything like you say he is, he was probably still kidding himself you looked the other way when lads gave you the eye. Daddy's little Princess, still all sweet and innocent..."

"Right... and you think that's how I wanted him to think of me when he resurfaced fourteen years later? He needs to accept I've grown up. I can't be his little Princess forever can I?"

"Why not? You're never gonna stop being his daughter are ya?"

"No, of course not. But you should know better than to encourage him cos you're the one that'll suffer."

"Oh no, don't tell me he thinks you're saving yourself."

"No. Wouldn't work. I've been married before. But still... we could always try."

And I think I fall in love with how indignant my darlin' looks at the very suggestion. I giggle gently.

"Hmmm... then you best hope he's got a lot of stuff to sort down the club hadn't you?"

"Maybe we should offer to do it. I mean, it is still your club right?"

"And what do you know about tax returns, Dennis?"

His lips flicker suggestively. "As much as you know about resisting temptation."

Kissing him quickly, indeed unable to resist it anymore I love him so damn much, I can't help but laugh again as I set about unravelling the foil from a mini bottle of champagne that unfortunately for my fiancé is mine, all mine.

"Oh right, so do you reckon you'll be able to fit in meeting my family before we just have to go christen my office?"

Teasingly, the bastard muses over it. "Yeah, I think so. Vicki seems cool..."

I kinda get what Sharon means about the Square by the time we reach there mind. I suppose what with living in Miami for two and a bit years, I've forced myself to forget what London's really like. I mean, it's June for God's sake and the clouds are still the nastiest, darkening shades of grey, hanging overhead with seemingly little more purpose than to threaten the worst. And it seems really cold too. I think I miss home already. Yeah, see, I've never really managed to call anywhere but Miami my home. I'm like Sharon, I was never happy here either. But that's cos I got myself into some right messes, right up until the second I watched them sling my mother's worthless carcas into the ground actually. 

I try not to tell Sharon too much of what went on with me before we met, because I'm not proud of a lot of the stuff I'd have to repeat. She doesn't know much past the fact that I spent most of my childhood in care, got in with a bad crowd when I was a teenager. Sometimes I wonder what she thinks "bad" means. Cos as much as I love her, from what's she told me; apart from how it was obviously rough the way her mum drank, her dad womanised and the two inevitably clashed with her stuck in the middle; she's had a pretty sheltered life. 

Past having her heart broken a few times by worthless bastards that were never gonna deserve her, she doesn't really know how ugly this world is. And I wanna protect her from it cos I've seen it first hand. I lived it and it was nasty. Maybe that's one of the things I love about her so much. She could see the truth if she wanted to, but she chooses instead to see good everywhere. I guess that's how we've held strong for so long. She's headstrong, and when people around us have said we weren't gonna last (too different they said, but hey, what the Hell do they know?) she made a point of... well, I'm not sure what. All I know is I've never been happier than being with her - even when work forces me all over the place. It's kinda good to miss her, cos I sorta know I'm gonna love her twice as much when I get to head home to her.

But I'm like her too cos the past is never far from my head. Cos all it ever does is make me doubt everything I have. Cos I know I'm one of those worthless bastards that'll never deserve her too. I tell her that often enough. But she just smiles that kissable smile and says she doesn't care, as long as we're together. But that's the thing. I think she would care if she knew. Which is why I've never dared to tell her. I've let her carry on thinking I probably went on a couple of joyrides, maybe sold a few LSD tabs to the third years of the local comp. But Jesus Christ, how tame that all is in comparison to the bastard truth.

So I understand why she doesn't really wanna come back to Walford, why the two of us have never made this journey before now. Because it is a different life. We've both changed so much since we've been together. And not that I can make myself believe that Sharon ever needed to change for the better, but... I know I have. I'd hate to be without her, even just imagining it makes me nervous. She really is everything to me right now. It's why I asked her to marry me. 

I'll never forget the look on her face. She couldn't form words to answer me for a good few minutes cos she couldn't quite work out whether I was taking the piss or not. Fair enough I suppose, I don't think I was really all that sure myself. And if she'd knocked me back, I don't think it woulda been that hard to laugh it off. I didn't have a ring or anything. It wasn't pre-meditated. I was just looking at her thinking how much I wanted her forever and it just... came out. Me, perhaps the person with the least understanding of committment in the world, actually proposing.

And it came good in the end didn't it? Cos whatever either of us think of where we are, we're here for a reason. To flaunt the fact we're engaged - actually gonna get married. Wow.

Sharon and me clamber out and God... I'm so not over the sight of her with a holdall slug across her shoulder. It's adorable, cos she's so damn little and it's the most unnatural image ever and yet she can really handle it, just cos she's beautifully stubborn like that. I seriously love this woman. And I get that fluttering of nerves I know has been attacking Sharon viciously since the second we left our place, cos... God, I really hope her old man can appreciate that. I mean... I'm gonna marry her whatever, but despite what she says about needing to escape her dad's misguided interpretations of her, I know his opinion matters to her, perhaps more than anyone else's.

"Hey..." I murmur, stepping up to join her on the kerb, sliding my arm across her shoulder and drawing her in so I can kiss her crown. "...you sure you're ready for this?"

Her glossy lips thin as she mulls it over just for a second, Sharon nods. "Let's just be happy, eh?"

I grin as I draw back. She knows I don't want it any other way.

I've barely straightened up the case (that's got my stuff and the countless pairs of shoes Sharon couldn't make herself leave behind "just in case"!) against the pillar at the bottom of the stairwell when the blinds in the window definitely flicker. I look round to Sharon, who looks anxious at having seen it too. Here it comes then.

Two seconds later, the front door crashes open and the one and only Vicki squeals; "Oh my God, you're here!" 

She bounds down the stairs like an adorable puppy that's been kept housebound for weeks. She almost throws Sharon off balance thanks to the enthusiasm with which she launches herself at her, throwing her arms tight around her big sister's neck - and that's no mean feat given that Sharon's got a few stone in luggage weighing down one shoulder!

"Er, hi Vicki!" she laughs, shifting awkwardly to accomodate hugging her little sister close.

"Oh my God, oh my God, this is fantastic!" And Vicki spun round with the cutest grin ever, mischievous sparkling wildly as they settled on me. "At last - the man himself! Great Dennis, only took you two years, didn't it?"

"Uh yeah... sorry about that."

Vicki waved her hand dismissively. "Don't be. This place is miserable. I wouldn't leave Miami either. But, ahhhh!" And she bounced a few inches of the ground in one hyperactive leap of excitement. "Engaged, I can't believe it... can I hug you?"

As randomly as the request was spoken, I had no problem with granting it. As I shrugged my shoulders in indifference, her smile rose to not far off her ears and she leapt forward to me too to throw her arms round me. It was pretty hard to breathe after a few seconds, but I guess this has been a long time coming. As future sister-in-laws go, I've decided mine's pretty sweet.

She took up both my hands, striding backwards to lead me up into the house. She's up on the first step when Sharon clears her throat pointedly, coming over to press her hand over mine. Vicki's hands drop away immediately, a smirk springing up as she says; "Sorry." She picks up the case, wincing a little at its bulk. I can't help but instinctively bolt forward to help her.

"Here, let m-"

But she yelps in protest before I can even finish the bloody sentence.

"No chance." she tells me commandingly, looking at Sharon. "You don't walk in there looking suitably loved up with my sister here, our step-mum'll kill me!"

"Ignore her baby." Sharon laughs gently, locking her hand fiercely through mine again, stepping in front of me to lead the way up. We reach the top, the front door swinging rather menancingly in my opinion and Sharon turns round and presses her lips lovingly to mine, whispering; "If they don't love you, they're even crazier than she is..." And, arching her eyebrow pointedly, she glances back at Vicki, seriously struggling with the case.

"Poor kid." I observe sympathetically.

"She offered." Sharon shrugs. "Vicki never offers to do anything, so I'm guessing she likes you. We're doing alright..."

"You mean we will be til Vicki gets a hernia!"

"Don't worry. My dad has to forgive you - you're my darlin'."

The nerves fizzle away happily at that. I just keep hold of her hand and go through. But for all the madness Vicki tore down with, the whole place seems calm and very empty. I think I might have been expecting Sharon's dad and her step-mum to be barricading the chest, arms folded sternly and lips set so they might disapprove of me at the very first opportunity. But, no, the stairs are clear. You can see through to the kitchen from the doorway and that's empty too.

Looking pretty perplexed, Sharon leads me off to the side and into the lounge, dropping my hand only to pull her bag off and let it drop heavily onto the floor.

"Ooooh!"

She swings my hand gently as she steps over her bag, heading towards the two glasses brimming with champagne, the remainder of the bottle stood in between, the smoky vapours still coming from the mouth of the bottle that says it's barely been open a minute. Why do I have this horrible feeling that Den & Chrissie are hid behind the sofa or something?

"Reckon that's for us?"

She grins naughtily as she leans forward to pick one up, perching on the edge of the sofa. "If it wasn't, it is now!"

I love how shameless she is, shaking my head in humoured disbelief as I step over to her, taking the other glass as she offers it up to me and sinking back on the arm of the sofa, my arm wound easily across her shoulders.

"To you, darlin'..."

"Just me eh?" I tease. "What about us?"

She smirks. "Alright then... us." The glasses clink softly together and Sharon hesitates in raising the glass to her lips, still gazing intently at me. "I love you..."

"Well that helps y'know, cos I'm pretty mad about you an' all."

She smiles, but again, the bubbles have barely touched her lips when;

"Vicki babe, what are you... oh my God, is that Sharon's?"

"Dennis'..."

"They're here? Babe, why didn't you shout us? Sharon?!"

"Here we go..." she murmurs omniously, that smirk reappearing in the corner of her mouth as she looks at me. She turns towards the door just in time to see Chrissie crash through. "Hi Chrissie..."

Chrissie gasps in wonderment, her hands (with fingernails as immaculate as Sharon's, it has to be said!) flying to cover her nose and mouth. "Oh.. oh Sharon, look at you... babe, you look amazing... oh c'mere!"

She half stumbles over Sharon's bag but recovers enough to come forward, Sharon pushing herself up from the sofa and putting down her champagne, moving past me to go round the edge of the table and put her arms out towards her step-mum, the both of them wrapping the other into a very tight hug.

"Oh... why d'you stay away so long?"

"Well... I've been busy haven't I?"

"Mmmm, so I can see." Chrissie muses as they break apart and her gaze falls pointedly to me. "God, all those photos have not done you justice..."

Feeling the laughter coming, I quickly swallow down the champagne, leaning forward to leave my glass next to Sharon's. "Thanks Chrissie."

"Oh, you're more than welcome babe. Now, Sharon, you gonna introduce us?"

"OK..." Sharon says slowly, giving her an odd look. "Well... Dennis, this is my dad's wife, Chrissie, and Chrissie..." I can see the excitement in Sharon's gorgeous eyes as she glances over at me. I swear she rises a couple more inches, stretching happily up onto her toes. "...this is Dennis!"

"Well it's-" I get up and Chrissie leans forward to kiss my cheek. "-brilliant to meet you at last, Dennis. Don't be a stranger, OK? You're family now."

Sharon seems to stiffen a little even as she nestles into me, her arms looped around my waist. "Speaking of which... where's Dad?"

"Oh, ummm, he's..."

"Here I am, Princess."

Not even I can quite gauge whether her gasp is one of happiness or... fright as we look round to find Vicki has only just managed to dive into the room ahead of her dad, indeed stood looking stern and omnious in the doorway. Alright Rickman, don't panic...

"Dad!"

He nods solemnly as he moves into the room with the rest of us. His face obviously softens as he looks at Sharon. Anyone could see how much he loves her, adores her, and she's been gone from this place for three years. He's obviously missed her like mad.

"Doesn't your old man get a hug?"

She beams and rushes over. He looks relieved to hold her.

I wonder if it's just me that notices how she's tremoring as she draws back, holding fiercely onto his hand as she turns to face the rest of us, drawing in one shallow and anxious sounding breath as her gaze settles on me.

"Dad... this is Dennis, my fiancé... oh God, I've been waiting to say that all day..."

Chrissie and Vicki giggle. But Den barely manages to raise a smile. Yeah, I'm definitely nervous. Getting the feeling I'm wordlessly being given the once over. And the worse thing is, I don't think anyone, anywhere could ever be good enough. But maybe that's just cos I'm stealing his Princess away. That's gotta hurt enough on its own right?

"And Dennis... this is my dad..."

She steps away, looking between us both, obviously waiting on some sort of reaction to our introduction.

I smile, extend my hand, hoping how sick I feel inside isn't showing through, that the damn thing won't shake. Nope, so far so good. 

"Great to meet you, Den..."

At least it would be if I didn't get the feeling that Den's eyes were so damn cold, so determined to hate me. But that look passes in a second, and I almost jolt in surprise as I find Den's hand pressed into mine, pumping it firmly.

"You too son. You too."

The five of us finished the champagne quickly enough. Dad had said he wanted to know everything it was possible to know about Dennis pretty much before he'd even sat down with us. I tried to make him ease off, but Dad just shrugged and said he had a right to know all about the man set to marry his daughter, and Dennis squeezed my hand and said he understood. But still, as the bottle was drained, Chrissie gave him an omnious look and said he better settle himself in for the interrogation. Then she suggested that maybe we needed a round of coffee to balance out the smidgeons of alcohol and I leapt at the chance to make it myself, pulling Dennis up too and disappearing into the kitchen before any of them could protest.

It's only as I close the kitchen door behind the two of us that I dare to breathe, smiling nervously at him before I go over, stretching up to wrap my arms around his neck and tenderly pressing his mouth, enjoying the sweet taste of his lips.

"I'm sorry baby..."

"What for?"

"My dad. I kinda knew he'd be like this but... you deserve better than Twenty Questions."

"Shut up." he scoffs gently. "Your dad just knows what we all know. I don't deserve you. And that ain't reason enough to steal away a man's daughter."

I hit him playfully across the chest. "Will you shut up going on about that? I'm not just his daughter. I'm Vicki's sister, and she loves you. And I'm your fiancée, so I love you. And that means just as much."

 "Exactly! So I can deal OK? As long as he doesn't wanna know how many relationships I've had simultaneously or how old I was when I lost my virginity, we'll be fine..."

I pull back, tilting my head and giving him a quizzical look. "How old were you?"

"Ah!" he grins. "I love it. We've been together two years and you've never thought to ask me that question..."

"Dennis!"

"We're supposed to be making the coffee..."

He turns pointedly towards the kettle, but I pull him back. "It can wait..."

And to illustrate exactly why it can wait, I stretch up and bruise his mouth, less tender now, more fierce, in anxious need of his response. It comes almost immediately and I am lost to him, his closeness, his passion, his taste, everything.

"Ahem!"

We spring apart in alarm, and I can feel colour creeping guiltily into my face as I whirl round, laughing nervously in relief as we see Vicki with her head poked round the door.

"Oh God... Vicki, don't do that to me - I thought you were Dad..."

"Yeah well... I don't mean to freak you out or anything but... Dad just got the photo albums out for Dennis..."

I gasp in horror. "No!"

But Dennis just laughs. "Oh brilliant!" I glare at him but his smirk does not waiver. "Sharon, don't look at me like that. It's like the law. I can't marry you til I've seen at least one picture of you when you were little, naked on the potty!"

Vicki smirks. "Don't you believe it. I think he's doing it so you won't marry her at all! Her hair in the Eighties? Crime against fashion that was!"

"Vicki!" I hiss out warningly from between my teeth. "Make Dad put them away."

But Dennis steps out around me. "Don't you dare, Vicks. I wanna see these!" And she grins just as wickedly as he does as she takes his hand and pulls him back towards the lounge. Taking a second to groan outwardly, I follow. Dad looks up from the mountain of photo albums he's creating on the coffee table.

"What, no coffee, Princess?"

I scowl. "You think I'm gonna stay in there making coffee whilst I'm being publicly humiliated in here, Dad?"

He rolls his eyes. "Don't be so dramatic."

"I'm serious!" I protest, clambering over every obstruction to place myself strategically on Dennis' lap, nestling down against his shoulder and pouting shamelessly. "If he calls off our wedding cos of this, I won't ever forgive you!"

"Honestly Vicki-" Dennis questions with a smirk as he strokes gently through my hair to placate me. "-how bad was this perm?"

"Oh shut up!" I snap, "It's alright for you. You rolled up in Miami without a single photo, you don't have to suffer this shame!"

"So where were you before that, Dennis?" Chrissie questions, leaning past Vicki to meet his eye.

He shrugs. "All over the place really. It's weird though cos my mum used to live round here..."

"Really?"

"Mmmm."

"She know about this wedding yet then?"

I feel a pang of sympathy for my darlin' as he answers. His mother, from the little he's told me, was not the most maternal of people. He finds it really hard to talk about her at any length without getting angry or worse, upset, and I really don't want either to happen here. But he seems pretty relieved to be able to say;

"Er, no. She died three years ago."

Chrissie's face falls. "Oh babe, I'm sorry, I..."

"Don't worry about it. It all worked out in the end di'n't it?" My stomach flutters as he smiles lovingly at me and I straighten up to kiss him, loving how it makes Vicki and Chrissie coo.

"Awwww, they're so sweet..."

But Dennis just smirks as he draws back, looking over at my dad. "C'mon then Den, where we starting?"

And I suppose it's nice they all had a great laugh at my expense. I spent most of my time as albums got passed eagerly round for every shameful print, nestled into the crook of Dennis' neck, mumbling my every protest, loving the feel of his pulse reverberating against my lips.

"Oh no... stop, please!"

"Baby, what the Hell are you doing there?" Dennis laughs, apparantly not having heard me at all, the bastard, and instead pointing to a photo that was taken when Vicki was about nine months old. We'd been trying to make her smile for the camera so I'd been making loads of stupid noises in her ear to make her laugh. Except at the point Michelle took the photo, my mouth's hanging open in horror, as if I'm terrified by the thought of having a baby in my lap.

"Vicki wouldn't smile..."

Hearing her name, my sister leans over inquisitively and then recoils in horror. "Hey, no! No-one said we'd be getting started on my baby photos! That's not fair!"

"Awww no, you're cute!" Dennis assures her. "I get what you mean about the hair too..."

She smirks smugly at me as I make a move to hit him again, cheeky bastard. He hands her the album, ready to start devouring the next one as Chrissie hands it over.

He flips idly through the first side and then looks over at Dad to ask; "So where are the really embarrassing ones of Sharon running naked round the Square when she was little then?"

Dad returns a reproachful look. He obviously thinks I've agreed to marry a pervert then and at the moment, I'm inclined to agree with him.

"Sharon had grown out of all that by the time she came to Walford. Almost three weren't you, Princess? Walking tall and babbling enough to give your mum a run for her money!"

"Awww, you sound adorable..." Dennis teases warmly against my ear.

"Vicki, grab that album from Dennis, will ya?" 

Vicki pulls herself up and does as she is told, taking the album from Dennis and instead passing him the one Dad offers her in exchange for it.

"Those are the earliest snaps we have of our Sharon there, Dennis..."

"Oh right." I snuggle down against him as he lifts the cover. And my God, I look so damn small I can barely believe it. For every page he turns, photos of me dressed up as a Princess, a fairy and then back again, or having tea parties with Chelle and our dollies popping up everywhere, he tells me how cute I am. But he's about two-thirds of the way through when the compliments dry up in the place of his own surprise.

"Oh my God..."

"What is it baby?" I murmur, straightening up in concern.

I notice his hands are tremoring slightly as he points to a photograph of me cuddled into the babysitter I had pretty much as soon as I came to live in The Vic.

"Mum!"

I laugh nervously. "What?"

"I'm not kidding ya, that's my mum!"

Dad throws him an odd look. "What you blabbering about?"

Inching awkwardly onto his hip as I sit curled up against him, he pulls out his wallet, flips it open and withdraws a scrap of photograph. "That is my mum, look!"

I do. And I see how right he is. It's pretty obvious a fair few years passed between the photo in the album and the one I hold, but it is her, undoubtedly.

"Oh my God! Dad, you never said you knew Paula!"

If it was possible, I'd say he looks irritated. He gets up from the chair and comes over, taking up the album and Dennis' photo to compare 'em. With a non-commital grunt, he delivers them both back across mine & Dennis' laps.

"Oh... yeah. Earned herself a few extra quid looking after you when it got busy in the bar, Princess."

"For how long?"

"Eh?"

"Well... Dennis is almost five years younger than me right, and I came to The Vic when I was three. Was she still babysitting me when Dennis was born?" I can't help but grin as I look back at my fiancé and observe; "We mighta been playmates baby."

"Oh no Den, you didn't make a pregnant woman tear after a four year old did you?" Chrissie looks at him reproachfully.

He just rolls his eyes and turns away. Dennis leans forward to shake his head in Chrissie's direction.

"He couldn't have done, don't worry. Apparantly her parents shipped out before I was born."

Vicki's face falls in confusion. "Why?"

Dennis claws back his lip and I worry that it's all getting a bit too close to the bone for him. Surprisingly however, he answers her willingly.

"My mum was only seventeen when I was born, Vicks."

"Yeah?" she returns, glaring pointedly at Dad. "So was mine."

"Really?"

"Yeah, so it ain't only Sharon you've got stuff in common with is it?"

He laughs gently. "No, I guess not. But your grandparents only live across the road right, still love you and your Mum. Mine were disgusted, specially as she never told anyone who the dad was. Including me."

"What, so you still don't know...?" Chrissie looks just as astounded as Vicki. 

But Dennis just shrugs. "Can't say I'm all that bothered anymore. I've convinced myself I'm the milkman's baby."

"Must have been a bloody cute milkman..." Vicki mumbles quietly, recoiling in horror as she realises we're all laughing. "Oh my God, I'm sorry, did I say that out loud?"

"Just a bit." Dennis informs her, nodding as she colours desperately.

"Told you she likes you..." I whisper warmly in his ear.

"I'm gonna go get ready now!" Vicki declares shakily, pulling herself up.

"Oh no darlin', don't leave on Dennis' account..."

"We're all leaving on Dennis' account Sharon. Well, and yours."

"Eh?"

I daren't look at Dennis because I just know he's gonna be smirking like mad, thinking we've been left free reign of the house for the night. But I can tell by the way Vicki & Chrissie are smiling that that's definitely not it.

"We've booked a table at Fargos tonight babe." Chrissie informs us, leaning forward. "You know, celebrate the engagement and that?"

"Awww Chrissie, that's lovely but-"

"What, not too shattered are you?"

I wave my hand dismissively. "No, it's not that at all. It's just... I don't think I can be bothered to be dressy tonight. It'd take me too long to find summat in the depths of that bloody bag worth wearing!"

"Oh you liar!" Vicki & Chrissie seem to scold together. "Dennis, will you please tell your fiancée?"

"I have to tell you darlin'..." he whispers obediently to me. "C'mon, we're here now. Can't let 'em down can we?"

"I suppose not." I mumble reluctantly.

"What time d'you need us?"

Chrissie purses her lips thoughtfully. "'Bout half an hour?"

"We can do that can't we, Sharon?"

"Yeah, we can. You go up to my room darlin', I'll gatecrash Vicki's."

"Sure?"

"Mmmm-hmmm, positive."

But it takes me about another half a minute before I can pull myself up from his lap. I don't wanna go. Even as I consider how uncomfortable he must be with me curled up against him, I still wanna stay. Still, I get up and drag my bag up off the floor. Seriously, I'm not looking forward to going through this thing, it's so damn big I could probably fit in it myself. It's gonna take me an age to find anything for tonight. Still, it'll be nice. My family and my fiancé together for the first time.

"Love you..." I whisper as I move from the room. 

Dennis just grins and tells me; "Go already. You've only got half an hour Sharon, and I know you..."

And I love that he does. He knows me better than anyone and somehow I can still feel safe like that. I trust him completely, and seeing that the family love him too, I know we're gonna be really happy for a long, long time.

So even with the weight of my bag against my shoulder, I'm practically skipping my way up the stairs, the hugest smile on my face as I go across the landing, knocking on Vicki's door, God knows what kinda music pounding through the walls.

"It's Sharon darlin'..."

There's a crash, like she might have just collided with her wardrobe or something and in the next few seconds, the volume of the music drops so dramatically I can barely hear it.

"Come in!"

I open the door and move across to offload my bag on her bed. "Hi." I say quietly. "Don't s'pose I can get changed in here can I? Dennis is in my old room..."

"What?" Vicki smirks, taking her emerald green gypsy skirt off the hanger and pulling it over her head before leaning forward and pushing her jeans roughly down. "And you didn't fancy joining him?"

"Oh, but I can't risk it can I darlin'? Me and Dennis left alone together in a room, having to take our clothes off? Well that just means we'd end up having rampant sex against the wall and then... well, then we'd never make this reservation would we eh?"

"You are one lucky bitch!"

"I know." I assure her smugly as I unzip the bag. "Still don't know what I'm supposed to wear though!"

"Yeah right!" she scoffs, tying the back of her halterneck. "Your bloody wardrobe is like 60% label! Here, let's have a look." 

And she rifles right down to the bottom of the bag, throwing out everything that gets in the way carelessly out onto the bed. 

Then she reaches my claret mini-dress and gasps apparantly as she lifts it carefully up. "This is gorgeous."

"Yeah, and you can forget that thought right now!" I tell her firmly, tugging it out her hands. "I don't even know if it fits me anymore."

But Vicki simply places her hands on her hips, cocking her eyebrow to challenge me as only she can. "Only one way to find out."

Rolling my eyes, I go ahead and change into it, just to prove my point. I've kicked my boots off and so am stood in front of Vicki's mirror looking very short and...

"I look fat..."

"Bollocks do you! You look incredible."

"Vicki, I feel like my boobs are about to rebel."

"Yeah, just be grateful you have boobs eh?"

"You really think I can get away with this?"

"Uh, yes! You don't get your legs out half as much as you should, Sharon!"

"Ha, they're never away in Miami. Dennis shouts at me when I try and get my jeans out."

Vicki grins. "See, I knew that guy was good for you." And murmuring to herself, she keeps going through the bag looking for shoes on my behalf, her own deep green sequinned flatties thrown down on the dresser.

"Oh, he is, Vicki, really. He's just... the best thing... I dunno what I'd do without him."

"Well it's a good job he wants to marry you then i'n't it? Not that I know why after some of those photos!"

"Cheers!" I say dangerously, lifting one of the heels she passes me to mock striking her. I daren't though. These shoes were £120 from what I remember and the only pair I own that match the dress so perfectly. I lift each foot and pull the shoes on, but as I turn round and catch sight of myself in the mirror as Vicki slicks on her lip gloss, I scream in frustration.

"I don't know how any of you can expect me to be ready in half a fuckin' hour! What am I supposed to do with my hair?!"

"Oh... sit down!" Vicki despairs as, having fastened some funkehh turquoise hoops into her ears. she throws her shoes down onto the floor and steps into them, gesturing for me to sit down on the little stool in front of her dresser. Then she steps up behind me and loosens my hair from its clip, letting it all tumble around my shoulders. Then she reaches in her drawer and slams the plug of her curling tongs into a strategically placed socket on the wall, concentrating on brushing my hair through for me, spritzing it occassionally with the sweetest smelling serums. When the tongs are hot enough, she sets about wrapping up sections of my hair into corkscrew curls. Just seeing the look of it come alive in the mirror as she works skillfully away, I start to relax. It doesn't take her any time at all. My hair's still hot when she's covering it in hairspray to hold every curl. Never mind that she practically chokes me with the fumes though - it looks fantastic!

"Oh Vicki..."

She grins, stooping to wrap her arms round my neck and nestle into my shoulder, admiring our collective reflection in the mirror.

"Are you happy Sharon?"

"Course I am. It's wonderful."

"I don't just mean your hair you daft cow, I mean, with Dennis and that?"

"So happy darlin'." I assure her certainly, stroking up her arm.

"Well, that's good enough for me. C'mon, hurry up and do your make-up, Dad's gonna kill me if we're late."

I laugh gently and do as I'm told, applying my make-up almost before Vicki's handed me the little bag crammed with the stuff. Thankfully, it doesn't take me very long and I'm up and ready to go, even if I am feeling nervous for some totally unexplainable reason. Vicki offers me the crook of her arm and I weave my hand through.

"We're ready!" she calls down as we go across the landing together, heading for the top of the stairs.

"About bloody time!" Dad calls back gruffly from the hall.

I can't help but giggle as we hear Chrissie reproach him, hissing; "Den!"

And Dennis is still directing his soundless laughter at the floor and fiddling with his cuff as me and Vicki make our way down. He's adorable. You know like some people play with their hair or bite their nails when they're nervous? Dennis will play with his cuff. He will unbutton and rebutton the damn thing fifty times if he needs to. But Vicki and I seem to capture his attention. And I know, somehow, that with Vicki's help, I've gotten everything right, in just the way his eyes shimmer in amazement. And if we can still do that to one another after so long together, then I'd say we're gonna be alright.

"Hello you." I murmur affectionately, lifting his hand from where it's curled against the banister and slip my fingers through his.

"Wow." is his only reply. I see Chrissie grin across at Dad out the corner of my eye and I'm sure I see a smile flitter across his lips as he looks down at the floor, asking;

"We off then?"

Vicki bounces off the last step, having claimed back her arm and instead going to weave it through Chrissie's.

Me and Dennis let them all move off from us, for the moment happy enough across the stairs from one another, touching so innocently.

"Really, you look..."

I smirk knowingly. "Yep. Just if I have... wardrobe malfunction at all... please don't leave it to my Dad to tell me over the coffee eh?"

He grins and lifts our clasped hands away from the banister to guide me off the stairs. 

I love how instinctive it is for us to let our arms surround each other as soon as we are close. I stretch up to kiss him fleetingly.

"And you look pretty gorgeous too since you were asking..."

"I wasn't-"

"No? Then maybe I just needed to tell ya..."

It's weird being in a place like Fargo's. I mean, it's a nice place and everything, really nice. It's just, you don't get places like this is Miami. It's too flambuoyant over there. You don't just get restaurants, they've all got their own theme, so you've gotta be pretty decided as to what you're after. Unless of course you just wanna head into one of the thousands of fast food places, but I got sick of doing that after I'd been in Miami about six weeks, and it's never been Sharon's thing, thank God. You know what they say, you can take the girl out of London, but you can't take London out the girl. When Sharon gets really drunk and can't walk straight along a kerb, she'll always demand a kebab. I've tried telling her that that pretty much amounts to chewing off an elephant's leg, but nothing much gets through to Sharon when she's drunk if she doesn't wanna hear it. She much prefers being reminded how much I love her, so I guess we're both lucky cos whether she's drunk or not, I never need prompting. 

But anyway.... Fargo's. Yeah, it's nice. Vicki told me it's been here years, but Sharon's looking round, appreciating everything she sees. Flash is a lot different here than it is back home. I don't think having dinner on a London rooftop would have the same effect as Miami does. The sun never seems to go in, whereas here, it don't look like it ever comes out. But I can deal with that cos Sharon's here and I happen to really like her family as well. So we must be doing alright.

Den made a point of ordering more champagne for us all, which felt like a good sign, even if I'm not all that mad on the stuff myself. Shows he thinks we're celebrating.

"Have one for your mum shall we Princess?"

Sharon smiles, but then looks apologetically over at Chrissie, who smiles back and waves her hand dismissively. "It's a shame she couldn't be here babe."

"Yeah I know." Sharon says sadly, grateful for Chrissie's understanding. "And I know I'm lucky cos I have all of you; it's just... I really think she'd have loved all this... don't you Dad?"

Lacing his hands together and raising them to just below his chin, Den nods. "She would Princess. Any excuse for a knees-up with Ange eh?"

"Any excuse?" Vicki splutters indignantly. "Her only daughter getting married? I reckon she'd have shouted it from the roof-tops."

"If there'd been a bottle of gin up there for the taking, I expect so darlin', yes."

Vicki scowls and fiddles with the edge of the menu.

Sharon gets anxious, tugging at the charms on her bracelet so I reach over to take her hand. She squeezes mine gratefully.

"She woulda been happy for us though wouldn't she Dad?"

Not willing to risk a beat of Den's silence, Chrissie speaks up. "Course she would babe, how could she not be? I mean, look at the two of you. And this one's a right charmer i'n't he eh? Angie woulda loved him. And so she should."

Absorbing Chrissie's words, Sharon allows herself to breathe and beams across at me, somehow consoled now.

"Shame about your parents though isn't it, Dennis?"

"Dad..." Sharon hisses, but I squeeze her hand, gentler this time, to let her know that it's OK. I don't have a problem with telling it as it is.

"Not really Den. I'm not sure either of them were worth knowing."

Chrissie's face shifts into an expression of sympathy, and that's nice of her and everything, but I don't need it do I? Cos it's her that's wants to believe I'm simply being harsh, not that I'm telling the truth as I know I am.

"Oh babe..."

"No, really Chrissie, I mean it. And not to get morbid or anything, cos... meeting you guys means a lot to me but... before I met Sharon, I didn't really know what I was doing here. I never had the relationship with my mum that most kids do. But then I suppose when she all she was looking for was the next bottle of vodka, it can't really have been her fault."

"Sounds like your mum, Princess." Den says brightly and I'm the only one that's humoured by him. I've heard all about poor Angie's issues from Sharon, and yeah, I've noticed the similarities myself.

Sharon, however, knowing how much I hate talking about my mum, has got thunder in her eyes, her voice low as she really warns him now. "Dad..."

"Nah, it's alright darlin'." I assure her. "I guess she just blamed me for taking up the best years of her life y'know? But I can't help it if I'm what happened when she opened shop to half a bloody junior rugby team. Or maybe it was the whole squad. Dunno, don't care."

"So that's who he is then eh, your old man?" Den questions, straightening up a little and therefore doing a bad job of suppressing his interest. "Some spotty little sod from off the Rec thirty years ago?"

Smirking, I shrug. "Probably. Like I say, she never got a name. But I doubt he's all that spotty anymore. More podgy and balding I expect, whoever he is..."

Vicki snorts out her laughter. Realising what she's done, she looks up at me, stricken, but I just grin. Responses like that make it all seem so much less heavy and it's easier to forget I ever said anything. So I'm grateful to her, cos it diverts the attention, even more so when a waiter appears with an ice bucket in each hand, a bottle of champagne peeking out the top. I've said all I need to and it seems Den's been given all the explanation he needs to hear. Surely all that needs to matter now is that I love his daughter more than anything.

Cos I do and I still will even after I've gotten very, very drunk. Yep, that's my next plan.

Well, almost.

Den's stood up, leaning over the ice buckets, and he's just lifted one bottle up into his hands when the glasses are delivered to the table too, the five tall flutes clinking excitedly together of their own accord it seems.

"Let's get this show on the road then eh?"

And he begins unpicking the foil.

So I clear my throat pointedly. "Ahem!" 

And all their attentions snap to me just in time to see me set the little box on the table next to Sharon's elbow. She feels it brush her skin and flinches before her gaze falls upon it. She doesn't say a word, cos I can tell in her eyes that she'd hardly know what to say even if she did. She just straightens up, staring at it, in terror almost.

Both Chrissie's and Vicki's chairs scrape against the floor as they lean eagerly forward, eyes shimmering like it's Christmas.

"Oh my God-" Chrissie beams. "-is that the...? It is, isn't it?" And she bites back a squeal, covering her nose and mouth with her hands as she waits, as I do, for Sharon to give her reaction.

She's shaking as she takes the box up into her hands, one poised to lift the lid. But shee prefers to torture herself, to torture us all and not do it all, looking at me instead.

"I thought we weren't gonna... not until we got home?"

"Yeah well, that one was a bit of a problem wa'n't it? How was I supposed to expect your family to take me seriously when there's no ring on your finger darlin'?" I reach up to stroke pointedly across the bare fingers of her left hand as they tremor, holding the box. "You can't be engaged without a ring, Sharon... so there it is."

"Oh my God..."

And aside from her quickened breathing, all I can hear is Vicki rocking desperately back and forth on the four legs of her chair. After a few seconds of that, she cries out in exasperation. "Will you just open the bloody box? You're killing me here!"

Sharon giggles gently and at last, exerts the pressure through her fingertips to at least try and open the box. But she's shaking so much she can hardly do it. I've counted away seven agonising seconds when I hear that soft and telling creak, followed by Vicki's shriek of delight and more scraping of Chrissie's chair, that assures me that the box is now open. Sharon is shaking a little less, but she seems to have gone pale and isn't saying a word, her eyes glassy with tears.

My stomach lurches fretfully. Oh God, I've gotten it wrong haven't I?

"Baby... you don't like it then-"

"Shut up!" she says breathily. "How can I not like it, it's gorgeous. I love it! I... oh God..." 

And she's shaking terribly as the force of emotion overpowers her and her very first thought is to set the box carefully on the table before she raises her hand to wipe at her watery eyes with her fingertips.

"Vicki?"

"Mmmm?" she answers distractedly, leaning over to catch her first awestruck glimpse of the ring herself.

"Why the Hell didn't I wear waterproof mascara?"

I can't help but smirk as I catch sight of her blackened fingertips.

"Oh sweetheart!" Chrissie coos from across the table, apparantly sympathetic to Sharon's predicament. "Let the man do his stuff eh?"

Smiling, Sharon nods. "This is mad..."

Chrissie grins. "Kid, this is your life. Gorgeous man right next to you and diamonds in front. Snap it up!"

Sharon leans back in her chair, looking across at me stunned, even as I press my hand over hers. "I can't believe you really wanna do this..."

"Well believe it cos I do. There's only one person that can stop me and for once it ain't you. Just say you'll marry me."

She giggles anxiously behind her hand but slowly lets it drop. "Yeah...yes! A thousand times, yes!" And her shivering hands fly up around her  mouth again, like she can barely believe she said the words. "Oh my God..."

I pull the little box across, carefully tweezing the ring out of the cushion. "I need your hand darlin'..."

She manages to splutter out another laugh as she lays out her hand, hovering in mid-air as she splays her fingers obediently.. I slip my hand underneath hers to steady her, lifting the ring to her finger.

"Den?"

"Yes Dennis?" he asks warmly, as if we've been sat waiting for a bus and I've just troubled him for the time. I wonder whether he's bothered to see any of this.

"Is this OK by you?"

"Would it matter if it wasn't?"

I can't quite work this guy out. He's not attacking me or anything, but just the way he comes out with stuff. He sounds like he's waiting for me to tell him a joke or something.

"Daddy..." Sharon warns him, with the look to go with it.

"Well Princess, this is the 21st century, he don't need my permission anymore."

"Neither do I!" she points out indignantly and he nods solemnly to accept her point.

"No Den, I don't need it. But for Sharon's sake, I'd really like it..."

"Ah..." he breathes approvingly. "...you've got class Dennis, I like it. Means a lot to me you're asking, not just taking. I respect you for that."

"So?" Vicki prompts anxiously, by the look of her literally itching to see me slide the ring up Sharon's finger.

"So..." His gaze does not waiver from mine and nerves writhe readily on the floor of my stomach. I'm pretty sure my hand's sweating against Sharon's. But then, Den tilts his head forward and says; "My permission's all yours, lad. Do what you want with it. Knock yourself out."

I grin, begin to shake too as the ring reaches its rightful place on Sharon's third finger. And God, it looks so good.

I'll settle for just marryin' Sharon, thanks Den.

I can't remember much of the meal besides the champagne - I kept picking my glass up again and again, just to catch sight of the ring sat on my finger. I've just about stopped shaking with excitement by the time we've all finished up, and I decide I want my fiancé to check out my club at last. My left hand is clasped into his as we walk, and he keeps stroking his thumb across the surface of the diamonds, which gives me even more opportunity to beam down on it.

"I love you so much."

Dennis smirks, squeezing my hand gently. "If you didn't by now, I'd wanna know why not."

I let my gaze drop back down to the ring. "This is the most gorgeous... well, the second most gorgeous thing I've ever seen in my life. It musta cost you the earth."

He tilts his head up laughing as he pulls me closer against him. "How did I know you'd start digging to find that out, Sharon eh?"

"Tell me..." I plead sweetly.

"He doesn't need to." Chrissie says brightly, leaning in from behind us. "It's supposed to be a month's wages..."

I gasp. "Tell me you didn't?!"

He laughs gently. "You just worked out what I make in a month then baby?"

"Dennis, that's insane."

"Why?" Vicki questions, frowning a little, as she steps round to level her pace with us. "What d'you do these days?"

"Same old, Vicks, only these days I've got the title to go with it cos my boss sends me all over state to sort out the minions, the arse."

"So what's this title of yours earn you then?"

"Oh my God, Chrissie, you can't just ask that!"

"Pffft, like you wouldn't have been asking it five seconds from now, Vicki."

"Just under forty thousand. Boss reckons I'll hit that when the chain expands across Georgia and Alabama."

I press my hand into his chest to slow him up. "I've already told you, you are not crossing states!"

"Uh-oh..." Chrissie says omniously out the side of her mouth to Vicki. "...think we better catch your dad up, babe, c'mon..." And off they go. Leaving just Dennis and me, stood there in silence, eyes locked in battle. And I hate that I'm swallowing down dry sobs.

"You're not doing it." I say stiffly, shaking my head. "You're not."

"Sharon..."

"I mean it. Dennis, we hardly get to see each other as it is!"

"Hey, listen to me, now isn't the time alright?"

I scowl. "Don't patronise me."

He sighs, looking away for a moment to compose himself, ie, not blow his top with me. "Sharon, for God's sake, it hasn't even happened yet! Nate says it could be years, so just stop OK? We're supposed to be enjoying tonight."

I bite guiltily at my lip, staring at the ground. He knows how stubborn I am. Can't say sorry even I should.

But he's not angry with me. He just slides his warm fingertips beneath my chin and tilts my head up, so I'm pulled forward into thiose smouldering eyes. Then he bows his head and kisses me softly, making my stomach flip.

"I love you..."

"I don't know why sometimes..." I confess in spite of myself.

"Yes you do. Now c'mon, you showing me this club or what?"

We round the corner by the community centre just in time to see Ric on the door pulling the ropes across to admit Dad, Chrissie & Vicki ahead of the protesting crowds.

"If you don't approve of my security measures, take it up with Dad. I've had nothing to do with the running of this place for three years!"

He laughs gently, nodding. "Got it."

"Hiya Ric!"

He straightens up in surprise as I head towards him. "Boss! Where you been?"

"Ah y'know, here and there!" I beam as he leans forward to kiss my cheek. "How's Marisa?"

"Great. Beanie's due any day!"

"She's pregnant? I didn't know that! Damn, no-one ever tells me anything anymore! Congratulations darlin'!"

"You too I hear. Den told me..." His gaze slides to Dennis, who's still smirking like crazy. "This him then?"

I purse my lips thoughtfully, shrugging as I turn. "Nah. Found him on the corner. Thought he looked cute, what d'you reckon? One last fling before I settle down an' all that?" Looking indignant, the flat of Dennis' hand lands forcefully in the small of my back and I can't help but start laughing. "Yeah, this is him, Ric. This is Dennis."

"Ah. Alright mate?"

"Hiya."

"He's in your line of work too, so you best watch out. He's gonna know more of Dad's mistakes than I do."

"Understood." he grins, unhooking the rope again.

I lead Dennis down the stairs by the hand.

"Welcome to Angie's Den, baby."

"Wow. I like it!"

"Yeah?"

"Well, there aren't any school kids procreating in the corner, it's brilliant!"

I shove him playfully. "Yeah well, you seriously wanna marry me then it's half yours i'n't it?"

"Don't be stupid. I'm not marrying you cos I wanna get my hands on your club."

"No, I know." I assure him, pushing through the crowds to step up behind the bar, pointedly ignoring all the punters clamouring for a refill. We have bar staff, don't we? Instead I concentrate on fixing Dennis and me measures of vodka, even as I catch sight of Dad taking more champagne to one of the tables, while Vicki & Chrissie refuse to settle back in their seat for looking for the two of us. "But it's a bonus, right?"

"No!" Dennis insists with a laugh, a sheen of vodka glistening on his lips at the first sip. "I wouldn't care whether this place was here or not!"

"No need for a pre-nup then?"

He shrugs. "We can if you want! I don't want any claim on this place Sharon, I just wanna marry you."

"Mmmm-hmmm, and that is exactly why you've got no choice but to take it!" 

Realising Vicki's caught sight of us, I slip my fingers through his again and leave the bar, heading over to the table before she has to get up and bolt across the club.

Dad's pulled another chair across to accommodate the five of us, but as Dennis sits back, I pointedly settle myself across his lap, my arm wound easily around his neck.

"Dad?"

"Yes Princess?"

"Will you please tell Dennis that after the wedding, half of this place is his whether he likes it or not? He doesn't wanna take it."

Chrissie's lips curve into a smirk. "We not good enough for you now Dennis?"

"No, it's not that at all!" he says defensively, playing with one of my curls. "But it's everything Sharon's worked for isn't it? I'd have to have a lot of nerve to walk in here and take half the credit just cos I've married her. It's hers, not mine!"

I lift my hand, waggling my fingers pointedly to draw his attention. "Ah but this, baby, this says I'm yours, so this club is too."

He smiles proudly. "Don't stop doing that will you?"

"What?" I question smugly as he catches my hand, idly caressing my fingers before I pull my hand back and raise my hand to waggle my fingers again. "That?"

"Mmmm-hmmm."

I smile proudly and kiss him again, encouraged by Vicki and Chrissie's synchronised fawning.

"Sharon's right, Dennis." Dad tells at last. "You get married, every asset's split right down the middle and there's sod all you can do it about it. Unless you've got a pre-nup."

"Mmmm!" Chrissie cries approvingly as she scoots forward to unravel the foil around the neck of the champagne bottle, before throwing a dark look in Dad's direction. "I wish we'd done that!"

"I have offered but Sharon..."

"But Sharon..." I cut in, refusing to hear my name blackened. "...doesn't need more than the offer. I know you would darlin', and that's enough OK? I trust you."

"And on that note..." Chrissie grins, before popping the cork and sending froth spewing everywhere as we cheer appreciatively.

She moves the bottle round to all our glasses, filling them to the brim. None of us have taken a single sip before Dad rises. I groan quietly, trying to hide away in the crook of Dennis' neck, pleading; "No big speeches Dad, please..."

"Well, I'm sorry Princess-" he sighs, eyes widened in indignance. "But this is a very proud moment in a man's life. My daughter's getting married, I think I'm entitled to make a show of myself. What d'you say, Dennis?"

I feel him nod, a soft laugh purring in his throat. "Go for it."

"Then I will." Then he sighs. "Oh I don't know Princess, since the second me and Ange brought you home to The Vic, all we ever wanted was to make you happy. What a pig's ear we made of that eh?"

"It wasn't all bad, Dad."

"No, but it was bad enough and neither of us can deny that. I always thought that as your Dad, I'd always know how to make you smile. I admit, I didn't know a thing. And taking off like I did... I knew you'd find your own way in this world because... because I left you no choice, but I always hoped you'd still need your old dad."

"Oh, of course I do."

"But you're all grown up now Sharon. I don't have any control over your happiness anymore. No, I can see you've made it yourself, how happy you and Dennis are. That my darlin', is all I ever wanted for you. And I'll be the proudest father alive on your wedding day, Princess."

"Dad!" I whimper, straightening up against Dennis and laughing weakly. "My mascara!"

"Oh sod your mascara my girl!" he scolds, a smile still upon his lips. "I just want you to know how proud I am of you!" Then his eyes swerve and settle on Dennis, who smiles a little more, very aware of what's coming and somehow, even amused by it. "And I want you to know that you ever do anything to upset my Princess then I'll-"

"-hunt me down and break every miserable bone in my body right? I know Den, Sharon told me that's what you said to the last guy that told you he wanted to marry her!"

"And he was a vicar-" Vicki snorts, laughing. "-I don't think you stand a chance!"

"Uh, excuse me-" I splutter indignantly. "-I think you'll find we stand every chance, thank you!"

"Yeah?" my sister questions smugly, raising her eyebrow. "So what do you two know about planning weddings? Bear in mind that you Sharon, have already got one failed marriage behind you!"

"OK-" I say commandingly, pulling my glass of champagne back as I swallow my mouthful down. "-that is completely off limits alright? Not least cos it was a fuckin' disaster. Your mum could tell ya how many doubts I had about that wedding. But since you're asking, we're not planning this one at all!"

Chrissie's face falls in confusion as she tries to comprehend it. "Well, it's not going to plan itself is it?"

I grin. "That's exactly what it's going to do."

But Vicki yelps in protest. "No! I have told you, you are not getting married in Las Vegas!"

"You want to elope?" Chrissie asks, looking amused as she sips at her drink.

"I'm thinking about it." I tell her, toying with Dennis' hand. "Unfortunately, he isn't."

"I didn't say that! I said I didn't wanna go to Vegas!" 

Vicki settles back looking smug at that. Chrissie, however, isn't satisfied.

"So where are you going?"

"Well... yesterday... Sharon wanted to get married on the beach. You changed your mind since, baby?"

"No..."

"Then that's what we should do."

"Ha." Vicki smirks, pouring herself more champagne. "Your wedding present says it rains..."

"Well then you'll get very wet won't you, darlin'?" I tell her sternly.

"So will you." she teases, poking out her tongue.

"Ah, yeah, but I'll be too married to care, won't I?"

"Ugh, Dennis, are you really sure you wanna be stuck with her til the day you die?"

As I glare at her, Dad tries not to chuckle and Chrissie hisses; "Vicki!"

Dennis is the only one that can humour her. "Definitely." he says without hesitation, and for a second, I adore him more completely than ever. But no. The bastard has to go and ruin it doesn't he? Can't bloody see when he's onto a winner. "I mean, I could get hit by a bus tomorrow!"

And he looks pretty pleased with himself at having humoured Vicki so much.

"Might be me that causes it." I growl warningly against his neck. But he just laughs and keeps playing with my hair.

"Oh c'mon, this is ridiculous." Chrissie looks pointedly at Dad, his glass of champagne still in his hand untouched. "Dennis isn't the only one that's doing the proposing tonight is he, Den? Are we having this toast or what?"

Scuffing the toe of his shoe against the floor, Dad looks down smiling, before he raises his glass and says simply; "Sharon & Dennis."

"Cheers!"

But then I put my glass down and leap up from Dennis' lap, sure I can see tears in my dad's eyes as I throw my arms around him, hugging him tight and whispering in his ear; "I love you, you old fool!"

It wasn't long after that that I let Vicki drag Dennis off into the throng to dance. He is actually a really good dancer, but he admits he never plays on it unless he's looking to pull, and seeing as I'm the one he's been "pulling" for the last two years, he's never actually had to act on it. I have snuck in on him when he's working before now, managed to steal a couple of dances out of him before he really realises I'm there at all. See, my fiancé's so damn good at his job, he gets away with drinking on it. He can tell the slightest bit of trouble at fifty paces and in almost complete darkness even when he's half cut. I call that talent myself. Cos he is, without doubt, the most exciting person I have ever known. I can feel safe with him while only being certain of the uncertain!

So I'm sat, while Dad goes off to tend the bar, aka shout down the uni students he's given shift work to, and tell everyone he serves that I'm now engaged - and yes, they will hear it, whether they like it or not - chatting with Chrissie about the wedding, or the content lack of.

"Sun never goes in in Miami, it'd be perfect!"

"Mmmm, I don't doubt it babe. I just think your dad was hoping he might get to walk you down an aisle this time, y'know?"

"Me? In a church? Ha, next you'll be telling me I should wear white!"

"Well, why not?" she grins. "You've got the figure for it!"

"Yeah, just a shame I haven't got the reputation to go with it eh?"

Eyes glittering mischieviously, they search out Dennis on the crowded floor, a smirk curving her ever glossy lips. "Two years with a man that looks as good as that? I'd be sorry for you if you did, Sharon!"

"Well keep your sympathy!" I inform her proudly, twiddling the ring on my finger. "Cos I don't need it!"

"Good girl!" Chrissie raises her glass to me before taking another deep sip of champagne. "So, a beach wedding then? Lovely! You could get married in your bikini!"

"Oh, steady on Chrissie!" I laugh. "Mind you, I'd get Dennis to leave the shirt at home if I could..."

"Yeah, I can imagine he's well honed... y'know, in his line of work."

"Mmmm, you ain't kidding. And it isn't just work. I mean, you ever sat back and watched a dozen fit guys playing volleyball on the beach? Cos I do most Sundays."

"No!" Then she scowls. "I knew we shoulda made more of an effort to come over and see you."

"Hey, hands off!" I warn, waggling my adorned finger pointedly. "He's spoken for, don't you know?"

"I'm so happy for you babe, you know that?"

"I'm happy for me too!" I giggle into my glass. "Oh I'm sorry Chrissie, thank you."

"You're welcome. And you know, any help you need with the wedding preperations at all... although I've got a nervous feeling you meant it when you said you and Dennis were letting it plan itself."

"We are! We decided... we're applying to the courthouse for a marriage licence as soon as we get home."

Poor Chrissie almost chokes on her mouthful of champagne, barely managing to swallow it down. "That soon?"

I shrug. "Well, yeah, why not? That way it don't matter how or where we do it as long as it's in-state, so no Vegas! We're only here to tell you guys our plans and now you know... now you love him as much as I do. We've been together long enough to know this is what we want, so what are we waiting for? A marriage licence is valid for 90 days from issue, and I figure all we need to do is find the outfits, get a registrar on standby whenever we feel like it and give you guys a few days notice to get cheap flights out. So Dad's gonna lose what little hair he's got left, but at least Dennis and me won't be stressed out. It's our day."

"Oh what, and you can just turn up on a beach and get married can ya?"

"No, you have to give notice to a councillor at the town hall or something. Not sure how much either. But it shouldn't be too hard. On some of the beaches back home they have designated areas for that sort of thing they're so used to it!"

"Great. Except now we're all gonna be jumping outta our skin whenever the phone goes, thinking we'll need to be running round like headless chickens getting ourselves ready in time so we don't miss the big day!"

"Don't be daft, as if I'd let you miss it - I want you to do my hair!"

"Awww, babe!"

I smile broadly as she leans over to peck my cheek. I catch sight of Dennis again as I lean back and sigh appreciatively. Chrissie follows my gaze and smirks.

"If you're seeing what I see, tell me honestly Chrissie, how am I supposed to wait for that?"

"I have no idea..."

I push myself forward, uncrossing my legs and getting up and murmuring to myself smugly; "Exactly. I can't..." as I head through the crowds towards Vicki and Dennis, who impressively, is still dancing and looking incredibly sexy with it. I really thought Vicki woulda scared him off with her choice moves by now. She's always seemed to take it upon herself to create a mosh pit on this floor.

When Dennis sees me stood there watching him, he stops deliberately, the corner of his mouth rising into a smirk and he beckons me forward, knowing exactly what it is I want. Cos this, this is one thing I rarely get at home. And it just so happens the slow song of the night has come to claim us.

"Oh my God Vicki!" I observe in a gasp, perhaps before Dennis and I are even close enough to touch. "You look shattered, darlin'! What d'you need? Water? More champagne?"

She just grins and stumbles, stopping only to gasp in my ear; "Has he got a brother? I love him!"

And I can't but giggle, looping my arms around Dennis' neck, loving the feel of him holding me close, the two of us moving so easily together we don't even have to think about it, which leaves me just thinking how incredible he is.

"What d'you do to her baby?"

"Me to her?" he coughs indignantly. "Yeah right! I am in actual pain here!"

"She likes you y'know."

"Yeah, well good cos I like her. Not as much as her big sister obviously, but she's cute."

"Ooooh, she ain't gonna like that." I muse omniously. "I reckon she's got a crush on you."

"Oh Sharon!"

"What?" I giggle defensively, pressing just a fraction harder into him. "At least it proves she's in her right mind, I mean, why wouldn't she?"

"Cos we're like... related." he insists, grimacing for a moment.

"Ah-ah, we're not married yet. And maybe we won't get that far... maybe Vicki's gonna steal you away!"

"You know what, I think you can afford to take that risk!"

"Yeah?" I murmur, stepping back from him, holding onto his hands fiercely. "C'mon then."

He tilts his head to the side, giving me an odd look. "C'mon where?"

"Just... c'mon!"

Laughing gently, he lets me lead him off, down into the narrow corridor and into the office. The door's locked, but ah! The code still hasn't changed. 2210 - 22nd October... my birthday!

"Since we're so into taking risks, baby..."

"Mmmm?"

The door clicks shut against the pressure I exert as I back up against it. "Need me to lock it again?"

Dennis straightens up from the desk, barely leant against it. "Oh my God, you are actually incredible..."

I smirk proudly as I sashay over to him, propping myself up against his knee and pressing my left hand idly against his chest so my engagement ring is visible to us both. "Well, it was a big thing that happened tonight. We... are officially engaged. And I think we deserve our own celebration..."

"Wanna do the tax return now then eh?"

"That's one word for it, I suppose."

"Here?"

I give him a look that dares him to challenge me. He doesn't. Therefore I know he wants this just as much. Hell, back home, where has never mattered to Dennis and that is one of the best things about him. Ah, I am so happily shallow.

"My office..." I murmur silkily. "My rules..."

"Oh Sharon, you know I never stick to them."

"I was counting on it darlin', now c'mere..."

And I draw him up from the desk, allowing nothing but my touch wandering teasingly across his hips and bum as I pace back across the small room. As my back makes a forceful contact with the door, Dennis winces, but I can't even try and suppress my smirk. God, I want him so badly.

I wedge my knee gently between his and circle my hips quickly so my groin presses against his, feeling his excitement.

"Still don't want me to lock the door? Cos this is your last chance baby."

But he doesn't say a word. All I can hear is how ragged his pattern of breath is quietly becoming and that serves to do nothing but turn me on further, my whole body tingling as his lips press so fleetingly over mine. He takes from my mouth as if he's starved, but refuses to stay long enough to have such a hunger satisified. We'll wind each other up like springs, coil for coil, until we have to let go. 

He pulls in a shallow gasp of a breath as he breaks off from me. But the tingling does not. It spreads and intensifies, because his glittering eyes are not just upon my face. They're travelling all across my body, and if I did not know it by sight I would know it by the way more and more on my skin burns. He's looking, assessing what he wants and more importantly, how he plans to take it. The anticipation of it is the most tantalising, agonising thing of all, and yet I would never be without it.

And so I whisper my confessions of truth like they are the simplest, gentlest thing in the world. "No? Good. Because I have to have you now." 

Dennis blanches at his lip, a breath of a laugh escaping his lips as he looks down, concentrating on the sight of his hand caressing themselves easily between my dampening thighs. "So what happens... if I... wanna take my time hmmm?"

At that last soft syllable, his fingertips graze my expectative clit. I almost lose my balance the wave of pleasure is so damn intense. I could never have believed I needed his touch so much. I really thought I had everything under control tonight. Except Dennis is the one with the control now and...

"Ohhhh..."

And I can feel his smirk pressing against my lips as his mouth covers mine again and again with the most breathless of kisses. He's teasing me, and I want so much to hate him for that because he knows there's nothing I can do to resist him. Damn it, he knows. And I'm shaking so slightly, and that's the worst kind of tremor, because he knows how to pick up on it, to make it worse, to make me helpless. Ah, where does my nerve, my strength go?

I try and force his kisses away, shaking my head insistently. "No... no... no! It isn't... it can't-"

"Tell me what the matter is, baby..."

The fact his lips stop torturing mine long enough to speak the words allows me time to grapple at my senses, even as Dennis' skilled fingertips work further into my heat. "You!" I inform him, smirking as I grip his hand, paralyzing him and his action with the force of it, even if his fingers do not move, forced harder into me if they move at all. "You think it's gonna be like this when we're married? I give so you take? No, no... that isn't fair. I want us to balance this out."

"Oh yeah?" he questions, eyes shimmering with untold suggestion. "Like how?"

"Like this..." I assure him breathily, focing my mouth against his to steal back the attention of his kisses, whilst letting him know that I am most definitely the one with the control. And at the surprise of my strength of mind, Dennis' hand is sent innocently into spasm, spurring me on. Regaining a little composure however, he lets his drenched fingertips sweep across my thighs and I willingly part them a little more, inviting his caresses. I love how roughly he forces away the little material of my dress so that he might expose my body to his desires and mercies.

Within a moment, he is inside me, swelling still, making me cry out unashamedly for his skills and attentions. We establish a rhythm through nothing but the need to. And I love how, even after so long, there is no certainty to the way we make love. This is furious, desperate, because I need so much to enjoy my lover, experience the all-consuming release he will bring upon me. And, oh! I will welcome every moment. I'm biting desperately down into my lip to hold off my climax when a pain shoots across the base of my spine that has nothing to do with the way I have become so willingly crushed against the door just to have Dennis as I need him.

Someone's trying to get in...

I can hear the way the keypad keeps humming, admitting our intruder with every desperate stabbing of the code. Only, obviously, the door's not going to budge. But if this person knows the code... they can keep trying again and again... oh God, I go cold, cos my only thought, aside from how put out I feel at having this build-up desert me so suddenly without true release, is that it'll be my dad! Dennis too has noticed, and though he can't hold off that sexy, self-satisfied smirk, he is tremoring slightly beneath his clothes, askew for the fury of my nails.

There's no time to part, to right ourselves. We're going to be found out if we let this pressure relent even for a second. So Dennis holds me steady, making sure all my weight is placed strategically against the door.

But as the door judders forcefully into my spine a few more times in quick succession, Dennis and I find we can't hold back our laughter, bowing our heads so they rest against one another and trying to quieten the sound, stood there bodies and limbs entwined, giggling like drunk schoolkids as Chrissie (oh thank God, Chrissie!) curses;

"What the Hell's wrong with this door?"

And it explodes out of us, laughing helplessly.

"Sharon? Babe, is that you in there?"

I'm sure I can see tears gathering in Dennis' mesmerising eyes at what he considers the hilarity of it. I go to shove him but realise quickly what a catastrophic error that would be given that he's still buried within me. Besides, I can't stop myself laughing too, no chance of composure as I call out to reply;

"Uh... yeah... it is, Chrissie. You'll need to, um... give us a second!"

"Us?" she questions over our obvious hysterics. "Oh God, you haven't got Dennis in there too have you?"

My chest tightens in humoured agreement, and tears really are trickling down Dennis' face as he laughs soundlessly, unable to bear it.

"Yeah..." I tell her, really struggling for air now. I wish she'd go. I need to laugh myself stupid and then, well... then I need to orgasm and badly! "Dress was a bad idea... it's all..." I catch Dennis' eye and I swear my jaw begins to twinge painfully at the smirking. "...slipped out!"

She totters away without being able to form words to reply, probably too embarrassed by the image - and that one's so much more tamer than the truth! Me and Dennis listen to her footsteps fade away and then dissolve. I don't think we've laughed this much since that host caught us at it behind his restaurant, ranting at us in Italian. Oh God, it was hilarious! Didn't stop us picking up where we left off though...

I catch Dennis' face in my hand, guiding his gaze level as I quash the tear drops, tenderly beneath my thumbs, kissing him desperately and enquiring innocently; "Now where we were? Oh... I remember..."

 

The music from downstairs is pounding through the floor. I have no chance of sleeping now, damn it. Grumbling, I kick back the duvet, admitting defeat and pulling myself up, cursing my youngest daughter still as I go around the room, pulling on fresh clothes. I know not to try and shower in the morning now. I've lived with too many women to still be so ridiculous as to believe there will still be any hot water available by ten in the morning. Mind you, I suppose showering not long before midnight every night is just as ridiculous. Still, needs must, and right now, aside from a few strong words with that daughter of mine, I need a coffee.

I pound down the stairs, groaning as I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror Chrissie put up just after Christmas. As if the women in my life don't spend enough time preening themselves in front of mirrors anyway. I look awful, eyes bloodshot and face drawn. Best make that coffee a double espresso eh? I really do look like the Living Dead this morning. Not that there's much of the morning left, I observe, glancing down at my wrist to check my watch. It's quarter to eleven. God, I never sleep that long, not even on weekends. I really must be getting old.

I wince at the true volume of the music now that I am down here, surrounded by it, and I rush into the lounge, ready to have it out.

"Victoria! What have I told you about blasting this God awful-"

There's a soft giggle.

"Sorry Dad."

I look up in alarm, all my anger dissolving as I see it's Sharon sat on the sofa, her own mug of coffee made and at her disposal as she hunches over a load of papers spread out over the otherwise cleared coffee table.

"Princess..."

"Did I wake you up?" she questions sheepishly, colouring a little. "I didn't mean to. Guess I'm not used to not being in Miami yet. I'll turn it down." And she bounces up, rushing across the room to yank the volume button down. "Better?" She stretches up to kiss my cheek. "I wouldn't let Dennis catch you calling the Chilis awful though Dad, he won't be happy - this is his CD!"

I feel my facial muscles shift in incomprehension. "The what?"

"The Chilis." she echoes, smirking a little at my blank look. "The Red Hot Chili Peppers? Oh c'mon Dad, they've been around for over twenty years, you must have heard of them!"

I just shrug and she giggles again.

"Where is he anyway?" I ask.

"Who?"

"Dennis."

"Oh, he's still in bed."

"Still?" I probe doubtfully, raising my eyebrow. "You could raise the Dead with that racket Princess."

Grinning, she shakes her head. "Not Dennis, Dad. He could sleep through an earthquake if he wanted to. Thought it was best to leave him, he's probably shattered from the flight and all the fuss last night... he'd never admit it though, so don't tell him I said that!"

Smiling, I nod, and pick my way over to the stereo, lifting the CD case on top of the precarious stack.

"I just thought all this would have been more your sister's type of thing, that's all." I say, waving the case pointedly.

"Oh yeah, Vicki likes them too." Sharon assures me brightly with a nod. "But she's not here, is she? She's gone shopping with Chrissie."

I sigh, rolling my eyes. "Honestly, don't you girls know how to do anything different?"

My daughter simply grins again, spreading out her hands in cluelessness.

"Couldn't they tempt you, Princess?"

"Ah, I'm saving the pennies now aren't I Dad?" Proudly, she waggles her left hand at me, the diamonds on her finger glinting.

"Rubbish. The cost of this wedding is down to your old dad isn't it?"

"Don't be daft." she smiles coyly, stroking strands of hair away from her face and tucking them neatly behind her ear. "It's not going to cost all that much really. I'm just busy this morning, that's all. Now, let me make you a coffee, I know you're no good without one."

I nod gratefully and she moves out to the kitchen with a smile. I listen to her clanking round with the mugs in the cupboard before I occupy myself by edging round the coffee table and settling myself back on the sofa, scooping up a few of the papers, sifting through.

"This what you're busy with then, Princess?" I call out.

"Hmmm?" She dives back from the kitchen, leaning around the door. "Oh... oh yeah. Dad, I'm sorry, I used the last of the milk. Don't want it black do you?" She wrinkles her nose, knowing I'm not a fan.

I wave my hand dismissively. "I'll pop out for more milk in a second." I keep sifting through the documents. "What is all this darlin'?"

Smiling, Sharon settles herself down beside me. "Documents to apply for the marriage licence i'n't it? Probably won't need half of them though, look..." She reaches over, placing her hand over the edge of the bundle and leaf through herself. "...bank statements, passports, even got the accounts from the club... and look!" She yanks out one sheet of paper with a flourish, holding it proudly as she admires it. "My decree absolute!" Grinning, she presses her lips to the page, giggling softly as she draws back. "Happiest day of my life when this dropped on the mat, I swear. Had happier days since of course..."

"Glad to hear it! Got your papers here too?"

"The adoption ones you mean?" she asks, frowning a little as she goes through, looking for them. "Erm... I've kept them with our birth certificates, I think. Oh damn, where are they?"

And she drops the bundle of documents messily over the table, searching through all the others.

"This them here, Princess?"

I lift the sheet of A4 paper, shaking out two neatly folded squares of thicker, peachy coloured paper.

"Ah, you star!" Sharon beams, bouncing a little against the cushions of the sofa in excitement, watching me set them down on the table. I unfold one, and find it to be Sharon's. I try not to take in the words scrawled on all the lines, cos I hate that this is the only document in the world that declares this Princess is not mine. Sharon Watts is never going to be another man's daughter. I fold it roughly again, and toss it away in Sharon's direction. She smiles weakly, knowing my feelings on the thing, and tucks it neatly away in her passport, out of sight.

I lift the other square and unfold it carefully. Sharon leans in with interest.

"What's the matter? You not checked this out before?"

"Not really..." she shrugs. "All I know is that his dad was never put on it because, well... just because."

"So is this where we find out that Dennis is really knocking on for fifty, born in Clapham, and possibly born a Martha, not an Arthur?"

"Dad!" she scolds, hitting me across the arm as she giggles helplessly.

"Well my love, forgive me for saying so, but your fiancé is definitely what your mother woulda called... a pretty boy. She'd have had her suspicions too."

"I haven't got any." she points out firmly. "I love him and I want to marry him. End of."

"Good enough for me darlin'." I assure her, kissing her crown and she smiles, nestling against my shoulder as we both look over Dennis' birth certificate, mumbling the information we find.

"Dennis James Rickman... male..."

"Well, woulda you look at that Dad, huh? Born 28th August 1974, in... where?"

I squint over the line that should declare the district, but the registrar has such a scrawl, it's impossible to decipher. "Well, it could say Clapham..." I point out teasingly.

"It doesn't!" Sharon bleats. "I don't think the Rickmans moved Paula that far away from Walford..."

I nod stiffly. But I know exactly where he was born of course. Damn girl scrawled me enough letters as soon as he was born. I never read any past the first three or so, threw them away as soon as they came through the door. The post mark seemed to change all the time after the first few, I noticed. Then the letters would only start arriving in the summer and at Christmas. They dried up in '77 if I remember, yes, I was grateful.

I barely realise the words have passed my lips, until Sharon jolts. "He was born in Tottenham."

"What was that Dad?"

And I flinch. Damn, she was never supposed to hear that. "Oh yeah, word got round the Vic when the baby... when Dennis was born."

Sharon frowns. "How?"

I hunch my shoulders, biting into my lip for a moment. Then I consciously look my daughter in the eye - and lie. "Paula wrote to your mum, Princess, told her the news."

Bare faced lie, I know. But at least it seems to placate Sharon. She smiles, looking quite enamoured with the idea that Paula and Ange might have been friends. They never were. They tolerated each other, because I always wanted Ange in the bar, where I could keep an eye on how much of the stock she was necking when she thought I weren't looking. But oh, I was. And she was never that fond of Paula at all. She just saw how much we needed her because well, what use was Ange looking after a four year old when she could barely stand up?

No, no. Paula seemed to get on a lot better with me, shy little smiles, her eyes lighting up whenever I walked into the room. Poor girl. Her parents never gave her the time of day, I thought the least she deserved was some attention. Only...

28th August 1974...

My throat dry, head pounding, I leap up, almost knocking all of Sharon's papers clean off the table. She lurches to hold them all down with her hands, looking up at me with concern. But I can hardly bear to see her.

"Dad? You OK?"

"Course, Princess, yeah. Just, I could really use that coffee now. I'm gonna head out for that milk."

"Well, hold on and I'll-"

"No! No, you stay. Fresh air will do me good, won't it eh? Wake me up a bit?"

"Yeah. Alright." And up she gets, kissing my cheek. "See you in a minute then, Dad."

And she totters off. I don't think I dare to breathe as I head out the door.

Oh God, oh no! This is madness... how can it...? Dennis said she... he said she was a slut in so many words! And I'll be honest, I agree with the man. The amount of times I'd find her crying in front of the TV upstairs when I went to check on Sharon. And usually, the upset was because the pizza boy, the paper boy, the cocky lad at the back of her maths class, had taken what he wanted and scarpered. Paula had a gob on her when she wanted, made like she could look after herself, when really it was obvious, embarrassingly so in fact, that she just wanted to be looked after, loved in ways her parents had never bothered. I tried to make her see that she was going completely the wrong way about it, letting any lad that so much as look at her take his fill. But she didn't listen. No, she... oh the stupid girl! What was I supposed to do? I'm just a man... just like all the others. Why was she expecting me to be any different?

I never wanted to believe it was true. So I never have. There are plenty enough mugs out there that could have answered the call to the paternity of "that Rickman slag's brat!" I was so damn certain but... August 1974.... August.

No!

I hardly remember to pay for the damn milk. I don't even know what sort I've grabbed. Vicki's probably going to bawl at me later on for getting full fat. Even the short shrift the assistant gives me to extract the readies from me isn't enough to withdraw me from the horror of these thoughts, the realisation.

How can this have happened?

The radio is playing, quieter than the stereo was this morning, but playing still, on the side in the kitchen. My stomach jolts as I watch Sharon turn away from the fridge, coming round the table and setting a glass of orange juice down in front of Dennis, quite obviously just having pulled on yesterday's clothes and dragged himself out of bed. Nausea swirls as she settles herself across his lap, draped there like a damn trophy as she presses her lips to his... kissing him, really kissing him... her... oh God, her-

"Ahem!" I cough against my fist, hoping that if I force myself to go forward, I'll feel less inclined to... vomit. "Milk." I say flatly, leaving it on the side.

"Oh... right. D'you want that coffee now?"

I shake my head. I see Dennis' brow furrow.

"Den, don't take this wrong or anything but... you don't look so good..."

Of course I don't. You've got your hands all over her and she's your... She's wearing your ring on her finger and you're her...

Sharon frowns. "He's right Dad, you're really pale. And you're shaking! What- What is it?"

"Your wedding... it's off."

Mouth agape, she and Dennis exchange equally amazed and puzzled looks as Sharon laughs shrilly, coughing out her disbelief. "Excuse me... don't you think we should get a say in that?"

"It can't happen, you understand?"

"No." Dennis returns bluntly, eyes darkening. Oh dear God, he looks so much like me. How did I never...?

But the answer's simple. I never wanted to.

"Dad, what...?"

"Sit down, will ya?"

But Dennis' arms tighten around her and she scowls, looking down to gesture that she is sat.

"Your own damn chair, Princess. You're not a lap dog!" I snap.

She flinches, hurt and she obediently slides across into the chair beside Dennis', his eyes darkening still as he grips Sharon's hand defiantly.

Let go... let go! You don't understand!

"What's changed Dad?" Sharon questions suspiciously.

"Everything's changed, Princess."

But she shakes her head, refusing to believe it. "Last night, you said you were proud! How can you go from that to cancelling my wedding in a few words? What's wrong with you?"

Dennis blanches at his lip, glancing at the table. "It's me, isn't it?"

But Sharon holds his hand so tight, his knuckles whiten as she demands; "Dad?!"

I remain silent. I can't believe I have to do this to her. My little girl...

"You're unbelievable!" she sneers, aghast. "Is that it? Dennis? Well, fuck you!"

And she leaps up before I can even think to reprimand her, too stunned by her outburst. I just reach to pull on her elbow and she tears herself away, spinning round in accusation. And I hate that glassy tears have built readily in her eyes... all because of me.

"Why Dad? Tell me why! What is it? Not what you were expecting, not quite good enough?"

"Princess..."

But she's fighting too hard to hold all the emotion back and it overpowers her. Dennis' chair clatters back and he gets up to comfort her, but, hand clamped to her mouth as the tears pour down, she raises the other to keep him at a distance. She steadies her breathing and then turns her venemous eyes back on me.

"Whatever your problem is, I don't care... we're in love, Dad. And I never really needed your approval or your permission, I'm gonna marry him anyway."

"You can't." I growl desperately.

"Yes I can. I'm not a child anymore. I'm gonna get married and I'm gonna be happy, away from this Square, away from you! How could you, Dad?"

"I have to!" I bark, rising too.

"Why?" Dennis hisses quietly. "Why d'you have to?"

I cast my eyes guiltily down, but turn away from the room in the next moment.

"Don't you dare walk away from me!"

I sigh heavily, without even the energy to turn round and look at her.

I hear a quiet sob escape her as I go into the lounge. Rifling messily through the documents still spread out across the coffee table, snatching up Dennis' birth certificate, shuddering as I hold it in my hands. But I pull myself together and go back out into the hall to head back into the kitchen. But I stop. Because I can see Dennis, wrapped around my daughter as she cries softly into his chest.

"Why's he doing this to us, Dennis? What have I done?"

"I don't know baby..." he mumbles into her hair. "I just don't know."

Dennis catches sight of me and his eyes flare angrily. I don't return anything. He should know he's damn lucky that I haven't torn him away from my daughter. But Sharon obviously feels his body tense against her and looks frightfully up, instinctively scowling as she registers my return. Her tearful eyes settle on the paper in my hand.

"Whose is that?"

"Dennis'." I inform her simply.

Sniffling, she pulls back from him, wiping desperately at her eyes. "What d'you want with it?"

"Just listen to me for a minute will ya? Dennis James Rickman, born 28th August 1974, in the district of Tottenham..."

"I have looked at my own bloody birth certificate before now Den!" he says hotly, but I stare at him, defying him so that I might continue.

"Mother... Paula Rickman. Father... Unknown. Except he ain't, Dennis."

He laughs coldly, his rigid arms refusing to drop from around my daughter.

"What you getting at, Dad?" Sharon presses anxiously, holding desperately onto him.

"She asked you a question, Den!" Dennis spits after half a minute or so, apparantly intolerable of my shamed silence. "What are you trying to say? C'mon... I mean, what? What's so terrible that this morning... Sharon and me can't be together when last night you were all for it?!" I flinch and he laughs smugly. "Oh don't tell me mate, it's you! You're the old man!"

My neck jerks. I glare at him and his smug look crashes from his face.

"Dad..." Sharon begins nervously. "...he was joking. It was a joke!"

But I don't move. "It's no joke, Princess. It's true. Dennis is my son."

I go rigid against Dennis. He draws back a little way, his arms stiffer than ever around me, thankfully never releasing me. He looks at Dad and laughs coldly. It's only at his dismissal that I dare to relax. I trust my lover, more than perhaps I should ever have dared to trust my own father. I can't believe he would be so cruel, as to speak the harshest of lies so simply, just to damage me, my relationship!

"I like it, Den!" Dennis says viciously, venom alive in his beautiful eyes. Dad blinks in disgust, thinking that maybe my fiancé has lost his mind. But on the contrary, I see that Dennis is perhaps the only one of us that can still claim to be sane. "No, really, I like it! That's really imaginative! Why don't you just come out and say it for God's sake? You've changed your mind, and you don't want me marrying Sharon. Shame you don't really have a say in that, isn't it?"

"We should have come out to Miami..." Dad mumbles. "This shouldn't have been allowed to go on so long!"

I lift my head defiantly. "What could you have done Dad, eh? Stopped us living together? Stopped us loving each other? I don't care what you think, d'you understand that? I don't care what you think and I don't care what pathetic lies you decide you wanna come out with; when we go home to Miami, Dennis and I are getting married! Jesus Dad, if Vicki & Chrissie can be happy for us, why can't- what is it with you?"

"I've just told you!" he says gruffly, eyes flashing dangerously, even as I step away from Dennis in wonderment.

"And we don't believe you." Dennis returns bluntly. I feel my chest swell in agreement, glaring at my father.

"How are we supposed to believe you?" I demand despairingly. "For God's sake, Dad, Paula was seventeen!"

He cast his eyes down, nibbling guiltily at his lip. "I'm not proud of it."

"You... You were shagging my babysitter? You cheated on my mum with a school girl? Oh Jesus, what am I saying, that's not news! Why are you doing this to me, Dad? Why?"

His eyes lock instinctively on my engagement ring. I cover it protectively with my other hand, stroking uneasily across the surface of each diamond with my quivering fingertip.

"You can't marry Dennis, Princess. There's nowhere in the world that would let you marry your..." He hesitates, the word seeming to choke him. "...brother."

I recoil, shuddering. I feel sick, a twinge in my neck as I look over at Dennis. There's a frantic gleam in his eyes, the uneasiest smirk taking his lips. "No!" he yells in the next moment, slamming his birth certificate back down as soon as it is scrunched in his fist. "I'm not buying this, Den alright, not ever! She didn't have a clue! Too many names to choose from, always too drunk, she didn't know. It says so right there... "Father Unknown"! C'mon, you show me where your name is on this thing! It isn't! And it ain't there for a reason! You're lying. You're so damn desperate that you're lying."

But Dad's still look at the floor, sighing heavily. "I knew she was carrying you, I knew alright. She couldn't wait to tell me. Bunked off school, offered to come look after Sharon, just for the excuse. Very pleased with herself she was. Proud, yeah."

"I ain't listening, Den." Dennis warns him.

But Dad smiles cruelly, knowing that the both of us have got no choice but to do exactly that. "She seemed to think that... you... changed everything."

"Didn't though, did I?" 

"Oh... Dennis, it was never personal. But I was never about to leave Ange, Sharon, The Vic when there was just as much likelihood you weren't- Your mum... she had a silly schoolgirl's crush."

"Yeah." I hiss defensively, hardly believing the words he's letting pass his lips. "It was so ridiculous, you got her pregnant?"

"I didn't wanna believe it, Princess."

"So why it's true now? Why?"

"Shut up Sharon!" Dennis snaps. "None of it's true, look at him! I ain't listening to it! Don't let him do this to us, alright?"

I feel sympathy knot my stomach. The last thing I could ever have wanted in this world was for Dennis to be hurt. I turn and I try and reach out for him, just to have my hand brush against him. 

"Darlin'..."

But he shrugs me away, the venom in his glance all directed at Dad. Wordlessly he shoves his way past and slams out of the house before I can even put one foot in front of the other to follow him. But as the door slams, my senses jolt and I force myself forward. This is going to be alright, it has to be. He's everything to me.

But Dad pulls on my arm. I whirl round so fast in accusation, I almost catch him across the face. It would serve him right if I did, just so he might feel some of this pain.

"Princess..."

"Is it true?" I demand hotly.

"Yes."

"And you'd swear on that, would you?" He looks away, forcing me to persist, my anger building for every second. "Swear on my life that what you just said is true. Swear it or I'm gone, Dad. I'll go and find Dennis and we'll get on the first plane back to Miami! We could be married by this time tomorrow and I wouldn't care if I never saw you aga-"

"I swear!" he declares anxiously, looking stricken at having to do so. Shaking slightly, he takes my clammy hands into his own. "On your life, Sharon-" he says, voice waivering dangerously. "-Dennis is my son."

My stomach jolts with nausea, my voice a shattered whisper as I plead; "Daddy, no..."

He claws back his lips, no sparkle in his eyes to indicate he's joking around, however many times and however desperately I search for it. 

My head throbs with incomprehension, tears stinging readily in my eyes. "But I love him. He- He wants to marry me!"

"He can't. You can't!"

I fall back heavily on my heel, scowling. "Do you even know how old Dennis is, Dad? Has your tiny little mind worked it out yet? He's thirty-two in August. Thirty-two! If this is true, really, then you've had more than thirty years to find him, let him know that he came from somewhere! Because he's hated it, not knowing who the other half of him is! And you say it's you. Why couldn't you have just admitted it before... before anything! Because now, what? I'm in love with my own brother?"

"I'm sorry." he mumbles quietly.

"He's the best thing that's happened to me, have you realised that? The best. And I thought I was so lucky. But what am I, Dad, what? Twisted? Sick in the head? What the Hell am I?"

"You're upset." he answers vaguely, eyes glistening sadly. "C'mon, sit down..."

"I don't want to sit down!" I shriek, throwing him off. "I want answers! How can this be happening? How... How could you? I just wanted to be happy, Daddy. That's all I wanted!" I think back over these last two years, my life in the sun... falling in love. It was the best cliché. Every cross word, and God, when me and Dennis row, we shake the foundations, it's eclipsed in the dozens of happy, giggly sundrenched moments I can instantly recall in its place. I love him so much. How can that all be lies in so few words of destruction? It feels so real...

"I never saw him, Princess. Paula would write but I-"

Suspicion shakes me. "You said she wrote to Mum! Dennis is right, it's all lies isn't it?"

"I found out when he was born. Saw a photo that's all. I never wrote back, didn't even open them once she started pleading with me to go and see them both. I mean, I never really could be certain he was my boy, Sharon. You've heard him yourself, his mother was a slut. He could have been anyone's... he still could be!"

"So why are you telling me all this?"

Yanking a chair back across the floor, Dad collapses at the table with another heavy sigh, needing several seconds before he can muster the nerve to look up into my maddened face. "Because, as much as I'd like to, I don't think it's coincidence. Yes, I slept with Paula a few times so yes, I could be his father, I admit it. Y'know me Princess, always hold my hands up to my mistakes."

"That's all he is then eh? A mistake?"

He looks up, eyes wide in surprise, somehow disbelieving of how affronted I am. But can't he see he's breaking my heart?

"Well, I never planned him!" he says dubiously, muttering into the screen of his hands. "She might have but I-"

"It takes two, Dad!"

"Don't deny that either, Princess. But she really was... proud, telling me she was pregnant, waffling on about how we could go away and be together with the baby. She'd go on, saying she loved me... I told her she was a child, needed to go away and grow up a little."

"Oh, but she went away didn't she?"

"Mmmm. But not before it was damn obvious she was expecting. She'd still come up to the flat, look after you. Or she'd skulk around the bar, warding off the evils from Lou and Ethel. Always had a smug look about her when she started showing. I was terrified she was gonna start shouting her mouth off. Course it was only when she got the belly on her that your mum took any shine to her at all, what with her..." His eyes rake over me sympathetically and I shudder in repulsion, staving him off with a cold glare. "...condition."

"Mum may not have been the best of wives, Dad, but she never deserved all this. How do you live with yourself? Cheating your wife? With Jan, with the babysitter? Cheating your son out of a relationship, out of knowing who he really is! Cheating me out of my happiness! No-one's ever made me feel like Dennis does and now it's just... it's all wrong! And it shouldn't be! I just wanted you all to like him and then I wanted to marry him, that was all."

"I'm so sorry, Princess."

"Oh, keep your apologies! You already owe Dennis thirty years' worth!"

With one last hateful look, I storm off towards the door, with just one thought left in my head.

Dad's chair clatters back and he whirls round. I see, with a cruel smirk curving my lips now, that for the first time ever, he looks desperate.

"Where are you going?"

"To find my fiancé."

Given that I've never set foot in this place before now (and I'm definitely starting to see why!) I have absolutely no bloody idea where I'm going as soon as I'm free from the confines of that house. I could feel it winding me up, and the more that bastard talked, the more I was certain I was about to explode. And I'm quite proud of my temprement since I've been in Miami with Sharon. I used to be a right violent little bastard, but I'd rather she didn't have to know that and if I'd stayed in that house, I'm pretty sure I woulda half killed, if not totally slaughtered her old man... my old man.

He's got to be lying hasn't he? But my uncertainty drives me away from the pub across the Square. Cos that's it. That's the place Sharon grew up with Den and her mum. That's where my mum musta gone to babysit. So was I conceived in one of the bedrooms, on a kitchen counter, what?

And I have to keep thinking it, driven half mad as I pace around this hideous Square, getting more and more homesick for the Florida sun for every second I spend trapped beneath the threatening London skies. I actually feel sick. With disbelief, with anger. Just when everything seemed to make sense. I've been happier in these last two years than even might be legal. Sharon's my fuckin' world. Nothing else mattered - least of all who my father was. And now... now it has to matter because she's... she's my sister! That's what he's saying, right? I proposed marriage to my own sister! And that definitely ain't legal.

It's madness. Cos all I can think is; why couldn't he have just not wanted me to marry her? For fuck's sake, why couldn't that just have been it? Cos at least I know that wouldn't have made any difference to Sharon and me. We'd have got the licence anyway and I know we'd have married. And God, it might have hurt her to be without Den's blessing, but I woulda made her happy. Why else would I be so damn willing to give my life to it? I just want her to be happy. And I know that fucker of a father is gonna have screwed her up like never before. 

I wish I hadn't left her there, cos that's precisely when he's gonna have had his pop at it, I know. But how the Hell could I stay? I still feel crazy, am worried I'm gonna end up murdering some innocent person on the street just cos they frown or scowl as I shove my way roughly past. I'm dangerous right now. Not even I wanna be this close to me.

I crash out in the playground around the corner from Sharon's club. I concentrate a little too hard on the creaking of the swing as I grip the rusting chains, almost grateful to feel them burn so viciously into my palms as I kick harder and harder against the ground, somehow never seeming to go any higher.

"Dennis?"

I judder to a halt through surprise, whipping round to see Sharon stood nervously at the edge of the playground, leant against the flaking green railings. She looks relieved to have found me, perhaps only now meaning the smile that takes her unwilling lips. And I guess it means something that she came looking for me, given that her face is still fraught with anxiety.

"Will you talk?"

She raises the question doubtfully. Cos she knows that when it gets too much for me, I clam up. I let it build inside, I get angry and eventually, hopefully, it'll dissolve. Is it right that how well she knows me freaks me out a little now? Because while I know everything about her, there's this new side of which I know nothing at all. And it frightens me.

"I dunno what you're expecting me to say."

She smiles weakly. I love that about her... how she doesn't ever give up on me. But has she got any choice anymore? Have I? 

"That's OK. I just... don't wanna be sent away, that's all..." 

When I don't say anything, she moves round the edge of the railing, her heels crunching down into the bark for every step she takes towards me. She reaches down and steadies the tyre next to me. "Can I sit down?"

I shrug. "It's a free country isn't it?"

She lowers herself down, gripping one chain as she gently paws at the ground. "Yeah. Just... not as free as we thought, eh?"

"He hates me, doesn't he? He really hates me."

Her eyes dim sadly as she shakes her head. "No, Dennis. He doesn't hate you."

"No? Then why's he so against me and you eh?"

Gulping, she glances down into her lap, her knuckles whitening she holds the chains so tight.

"Because it's true. What he said is true."

I bite into my lip, shaking my head profusely. "No. No! Sharon, how can you believe that?"

"Because if it wasn't true, I'd be dead on the ground."

I smile sarcastically, feeling just one corner lift insincerely. She has always been such a supertitious bitch. I can't believe she believes in all that. "What'd he swear on then, c'mon."

"Me. And he hated doing it, but I made him because I know I matter to him."

I laugh bitterly. "Well hey, don't worry, cos in that case, you're only talking to his son, right?"

She flinches guiltily, and I hate how she trembles as I watch her. "Dennis, I'm sorry, I... didn't think!"

I smile softly. "You shouldn't need to. This just shouldn't be happening."

And she giggles, the sound forced and painful. I never thought I'd ever hear her laugh like that. It's the kind of laugh you'd give out if someone has told you a really bad joke, but you think enough of them to not wanna be rude.

We just sit there in silence for a while, swinging back and forth. But we slow up and Sharon reaches over, her hand still shaking and reaches for my own where it lies across my knee. Her touch surprises me, but I've never known how to refuse it. Besides, she seems to draw strength from folding her hand around and fiercely squeezing my hand, and I wanna be able to give her something. I try and pretend I cannot see the tears brimming in her eyes as she looks over at me, exerting pressure on her lip to stop it quivering so treacherously.

"You know I love you, don't you?"

I stiffen, my gaze locked on her finger, the ring I put there last night, glimmering miserably. God, we were gonna be so happy.

"Is that still allowed?" I question dryly.

And it's like she suffers a spasm in her hand, no control over when she squeezes my hand tighter, replying miserably; "I don't think so..."

"Who are you, Sharon?"

And just for a second, I wish she'd question me. But now she knows that it ain't half as ridiculous as it sounds.

"I coulda told you twenty minutes ago." she confesses meekly. "I was so sure."

I stroke idly across her knuckles, hating how damn cold her hands feel. "Yeah well, I can't say I was ever expecting to find out my girlfriend's actually my-"

But she shudders, cutting me off as she forcefully pulls her hand away from mine, mumbling; "Don't."

I feel a smile take my lips in spite of myself as I bow my head, fighting back a laugh. "You wanted to talk, right?"

"Yeah well, maybe I was wrong eh? Maybe I just need some time..."

Sighing gently, she pushes herself up off the swing. And I know she wants to go hide away in a corner somewhere, pretend the world looks different from there, pretend all this isn't really going on. Only, I used to be the one that could find her, and get her out of the loneliness of that one corner by getting down there too, by putting my arms around her and just, yes... talking. But we can't do that now. She's said so herself.

"Sharon?" I murmur, halting her before she has managed just one aimless pace. 

She turns back around with a faltering smile that cannot force itself to exist on her lips. I can already see the sob pulsing desperately in her throat.

"Please don't cry. You know I hate it when you cry."

So nearly almost she laughs, but swallows the sound down before it can be born and betray this choking misery, shaking her head gently. "I won't cry. I promise."

I wish she wouldn't, cos I already know in the way her eyes are sparkling that she's lying to me, that the tears will fall as soon as she is far enough away for me not to hear them. And she recognises the way I look at her so doubtfully and she steps back to defend herself. "I'm just... I... I'm so confused. I don't know what I'm meant to feel, but what I do feel... it's suffocating and I just can't bear the thought... I swear I didn't know. The whole babysitter thing didn't even click until I saw the photo..."

"Stop explaining yourself, would ya? I might not know much right now Sharon, yeah, but I know you're not deranged. Got morals, principles, all that?"

Her smile now is humourless. "What good are they doing me, Dennis huh? I still love you, don't I?"

I fumble with my hands, needing to occupy myself now that her own is gone from mine. "Yeah well, most sisters do love their little brothers, don't they eh? Usually think they're a pain in the arse too, so we fit all the criteria so far."

"Yeah." she agrees haughtily, her eyes averted from mine in disgust until she can get herself to lift her gaze level with mine. "All apart from the fact we got engaged last night."

I nibble at my lip, wishing I wasn't half as fixated with the ring as I can't help but be. "You're not ready for that conversation yet."

Her cold, quivering laughter mocks me as she looks madly around the playground. "When are we ever gonna be ready? Have you thought about it, really? Everything this means?" But she gives up with a defeated sigh because we both know that everything it means is way too much right now. So the stupid cow changes tactic completely. "My dad's a good man, Dennis."

I look away, gripping the chain tighter as I swing, muttering; "Can't really recommend him in the parenting department though can you, Sharon?"

She shrugs, hating how she can't deny his words. "OK, so he's not the best but... he loves his kids." 

But she winces as soon as the words have left her mouth, those beautiful eyes glistening with regretful horror as I glare over at her. "Yeah." I say breathily. "I'm feeling that."

"Oh God..."

I wave my hand dismissively. "Just go, yeah? Go find your corner like always, go hide. I'll find you later."

"Do you... Do you promise? Dennis, please don't... don't-"

"Don't what?" I demand hotly. "The way I see it, there isn't much I haven't already done!"

I watch her bite into her lip as I glare again at the ring, eyes narrowed in incomprehension, contempt even. Her other hand creeps across and covers it protectively from my view. And I can't help but wonder; What the Hell is there to protect now?

"Don't leave." she pleads, tears trickling down now. "Nothing's ever gonna be any better that way."

"My God-" I hiss disbelievingly. "-you actually think I'm so gutless that I'd walk out?"

"No, I didn't mean..."

"Oh I know what you meant darlin', don't worry!"

"Dennis, please... I just mean we're gonna have to talk things out, that's all."

"But you don't want to talk, Sharon." I say thoughtfully as my lips twist to present a sneer. "You said you need time..."

Steadily, Sharon becomes aghast as she searches for the very few words left in existence that aren't just gonna rile me further. They refuse to come to her and she flounders. "I do! I just... oh God, whatever!" She holds up her hands in exasperation as she paces back, widening the gulf between us. And it is actually physical crucifying. "I'm not doing this now. You sulk, do whatever. But this is happening to me too, y'know. I don't think that even matters to you!"

Oh God, she's wrong. She's so wrong. It's all that matters. Why can't I stop it?

"Where are you going?" I demand, my voice cracking the angrier every syllable gets. I'm losing her, I'm losing my baby. I can see it, I can feel it, it's killing me - and there's fuck all I can do to stop it. I hate you for this, Mother.

"The Minute Mart. Yeah. Then I'm gonna go and slump on the bench in the Gardens and get absolutely off my face. You just... come find me when you're feeling that much more grown up eh?"

Only, he doesn't. I do go to the Minute Mart and I buy the biggest bottle of vodka they'll sell me. The sales assistant looks very disapproving as she hands it over because it's barely half past twelve at the point of sale. But I just scowl back at her. I mean, seriously, would she wanna be sober if she was going through what I was? No! But of course, it was just too damn easy for her wasn't it? I saw the wedding ring on her finger. So she found her man, she loved him, he loved her too, and they decided to get married. It was as simple as that. Why can't I just have it simple too? What the Hell is wrong with me?

I'm already unscrewing the cap before my drained body crashes back against Arthur's bench, swallowing down the first very large, foul-tasting mouthful. Dennis knows how to handle this stuff, he drinks it like water. I flinch as I realise I've found myself thinking about him again. I'm going to have to stop aren't I? But how? How am I supposed to stop when everything about him has been everything to me for the last two years? To lose him would be like losing... half of me. I thought he made me right when so much had been so wrong for so painfully long. Only now it turns out I've been romanticising every detail of the little brother I never knew I had.

And if I had... oh God if I had...

I prop the bottle, a lot lighter very quickly I admit, against the arm of the bench and bend my knees childishly up to my chest, beginning to fumble helplessly with my engagement ring. Twisting it this way and that, just trying to catch it in the kind of light that would make this alright, even as a sob presses threateningly against my throat. This ring means so much to me. And now I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Tear it off, fling it away in disgust, pretend none of it meant anything? Because damnit, I'm not disgusted. It'd probably make more sense if I could make myself be, but all I am is heartbroken and I hate that even more.

I learnt all my lessons falling in love with my husband's brother. Had I ever consciously known that Dennis was my own brother then I... I'd have loved him, sure. I always wanted a little brother. But at thirty-two, he's hardly little and I don't just love him. I'm in love with him and that's a whole new dimension. It would never have happened if I'd known. But how the Hell do I denounce it all now? Our relationship is my world.

Except, now my world seems to reside in the bottom of that damn bottle. Oh, Dennis is right. I've found my corner, but I'm hardly hiding here am I? I wish he'd come to me, do as he always does. But it's just so different now. I see he's not going to come. I keep flinching everytime there is a crunching on the ground or a rustling of leaves, just hoping I'll see him. But I keep being left disappointed. Cos my baby's hurting too. And maybe it hurts too much to be around me now. 

Nausea swirls inside as I consider that the promises behind this ring may well be all gone. Hot tears prick in my eyes, refusing to hold themselves back anymore. It's June and yet I hunch there and shiver. God, it's all I want to feel Dennis' arms around me, that soft whisper against my ear, promising me it'll be alright. But how can it? Just... how?

"Sharon? What are you doing sat there?"

"Ugh." is my only reply.

The bottle clinks against the arm of the bench as Vicki lifts it up into her hands, the corners of her mouth falling in concern as she glances at me. I turn my head away, refusing to be reprimanded. Cos I know that's what she's doing really. She doesn't want to but she can't help it, even in just the way she looks at me.

"Why's this here?" she asks, sinking down next to me. 

I completely blank her however and raise my own question, forcing myself to smile as I do.

"What happened to the shopping trip? Aren't you supposed to be Up West with Chrissie right now?"

Vicki's back goes rigid, unappreciative of the way I'm so obviously avoiding her question. But thankfully, she has the sense to answer me.

"She forgot her damn purse didn't she? She's gone back to the house to get it now."

"Right." I respond bluntly. I'm not interested. I just need to avoid a true conversation right now. But I know I'm a fool. Cos this is Vicki, all she knows how to do is push.

"Have you been drinking?"

I shrug moodily.

"Sharon!"

"Oh leave me alone, Vicki!" I snap, glowering at her. "You don't know alright? You just don't know!"

Her brow furrows. "Know what? What's going on?" She scoots closer, her hand resting precariously against my knee. "Sis, are you crying?"

I laugh bitterly, proving her right wordlessly by lifting my hand to wipe at my eyes.

"It's all gone wrong..."

"I... I don't understand. What has?"

But I smile weakly and tug at my engagement ring a little more, each turn that loosens it from my finger feeling like I've been kicked in the stomach. "Might as well take it off right? I haven't got a use for it now."

And my sister gasps in horror. "The engagement's off? Sharon, have you and Dennis had a row or something?"

I shake my head sadly. "Not exactly, no."

Of course, she looks totally flummoxed. "Well, what... what was it then? C'mon, it must have been something huge if you guys are... oh Sharon, you've been together for years!"

"And we shouldn't have been!" I snap instinctively. "You know that? We really shouldn't have been!"

"Well, why not? You're... mad about each other!"

"Oh Vicki.... you don't know what it would mean to me to still see things the way you do darlin'."

She cries out in exasperation. "I don't understand. What the Hell can have made everything so different?"

I shake my head sadly. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

But she just scowls defiantly and grips the neck of the vodka bottle tighter. "But you're gonna have to tell me aren't you? What you gonna do otherwise?" She swills the liquid round in the bottle accusingly. "Drink yourself stupid?"

"But I am stupid. I am!"

"Why?"

"Because it turns out, we... or rather Dad has known who Dennis' father is all along."

"No, I still don't get it Sharon, what's Dennis' dad got to do with anything?"

"Nothing at all darlin'." I sniffle. "At least, not if it wasn't Dad."

She splutters in disbelief. "What? Sharon, how much of this have you had?" And Vicki looks down worriedly into the bottle, eyes wide with fear. I wrestle it from her hands and deliberately drink down a dangerously large mouthful. "You're being... Dennis said he didn't know- how can Dad be-?"

"Oh he can." I inform her bitterly, taking another deep swig. "Yeah, he can be when the babysitter's an easy lay!"

"No!"

"Mmmm, Paula had a schoolgirl's crush on him apparantly! I just... I can't believe his nerve!" I seethe, clenching my fists angrily. "Obviously no-one ever told him schoolgirl crushes were never meant to be reciprocated."

Vicki waves her hand sarcastically, sighing; "Y'think?"

I throw myself miserably back against the bench, gasping out breaths of exasperation as the tears begin to shake me. "I just don't know what I'm meant to do Vicki. Cos this means he's my... he's our brother and I..." I lift my hand, and her eyes seem to widen even further at the sight of the ring on my finger, as if she'd never known it was there. "I love him so much. How am I supposed to stop feeling that? Tell me how I'm meant to change everything that's happened between us because I..."

"Would you want to?" she questions vaguely, colour gradually returning to her blanched lip.

Words fail me. "I... I have to!"

But Vicki just shakes her head, making it still seem so simple. "But that's not what I asked. You and Dennis have been together two years Sharon, and by the state of you, I'd say you haven't know about... this for more than... ten minutes? It's not just gonna change everything straight away is it?"

"It has to, doesn't it?"

A sympathetic smile seems to curve her glossy lips and I admit, I envy her level headedness.

"You just said you love him."

"I do. You know I do."

"And he loves you too. There's no doubting that or you wouldn't be wearing that thing." She gestures towards the ring that I instantly take to fiddling with again. "So even if it's true, even if he is... that... neither of you can just change what's between you."

"But we're... it's wrong isn't it?"

"Does it feel it?"

Tears streak down my face as I shake my head fiercely. "No. No, it doesn't."

"No-one had a clue Sharon. Well, no-one except our bastard father anyway. How were you to know? You haven't done anything wrong! Either of you. It just happened, that's all, and why shouldn't it?"

I laugh weakly. Talk about a stupid question. "He's our brother Vicki, didn't you get that bit?"

But she just shrugs. "And did you ask for that? He was gonna be my brother-in-law anyway so-"

"Oh shut up, you stupid little girl!" I snap, swinging my legs off the bench as I glare at her. She shrinks back, wrapping her arms across her chest defensively. "Don't you understand? Dennis is Dad's son. I can't marry him. And that's all I want! And I can't! Because that's what he is, he's my brother. Your brother! And I'm in love with him and- I feel crazy, nothing makes sense!" 

"What would you rather I said Sharon?" she spits hotly as she watches me wind myself up. "That I think it's dirty? Repulsive? Cos I can if you want! I'll say whatever as long as you get a fucking grip!"

She leaps up and I scream, terrified she's about to leave me. I don't want to be alone. I think I've already lost the most important person in my life, I can't lose her too. Cos right now, I just need someone. And frightfully, Vicki seems to recognise that, wrapping her arms around me, and I cling to her as I sob.

I don't want to get a grip. Cos then all there is to do is think. And I daren't do that anymore. Because too much leaps forward all at once to attack. I want to believe what Vicki says. Me & Dennis are the innocents in all of this. Our only crime is falling in love right? But how did we? If Dennis is my dad's son, then what exactly have I fallen in love with? Did I ever look at him and think that he reminded me of...? Did it make me smile? The little things he did, whatever he said to remind me? Because it's not gonna make me smile anymore. Oh God, no.

"You're not crazy, Sharon..." Vicki soothes nervously, stroking through my hair. "You're not. You just... You didn't know!"

No, I didn't. I didn't know the first time Dennis kissed me, or any time after that. I didn't know the first time I said I loved him, the first time he said it back. We didn't know. And yet, I don't believe that Dad didn't know last night, rejoicing as Dennis coldly mentioned the rugby team. Yeah, I bet he really clung to that didn't he? Wriggled off the hook, convinced himself it was OK when Dennis presented me with the ring at the restaurant table. Just for that evening, maybe he really cared about my happiness. How can he snatch it away like this?

"But we... we can't be together anymore, can we? Not this way."

Twisting her shoulder, Vicki forces me back, questioning; "Is that what you've decided? You & Dennis?"

I can barely smile, shaking my head furiously as I confess; "I don't think we're talking right now, darlin'. I mean, I tried, but we-"

"Yeah-" Vicki sighs, her arms encircling me again. "-I can imagine."

"I don't think I could stand to lose him." I mumble pathetically into her shoulder. "But I don't even know he's still here."

Vicki blinks. "Where d'you think he's gone?"

"Nowhere I hope. But he could be anywhere. I mean, all he's gotta do is get on the Tube right?"

"And go where?" she pushes.

"I just said I don't know. He's got loads of mates still in London. He could be on the other side of the city by now."

I flinch as the bottle clinks against the side of the bench again, terrified it's about to roll off and smash when I could really do with guzzling the rest of its contents right now. Especially seeing as when Vicki spins away to assess the sound, I've lost all my support, can barely hold myself up, and that's before I can make myself look too.

The sun seems really weak behind him, but still it illuminates the smirk stretching the corner of his lip upwards. He's swung the bottle up there too, drinking down his favourite potion, seemingly grateful to have that sheen upon his lips.

"Not though am I, Sharon? Nice corner."

Sharon can barely mean the smile that curves her lips, a nervous laugh escaping as she clamps down on it to make it stop quivering so treacherously. She looks scared of me if I'm honest and I hate that. I wish I knew what to say. I mean, I came looking for her, but I think I only did it cos, back there, I was starting to ache without her. And she's right. I need to face this. Not that I necessarily have the nerve, kicking away scurrying leaves caught up in the slightest breeze as I find myself staring at the ground, forcing the words out.

"Listen, earlier I... I'm sorry. Just... can we... talk n-now?"

But she can't look me in the eye.

"Yes." Vicki says quickly, her hand curling around Sharon's elbow to urge her forward. "You can."

I reel a little, barely realising Vicki was here at all.

"Hiya Vicks." I say, smiling awkwardly and glancing quickly around her feet. "You seem to be missing about thirty shopping bags darlin', what happened?" But I wince as I hear the words leave my mouth cos I realise she's wearing a look exactly the same as Sharon's. I bury my hands deep in my pocket and laugh bitterly. "Well, I guess I hoped you'd turn out like my little sister..."

"Don't, Dennis." she advises quietly, shaking her head. 

I nod slowly in understanding, nervously licking my cracked lips. "You just as freaked then eh?"

Her facial muscles scrunch and she hunches her shoulders. "It's just... mental, y'know?"

"Yeah, listen... Vicki, I really do wanna talk to you about this but... right now..." My gaze strays pointedly to Sharon, who stares even more intently at the ground. 

Vicki however, nods, smiling almost as she raises her palms in surrender, edging past me. "I'm gone."

I smile gratefully, half turning to watch her move off. I'm a little too intent in doing so. But nerves knot in my stomach because the further away she gets, the sooner I need to have the words to turn back to Sharon, and I still have precisely nothing. My attention however, is refocussed at this dull thud as Sharon throws herself back against the bench, staring miserably into her lap, pulling the billowing sleeves of her tunic top over her knuckles, rocking a little.

I stand in front of her and force the vodka bottle into her hands with the weakest of smiles. She lifts her head, squinting up at me against the low sunlight and says; "You know I hate this stuff."

"Yeah right, cos that's totally what you said when you were necking twenty-three tonics in one night!"

She gasps in disbelief as she tilts the bottle to her lips anyway. "I did that once Dennis!"

I can't help but smile broadly. "Yeah well, you didn't think I was gonna spend seven hours in the Emergency Room with ya more than once, did ya?"

"I dunno." she shrugs, pursuing her lips thoughtfully before taking her next sip. "Weren't we there longer that time I- I mean, you-"

I settle myself beside her, hunching forward on the edge of the bench and turning my hand up to face the skies so she cannot miss the silvery line of the scar all across my wrist. "You mean when you did this?"

She gasps almost in wonderment at the sight of it and, forcing the vodka bottle into my hands, scoots forward and slides one hand under my wrist and traces over the thin line with a fingertip. I wince, and she turns her head, a flare of accusation in my smirk. "Shut up. This was four months ago, it don't still hurt."

"Oh, and you'd know would ya?"

"You weren't supposed to clear it up, were ya? You were supposed to yell back at me, you arse - not go cutting your fuckin' wrist open on the glass!"

"Yeah well, you weren't supposed to hurl our fucking holiday photos at my head! Bitch."

I'm not even conscious of the fact my arm has fallen from across the back of the bench, to around Sharon, until it jolts as she bows her head against my shoulder, her hand still idly playing with my wrist. She doesn't flinch at my touch however, so I don't try to move. I just listen to her soft giggling.

"Oh... and that nurse asking me out..."

"Prick. Obviously didn't realise I coulda been bleeding to death right next to you."

"Oh, he realised alright." she smirks, flicking hair back from her face as she lifts her head. "Don't you remember, he came to check? I reckon he was hoping that if you had to wait long enough, I'd be young, free and single before he even came off shift!" She tries to laugh, but instead groans, nestling down against my shoulder again, as if she's trying to hide away. "Oh God Dennis, I don't want us to change."

I'm silent for a little too long, cos I don't wanna say anything unless I can say the right thing to Sharon. I still don't know what that is, so let the words tumble out anyway, stupidly hopeful.

"It doesn't, does it?"

She goes rigid, looking frightfully at me, those big, sparkling eyes so desperate to believe me. "Doesn't it? I... I don't know what to do. You always tell me all that." 

And in that next second, she looks as hopeful as she does frightened, my stomach knotting over itself regretfully as I shake my head. "Well, I can't tell you this time cos I don't know either. I'm sorry."

But she looks totally stricken to hear such words and I hate having to watch the tears brimming in her eyes. "Don't say that. This isn't your fault."

I can't humour her. "So why's it feel that way, eh?"

"Because it... changes so much."

I flinch. "You just said you didn't want-"

"And I don't!" she cries out a little too defensively. "But... oh God, that don't mean I know how to stop it."

"You're not making any sense, Sharon." I frown.

"Course I'm not. I don't know how to be any different with you."

"I don't want different." I scowl. "I want us."

But Sharon shakes her head, dismissing me. "Shhh. You can't say that yet."

"Yes I can. I just did."

Sighing softly, Sharon straightens up, nibbling at her lip as she looks over at me. I can feel myself beginning to shiver too. I can tell in her eyes I'm going to hate whatever it is I hear. "Dennis, listen to me, you need to think about this-"

"Nothing to think about."

But she just gives me a deeper look, refusing to believe me. And why the Hell not?

"He's your dad, baby." she stresses, pressing her hands over mine. "That lost part of you, yeah? You are an amazing person, you don't deserve to feel like that. Just get to know him!"

"Why should I?" I demand in a low hiss. "I never had a clue Sharon. He's known my whole life and nothing!"

"But there could be something, don't you see that?"

No darlin', that ain't what I see. I see something totally different. And I hate it.

"You're bailing out..."

She looks at me, horror-struck, but it dies quickly and her eyes glaze over like she didn't hear a word. I know she did, however, because she turns her head away, she mumbles; "That hurt, Dennis."

I lean back against the bench, swinging the bottle lazily by the neck, directing a cold shake of laughter towards the deceptively blue sky, the stormy clouds have evaporated to leave fluffy white streaks. Everything looks so perfect up there right now, and it's such a bloody mess down here. 

As I look back at her, I have to fight the urge to lean forward and shake her, instead demanding; "And you think this don't?"

The words leave her desperately. And I just don't understand, I hate how she's trying so damn hard to convince me. "You've really got a chance here!"

"A chance?" I spit. "Oh for fuck's sake... it ain't a chance at nothing and you know that as well as I do Sharon, so you don't you fuckin' dare dress it up like that, alright, cos it's bollocks!"

"Yeah." she returns icily, reaching over to wrench the vodka from my grip and defiantly drinking down a dangerous measure until she inevitably gags. "Or maybe you're just to scared to try..."

"Jesus Christ!" I mutter hotly, pulling myself up from the bench, looking over at the house I stormed from earlier as I feel the tension build in my chest, my head pounding, sending me half-crazy. Cos all I can think is; That house looks so damn normal. It looks as though people might actually have been happy to live there. 

And yet, as I glance over my shoulder at Sharon, I can feel hot tears pricking in my eyes cos she looks so much like a frightened little girl, wringing her hands, her own tears shaking her quietly as she stares into her lap, never wanting me to see. But sympathy refuses to tug. Because she's trying to deny everything that ever felt right and for what? My sake?

"I'm in love with you, Sharon. You're everything. You seriously reckon I wanna cosy up with Vicki and your old man and play happy families?"

She draws her knees protectively up to her chest, mumbling against them. "I don't know. I'm just saying you could."

"Oh I could." I echo despairingly. "Right. Great. So where do you fit into this pretty little family picture you're painting for me here, Sharon? Where?"

"Please!" she begs, her first sob leaping from her throat. "Stop attacking me! I don't know, OK? I don't know!"

"And d'you know why you don't know?" I ask, a little softer, guilt kicking as I see how upset I've made her. "Because I know you, alright? I know you better than I know myself for fuck's sake. I know every thought that's in your head right now. I know what you'll do when you're angry, what you need when you're upset. Bloody Hell, I even know all the ways you'll do your hair in the morning and even then you'll need another twenty minutes to decide. Who else knows all that, Sharon?"

Cautiously, I sit beside her again on the edge of the bench, pressing my hand over hers as it rests against her knee to nudge her.

"No-one..." she confirms shakily. "But it..."

"It what?" I press. "Suddenly it's wrong? It's dirty?"

Her lip quivers all the more, but I have no faith in that jerk in her neck that says she'd shake her head if only she had the energy.

"Don't lie to me, Sharon. I know you're thinking it."

"Alright. I am. You're my Dad's son, Dennis. You're my brother."

"Never."

"But you are! So this has to stop... m-me and you. And I can't stand it cos I love you so much and I just wish there was somethin' else we could do. I'd do anything for you, y'know that?"

"Yeah?" I murmur doubtfully.

Wiping at her streaming eyes, she nods profusely. "Anything."

"Then marry me."

But she flinches as I hold her hand in mine.

"I mean it." I tell her fiercely. "Let's just go home, today... now."

"Listen to me..." she says tearfully, speaking in the direction of our clasped hands, shaking together. "...it won't matter where we go, this is never gonna be any less true. Den Watts is our father. We're-"

"What?" I demand, pushing her hand away angrily. "Brother and sister?"

She cannot miss how scathingly I say the words. "Maybe." she mumbles, watching the fallen leaves dancing on the ground. "I don't know."

"Is that what you want? That? So... you and me... all this time... it don't mean nothing?"

"Of course it does!" she says defensively. "You know how I feel about you. But I... I just don't think we can."

"But we have!" I argue, blanching at my lip as I prepare my latest confession. "I mean it Sharon. I love you. I've never said that to anyone else in my whole life, y'know that? You are all that matters in this whole fuck up of a world."

She smiles, love burning in her filling eyes like it used to. She reaches and caresses my cheek, her whole hand shaking against my face, but still I savour her touch.

"They're your family, baby. I can't take that from you. I just can't. I couldn't live with myself... I know how much you wanted to find 'em."

But I shake my head my head fiercely. "No. I don't want 'em. Not if I have to lose you. No."

"You wouldn't lose me, Dennis. I'd be right there wouldn't I?"

"Yeah." I agree bitterly. "My sister, right? Hiding by the door, too damn scared to be any closer, to remember. No way Sharon, that isn't what I want from you."

"But what if it can't... be that way anymore?"

"Oh I bet it can't. Daddy's really fucked it up, right?"

And for some completely unbeknown reason, she straightens up, full of the need to defend the bastard, her lips set in a scowl as she looks at me and says; "He didn't want to do this, Dennis."

My cold burst of laughter mocks her words. "Yeah, just like he won't have wanted to do my slut of a mother, eh?"

Sharon looks at me reproachfully. "Do you have to be so disgusting?"

"Oh yeah. It is, therefore I am."

She bristles. "I didn't say that."

But as I lean closer, she shifts away. "Like you needed to. You see?" I stroke strands of her hair behind her ear, noticing she is rigid under the touch of even just my fingertips. "You forget I know you darlin'. Cos right now, I know that how well makes you feel sick..."

She shrugs me off. "I'm not talking about this."

"Why not?" I enquire brightly. "We're always talking about it back home. And if we're not talking about it, we're doing it."

She sighs in exasperation, her shaking hands still covering her face. "Stop it!"

"Why?" I demand, harsher now. "Cos it is wrong, it is dirty?"

"No!" she shrieks, hands flailing as she straightens up. "See? You don't know me at all! Cos you know what I'm thinking right now? What I'm really thinking? That if I could just see it like that, it'd all be so much easier. But I know who you are, I know what you are and nothing's changed! Whatever happens, you won't ever be my brother. I love you... I want you just as much as I did last night, so maybe I am sick. I hate the idea of what I'd become without you, I hate it! And all I can think is... I loved you first. Why does this have to happen when I loved you first?"

And she breaks down in floods of tears, tearing at my already scarred soul. I hold her against me, smoothing down and kissing her hair.

"I don't w-want to stop. I don't, I-"

"Shhh! You don't have to. It's OK, shhh..."

"No.... No..." she protests listlessly, pulling herself up from the bench and wiping her eyes as she paces frantically around the same smallest section of ground. She toys incessantly with her engagement ring, lovingly stroking the surface of each diamond. "Y'know, if I loved you at all, I'd let you have your family. If I loved you at all, I'd stop."

Stop loving me. And leave me with what, baby? I need you...

My stomach crashes down as, sniffling, Sharon starts caressing the band around her finger and with a tearful look at me, fixated with her like I'm watching her commit a murder right in front of my eyes, she starts trying to tugging it off.

"Sharon, no! You can't.... you can't!"

And I leap up to force her hands apart so that she won't succeed. But she screams and loses her balance as she tries to fight me. She slumps against me and my arms instinctively surround her. "Then what do we do? For God's sake, tell me what you want!"

"Sharon, listen!" I plead, no longer fighting the urge to shake her. She splutters in surprise and although her chest still heaves as she regulates her breathing, she shakes a lot less and I can move my hands up, cupping her face to stem her tears as they come from her eyes, stroking them all gently away. "We both know you're no more Den's then you are mine right now, yeah? But darlin', I still want ya. So please, let's just go home and get our licence yeah? Let's get married."

When I got home, I deliberately went straight upstairs, even though I would really have loved some grapefruit juice at the time. Cos I saw Dad slumped there at the kitchen table and I didn't think I'd be able to stop myself going off on one with him and I kinda saw in the way Sharon and Dennis could barely look at each other that that wasn't gonna help until they've talked. And God, I hope they do. Poor Sharon. Fuckin' Hell, I mean I know Mum's always said she's known how to pick 'em and I guess she's right, but can you actually get anymore cruel than this?

It's not like she... either of them knew that they- Jesus Christ, they're not brother and sister. How can anyone think of it like that? They're engaged for God's sake. Or at least they were. Will they still be whenver I see them again? And is it wrong that I hope so. They love each other for God's sake, and Sharon's needed that so much. It's not their fault. And besides, it looked so perfect in all them photos. I'm not gonna pretend that the realisation they're lovers don't make me feel slightly squeasy, but that's pretty much only because I'm considering my big sister's sex life.

I mean, I've heard what she said and considering the state she was in as she told me, how damn terrified Dennis looked as he came over, I don't doubt that it's true. But it's not like I can take it in and declare I have a brother. I mean, I've already got one. What use is another one when that'd make Sharon so damn miserable? Dad deserves a piece of my mind. Where's he get off on doing this to her, to his own son even? Last night, Sharon and Dennis thought they were gonna be so happy, even more so cos Dad gave his permission to this engagement! Sicko! I mean, has he not once caught sight of pictures of Sharon & Dennis together and not even just wondered? He let them come here, totally in love, just to tear them apart with something neither of them ever knew of or wanted!

I crouch at the top of the stairs, listening to him move around, just hoping he feels sick at himself for the way he's made Sharon & Dennis feel over there. If they let each other go for this, the sake of one man that's obviously never cared about his own son, then what exactly have they got without each other? I mean, I'm not saying they're nothing outside their relationship, but I do know it means everything to them. To lose it would kill 'em enough. To have to exist around each other after that for the sake of sharing Dad? They'd be soulless in the end I reckon. And I don't wanna see my sister destroyed.

Chrissie went off to help with the morning's appointments at the feeble way I made my excuses to not go shopping and instead stay in the Square. I told her I was gonna clean out my room and she tried to gauge my temperature by feeling my forehead. I flapped her away and she went off, leaving me to crash pointedly round in my room. But that's all I was doing. I wasn't tidying at all. I was just getting more and more wound up for Sharon and Dennis. I gave up with throwing stuff round my room as soon as I started. So now here I am. And hearing a key twist in the lock of the front door, I shuffle around the banister, hiding myself from sight. 

It's Sharon that comes through and though she looks pretty burdened, I'd say she looks OK. And oh... oh thank God, Dennis is there behind her! It's gotta be a good sign they're together right? And they're talking, quietly between themselves. I can't really hear them, lower myself down a few of the steps as discreetly as I can to hear them better.

"No, look... I have to do it on my own, OK?"

"But... it's about us, isn't it? We should... together?"

Us. Dennis said us. Oh God, my stomach starts to dance hopefully, and just for a second, I close my eyes and whisper soundlessly; "Thank you God."

Sharon slows up, her keys jangling in her hands as she sighs gently. Her heel clicks against the laminate as she turns round to face him. I crane my neck to catch the look in her eye, but I can't see anything and have to rely on Dennis' reaction. To my relief, he seems to be smiling as he looks back at her, however slightly. At least he looks like he might mean it.

"Listen to me... if we're really gonna do this, then it has to come from me, right? Just me."

"Why?" he demands in a hoarse whisper, his hand sliding beneath her arms and curling around each elbow just for an excuse to touch her.

"Cos you said it yourself didn't you eh? You can't just steal away a man's daughter. And that's what I am. I'm Den's daughter. He needs to understand why we need to do this and if you're there too... he's not gonna understand. He's gonna attack. You, probably. And that's never gonna be what I want. I'm trying to protect you, OK?"

"But-"

She silences him with half a breath, pressing one perfectly French manicured fingertip to his protesting lips. "Just understand you have to let me. Trust me?"

Jesus, I don't really know about Dennis in that second, but I'm well aware of my heart beating in my mouth. Cos she's speaking so softly to him, it's like she could steal the words away and scream she never meant them. And yet, whatever he says now, the poor bastard's gotta give her something he just might not have.

But he nods jerkily, his eyes focussed on nothing but her as he bites into his lip. "Mmmm."

"So sit tight. Don't even think of going anywhere and I'll come talk to you in... ten minutes? Work out where we go from here?"

"Yeah."

And smiling again, he steps past her, leaning on the banister, ready to sink down and will away those agonising ten minutes on the bottom stair. But Sharon's hand presses gently over his, stealing his attention for a little while longer.

"I love you..."

And he laughs quietly, stroking across her fingers, her engagement ring still sat proudly on the third. "Yeah, I think I figured that."

"Did ya? Good. Just don't think about anything else, OK? Cos that is all that matters."

Dennis nods again, assuring her wordlessly and she sighs omniously before going towards the kitchen. I heard Dad slam the door about five or ten minutes ago, probably hoping that if Sharon was gonna come back at all, she wouldn't dare to bring her fiancé with her! She goes through and closes the door against with a soft, torturous click. I sit there and listen for a few seconds, head tilted against the banister. Dennis don't really sound like he's breathing right, just sat there on the stair, biting anxiously on his knuckle, most probably straining to hear what he can of the conversation going on in the kitchen without him.

Sympathy kicks. Poor bastard never asked for any of this. Carefully, quietly, I slide down a few more of the stairs, coming closer and closer to him.

"Dennis?" I whisper cautiously, half standing to move down and sit beside him on the stair.

He flinches but moves round slowly, apparantly not surprised at my appearance. He pulls his hands back and with a weak smile, murmurs; "Hi kid."

"D'you want me to go? Or could you use the company?"

He laughs dismissively. "I ain't sure you'd want my company right now, Vicks."

I smile. I really like how he does that. He's done it ever since the first time Sharon passed the phone over to him about four months after they started seeing each other. Called me Vicks. No-one else does that.

"Yeah well, you don't look much you wanna be on your own either, so d'you mind if I stick around?"

He shrugs his shoulders, not saying a word. So I bite into my lip, steeling myself and take the plunge, laying my hand against his arm.

"You don't need to be so nervous."

This next burst of laughter is low and bitter. "I was nervous enough when we left Miami. Kinda knew he'd wanna tear me apart, y'know? But I never... not like this! I am sorry, Vicki."

I bristle, perplexed. "What are you apologising to me for?"

"Cos Sharon was right. It don't matter what any of us do now, it's still not any less true is that? He's my dad."

I huff. "Don't seem to me he's ever acted like one towards you."

"Nah." he agrees, hands covering his mouth again. "But at least I know where me bloody name comes from now eh? Always hated it."

I can't help but laugh quietly, hugging my knees to my chest. "Yeah, well, we're not exactly original with names in this family, Dennis, don't worry. Dad's always called Sharon Princess, well, cos that's what Sharon means apparantly. I can't remember the last time I actually heard him call her by her name. I don't think he likes it. Apparantly he and Angie tried to give her a different name, y'know when they brought her home after the adoption was finalised? Wanted to call her Laura or Louise or something, really make her their own. But she was three by then, too used to being called Sharon, so... that was that. I guess he just ignores it."

"Does a lot of that, don't he, Den? Ignoring people?"

"Yeah, you could definitely say that see as neither Sharon or me heard a word from him in fourteen years. But yeah, he was supposed to be dead, so I see how that one mighta been a bit weird. Like my name too, see?"

His facial muscles scrunch in confusion as he blinks. "What?"

"Vicki. Victoria." I grimace. "As in the Queen Victoria?"

"The pub across the road?"

I nod reluctantly. "Yeah, I was conceived somewhere in there while my mum was still in school uniform. I don't like to think where."

Dennis laughs at my horrified expression and leans in towards my ear, whispering teasingly; "Up against the bar I expect."

"Oh piss off!" I yelp, shoving him lightly against the banister. "It's just... I seriously don't know how Sharon never worked out I was Dad's too. Mum says she went mental when she told her."

"Yeah well, I think I would too."

His smile fading upon delivery, we sit there for a few seconds in silence, Dennis turning anxiously towards the kitchen door, still firmly shut, again and again. I suppose he don't quite know whether to be worried or relieved he can't hear any raised voices just yet.

"It'll be alright, y'know." I tell him bravely.

"You reckon? Look Vicki... I know how different you must see it all now-"

"No you don't."

He winces. "But with Sharon... I just... I don't want different. I don't."

"Good."

Dennis reels back a little, blinking in surprise, hardly daring to laugh. "What?"

"Look, no offence Dennis, but I don't have a vacancy for a brother. I've already got me one back home in the States and he's enough of a pain in the arse as it is. And I know with you and me, it's suddenly like we've got blood in common and everything, but what did we know about that? I only know you for what you are."

"You still know what that is?" he asks, impressed.

"Yeah, sure. You're my sister's fiancé, aren't ya?"

"Ummm..." Dennis wrings his his hands in his lap, laughing nervously. "I think I was last time I checked, yeah."

"And when did you last check?"

"About five minutes ago."

"So you're gonna...?"

"Escape to Vegas?" he finishes, smirking. "Yeah, probably!"

"No!" I gasp in horror, whacking him repeatedly on the arm with both of my hands. "I said no Vegas! No!"

But Dennis just laughs as he fends me off and at last it sounds like he means it. "You do make a great little sister y'know. You're brilliant."

"Yeah well, I reckon I'll be a better in-law." He grins and I feel the same happen upon my lips as I feel his hand drop through mine and I squeeze it tight, draining the colour from his knuckles. "See? It's not like we don't wanna know each other is it? I reckon you're brilliant too. I don't think I've ever seen Sharon so happy, you're good for her. I don't think anything else matters right now, does it?"

He pushes a doubting breath from out between his pursed lips, twisting to look at the kitchen door again. "Well, I dunno yet, do I?"

"I think you do, Dennis."

The corners of his lips flickering, they dare to give way to a smile, and he squeezes my hand back. "I swear to you, Vicks, I'll make her happy."

"I know. So while you're at it, you reckon you could do all the brother type stuff for me?"

"I was planning to anyway, darlin'. Yeah, I'll be the guy slipping you cash when Sharon ain't looking, roughing up your exes for a bit of entertainment right?"

"Exactly." I beam. "What do we need with blood eh?"

Dennis shrugs. "Dunno, you looking for a transfusion?"

I bow my head, laughing. "No, I don't think so."

"Yeah well, you ever are, you know where I am right?"

"Got it."

"Just don't go getting alcohol poisioning just to take me up on that though right, cos as much as I think of ya, Vicks, I fuckin' hate needles."

"Me too! Yeah, that's my excuse for never going home to Mum. Can't stand jabs. I end up crying like a total wuss in the waiting room!"

"Yeah well, I-"

"Dennis?"

We both stop, rigid. The stairs creak as we both turn nervously to see Sharon step out of the kitchen, shaking a little as she walks, hands laced as she fumbles again with her engagement ring. We both leap up as soon as we have taken in that image, me going on step up so Dennis can pass one down and answer her. I can still see Dad, stood in the kitchen doorway, looking grey and sour. I pray Dennis choices not to see. He has better things to concentrate on right now. Me, no, so I stand there on the stairs, my hands pressed flat against the wall and my lip curled as I glare at my father. He is not going to hurt them. I just won't let him.

"Y-Yeah?" Dennis answers nervously, pulling his hand from the banister to step towards her. His approach looks as though it frightens and relieves Sharon all at once. But she adjusts quickly to his closeness and cradles his hands in hers for a moment.

"You won't question me will you?"

He understands the question as little as I do so says nothing, smiling nervously as Sharon's shivering palms case his face and she stretches up to kiss him. Lightly, but her lips have barely left his when she's kissing him deeper, deeper still. I smile proudly. Hell, she'd never choose to kiss her little brother like that. I think I've gotten me a brother-in-law.

"What was that for?" Dennis murmurs gently, stroking across her cheekbone.

And my sister nibbles guiltily at her lip. "I had to be sure. Now I am. That's it. Let's go home."

 
I flinch as my father clears his throat commandingly from the kitchen doorway. Dennis' arms feel as though they have become tighter around me simply through instinct. Vicki's smile seems to have fallen right from her face as she stands against the wall, scowling as a defiant look makes its way to our father. But I don't think he sees her. He's just looking right at me, pale and... incensed I think. I mean, he spoke to me calmly enough, there was no shouting, no raised voices. But he spoke to me as if she despaired of my notions, like I really was still his girl. And I'm not. I'm more than that now. I'm Dennis' fiancée. 

Dad's never going to say he's happy for me and I know it. Never. But I'll never apologise for loving Dennis. We fell innocently. The truth of it isn't going to make me let go. I'd rather be called sick in the head every day for the rest of my life than contemplate spending a day without him. I've lived enough of them and I've hated them, but at least I've always known there was no doubt he was coming home to me. To be completely without him, I'd be half a person.

"Princess, can we talk a little more, please?"

"No." I say firmly, my hand curled around Dennis' arm as I turn to face my dad. "Anything you need to say you can say to all of us."

He sighs heavily. He'd obviously have preferred a quiet word of dissausion in my ear behind closed doors.

"You can't stop them getting married Dad." Vicki says bluntly from the stairs before he has a chance to say a word.

But his eyes burn angry as he lifts his head up to look at her and the words come to him quickly enough as he hisses; "Oh, and that's what you want is it? Your brother and sister married off, turning this family into some freakshow?"

"Oh for God's sake!" she laughs coldly, rolling her head back against the wall. "You actually think this'll work! They're not my brother and sister. Dennis didn't come here to be my brother, he hasn't chosen to be your son! His only choice was Sharon, can't you see that? Just because I happen to be his sister... you think I'll ask him to give up on Sharon, to just love me, care about me? I'm not that selfish Dad, and I won't be just to help you out either. I just want Sharon to be happy."

I feel a sob of gratitude shake me. I really thought her opinion would have been rockier than Dad's. Because Dennis is, there's no escaping it - he's Vicki's brother. Blood binds them now it seems. And yet there she stands, appearing stronger than I could ever hope to be, wishing for me to be happy when this is the poor girl that has been forced to live with me through my lowest and most miserable times. Maybe that's how she sees how much Dennis means to me.

"Why can't you just congratulate them, Dad huh?" She comes heavily down the stairs, her hand brushing over Dennis' sleeve. He seems to have as much admiration in his eyes for her right now as I do. But there's something different there too. It's as though he understands her. "He... He's a guy you've known nothing about for the last thirty years - and you did that through choice by the way, so that'll never excuse you - but he's the guy that makes Sharon happy, you know he is. You've seen the photos, you read all the letters when me and Chrissie were done. They have something special, Dad - don't ask them to give it up for something that's your fault. They love each other, and God knows what the odds are on that ever happening but they do. Sharon don't deserve to be heartbroken again Dad, and if you do that to her with this, then she ain't the only one that'll never forgive you."

I bite into my lip as I watch her come down the stairs. "Sweetheart..." I begin weakly, but somehow, she manages to silence me with a glance, the venom in her shimmering eyes meant only for our dad's attention.

"You really want to risk losing all three of your kids for this Dad? Just let them be happy. Who are they hurting?"

But the look he gives her is true murder. I blanch at my lip and step slowly away from Dennis, taking up my dad's hand instead, feeling it shake desperately as I hold it in mine, his knuckles deathly white. I look him in the eye and shake my head slowly.

"You're not going to answer that now, Dad."

Dennis seems to scowl instinctively. "No, c'mon, let him say what-"

I don't mean to snap. It just comes out. "Dennis, for God's sake. I said it has to come from me." Then I sigh heavily, noticing too how my dad reels. "I'm sorry Dad. I guess you're right. Go make another coffee eh, I'll be through in five seconds." 

He seems pretty motionless as I stretch up and brush his cheek, but sighs heavily as he heads back towards the kitchen, his dark eyes most definitely upon me the whole time. 

I try and shake off that feeling of being watched as I reach across and place my hand over Dennis'. "I didn't mean to- I... Dennis, this isn't easy on him. We haven't really talked. I just told him how it was going to be."

"Well, good."

"No!" I sigh, exasperated. "Do you have any idea how hard it was? "Oh thanks Dad, I know you've loved me for nearly all my life, but y'know what, I'd sooner be your son's wife than your daughter, bye!" I can't... I can't be that callous. We do need to talk, my dad and me. Just... have a bit of faith in me, yeah?"

"You're scaring me, Sharon." he returns honestly, eyes shimmering in a way that illustrates the fact.

I smile wryly, squeezing his hand a little. "Yeah well, if it's any consolation, I don't feel all that sorted at the moment either. But we will be, OK? Just give me some time, that's all."

And I step back towards the kitchen, turning away. And as I do so, I catch sight of Vicki, out the corner of my eye, dropping down a step and cautiously nestling against Dennis' shoulder as she stands behind him. But he smiles softly as he feels her there, squeezing her hand as it rests against his shoulder. My stomach drops. I'm actually looking at a real brother and sister. Somewhere inside comes the tiniest stab of jealousy. I thought everything Dennis had to give belonged to me. But the truth is, he's never gonna love me in the way he appears to be falling in love with his little sister. And I think I might really be that selfish that I suddenly want it all. I want it all from this one man. My God, he's sent me half crazy.

But they haven't seen me. They can console each other. And me, alone in this madness my fiancé has unknowingly bestowed, all I have is my father's questions. And I have to answer them, flawlessly, or I'm gonna be more alone than I could ever bear.

Shaking slightly, I close the door firmly after myself for the second time, turn and lean heavily against the sink.

"Sugar, Princess?" Dad gestures weakly, the jar open, a teaspoon in his other hand. 

I shake my head dismissively and he clicks the lid back into place and begins to incessantly stir his sugar loaded coffee. It grates.

"Do you want him, Dad?"

I feel his gaze shift. But he doesn't say a word. I turn round and look straight into his unregistering eyes, somehow wishing I could recognise one flicker of emotion in my sweetheart's name.

"Do you want Dennis to be your son?"

"Of all the stupid questions-"

But I force my eyes shut, refusing to take in the way he rolls his eyes so dismissively. But I cannot stop myself curling my hands into infuriated fists. "It's not a stupid question! I could lose everything that matters to me for this, Dad, don't you understand that?" I look desperately, counting off my possible losses on my fingertips. "I could give up my best friend, my lover, my future and you might not even want him, when anyone, anywhere would be lucky to have him as a son. He's perfect Dad and you're the only one that's never bothered to see that when he's your flesh and blood. No bit of paper anywhere is ever gonna make me the same, Daddy."

Fire flares in his eyes. I'm well aware I've gone long jumping over the mark, but what else was I supposed to do?

"What are you saying, Princess?" he demands coldly.

I swallow down my guilt.

"That I love him. And I know this should probably change things, but it doesn't. I just want to be with him and I'm sorry if it's not within you to accept us Dad, but we never did any of this. Neither of us asked... to be born even."

His next breath sounds painfully sharp, makes me wince. I see in his eyes I couldn't have hurt him anymore. But I'm hurting too.

"Were your mum and me really that awful to you, Sharon? Is that what Ange and me are worth to you as parents?"

"Don't try and twist this. It isn't about me, it's about Dennis. And yeah, that is all you're worth because... you and Paula, neither of you were any sort of parent. And as much as I love as my dad, I hate you as Dennis'. All he's ever wanted to know is what... who made him. He makes like it doesn't matter, but Dad, it does. I knew I belonged, I had you and Mum, two whole parents, when you were there and the odd occassion Mum could be sober. But Dennis... he's never had any identity. So I need to know Dad, I need to know what you want him to be. Because I won't let go unless you can promise me you'll give him everything he's ever deserved. Because you know one thing I've learnt since I met him? We deserve each other. Not in a bad way either. No, the best way. You don't know what it means to me to know I make him happy. And I won't stop, I won't be made to stop unless you can swear to me you can do that for him too. Either be his dad, or say I can be his wife. Cos one's gonna happen Dad, no matter what you say. So I suggest you say something." 

I don't quite know what the girl expects. There's a dangerous look in her eye, that's for sure. But what is there for me to say? I've given her the truth and because she and that ludicrous boy won't accept it, I'm supposed to turn around say "No Princess, that's fine, you go off and marry your brother. Don't worry about me, it saves on speeches don't it eh, what with being the father of both the bride and groom."

Just thinking of everything their so-called "relationship" implicates, rage and ill-feeling burn. And I want to lay it all at Dennis' door. I want to believe that he did all the chasing, all the pushing. But I know my daughter's confidence. And anyway, Vicki's right. I have read the letters. Some of them were definitely written specifically for her eyes only. I still haven't recovered from the one that detailed Sharon's first night with Dennis. And that was back when he was just a man. No more. And to think that... that went on between my daughter and my son, to sit here and be told the two of them want it all to continue... well, they've lost their minds!

I throw my chair back and turn towards the door, pulling it open and looking out into the hall. Again, Vicki seems to step up a little too defensively beside Dennis, whose eyes narrow just as the sight of me. I give the smallest shake of the head and mutter; "Best get in here then boy..."

He does take a few steps forward as Vicki thunders back up the stairs, the light brighter across his face as he comes towards the kitchen, head held slightly to the side, that bastard smirk still in place on his lips. How is it, now I've admitted the truth of this whole mess, he seems to rile me all the more?

"Seriously Den, I'd love to know who the fuck you think you're talking to..."

"Oh I think we all know that now don't we... son?"

"Get bent." he sneers, shaking his head in dismissal, moving straight past me to go to Sharon. She barely manages a smile as she looks back at him, but the little creep won't be deterred, his hands sweeping up her arms and cupping her jaw, his thumbs stroking across her jawline. Eurgh, my stomach really is wrung with nausea now.

"Are you alright?" he murmurs to her, sounding nervous with it, even as she, weakly admittedly, tries to reassure him with another flickering smile as she nods. "Wh-What's he said?"

"Nothing new..."

"Right." Dennis concedes, sounding a little more confident as he turns to face me. "So can we go now or what?"

"Don't mess with us Dad, please." Sharon pleads in a broken whisper. "I've told you how I feel. This is the way we want it."

"You know what Princess, I'm not too sure..."

"Ain't you that needs to be." Dennis snaps, fiercely gripping Sharon's hand.

"No." I tilt my head forward in agreement. "It's you."

And he bristles. "I'm sorted thanks mate."

"You sure? Because I'm not your mate Dennis, I'm your father."

He smiles sarcastically. "Well, tell you what, old man, you work on that, and I'll reconsider ya in another thirty years eh?"

I blink, taking all he throws. "You only get one shot at being a dad, Dennis." I tell him with a small sigh.

"That's you screwed then i'n't it Den?"

"Don't be so damn flippant. There's only one of me, boy, the only father you or-" My gaze settles decidedly on Sharon. "-your sister are ever going to have."

Biting into the cushion of her bottom lip, Sharon looks away in disgust, inadvertently squeezing Dennis' hand tighter through spasm. "Don't, Dad..."

"Why?" I demand coldly. "Why not?"

"Because that's never what we're going to be!" she yells back in frustration, the force of her tears shaking her as they pour from her eyes. "I know your argument OK, we both do! You're our dad, so it's not right, it's- but, Dad, it is! Things always happen for a reason don't they? And this... it's love Dad, alright? Guess it's true though, it's gotta be blind hasn't it?"

"And what-" I press with interest. "-would make you say that, Princess?"

"Oh for God's sake-" Dennis despairs in her place. "-neither of us are stupid alright? If you'd ever had the nerves to open your trap..."

"...before you started thinking with your trousers you mean?"

He smirks, definitely humoured as the laugh escapes him. "Well at least we've got that in common then eh? Otherwise, what were this Michelle and your Vicki, Den? Action replay?"

"You best watch your mouth..." I warn him in a growl.

"Don't tell him... not too big to go over your knee? God, you make me laugh."

I roll my eyes despairingly, muttering quietly; "And to think I actually wanted a son."

That silences the cocky bastard, leaving him to shudder in uncertainty as he looks over at Sharon.

"That's not what you said to me..." she protests shakily.

"That's cos it ain't true." Dennis answers, sounding as though he's trying to assure himself more than anyone. "C'mon Den, you chose Sharon didn't ya? You know what, that's gotta be hard."

"No." I answer immediately, passing my daughter a loving look that seems to confuse her. "Sharon was the best choice of my life."

"Mmmm, mine too." he says without hesitation. "But that's the thing isn't it? She was a choice. Neither of us made her. Neither of us have got the right to break her. So don't try."

"Me?" I laugh, the sound hollow. "Take me through that one again Dennis. I'm her father-"

"No you ain't."

"I'm sorry?" I question savagely, daring the little bastard to repeat himself.

"Oh, you heard me alright. That's the bit that cuts ain't it? Cos me, yeah I'm here and you say you're my dad. Maybe I have to accept that, or maybe I just won't, whatever. The point is, it ain't your blood inside her. That's all the law needs to know. It don't matter what you think of it, Den, or of me. There is no reason Sharon and I shouldn't get married. That's what we're gonna do, yeah? None of this matters. Feel how you wannna about Sharon, mate, I won't stop ya. Personally, I couldn't give a toss if I never saw you again, you got some fucking nerve pullin' all this "dad" bollocks on me now..."

"Well maybe now's my last chance, you ever thought of that?"

"Mmmm." he muses with a smirk. "Convenient though i'n't it? I mean, if it didn't just so happen I'm engaged to your daughter, and yes, I am, you'd never have even admitted I existed, would ya? Not even to yourself, never mind come looking for me and trying to be my dad. You're throwing everything at me, and so you should man, but it don't change nothing. You don't miss what you never had. I don't matter to you cos I'm your son. All you see is this threat. And I ain't trying t'steal her away, Den. I just wanna love her too, that's all. And I will, whether or not you like it, cos there's nothing you can do to stop us, alright?"

I bite into my lip as I sink heavily back onto my chair by the table. I despise not being in control. I detest it.

"I don't suppose there is, Dennis, no. You and my Sharon can go and do whatever. But there's just one thought that's making me queasy enough to believe neither of you two have even dared to think about."

"Go on then..." he says, giving out a bored little sigh. "...hit us with it."

"One in three marriages end in divorce, did you know that?"

"Is that it? That's what's making you queasy? Wow, you've got a weak stomach."

"Shut up and listen." I snap.

But it's Sharon, in her shaky tone, that finds the courage to speak out over me. "I've already been divorced, Dad, you know that. I've had my one in God knows how many disasters. This isn't going to be like that!"

"I wish I could share your optimism, Princess."

"Oh you lying shit." Dennis scoffs angrily. "You wanna tear us apart at the seams! And it ain't happening, you get that?"

I ignore his words, direct my own straight into his thunderous eyes. "What happens when the love story warps eh? When the ball and chain get a bit too heavy? You'll never escape each other after this, not now. We're all part of the same family and even if you couldn't give a monkey's about me sunshine, you gonna walk out on your little sister now you know the truth? I mean, she's all for this wedding right? But... what if? You are still always going to be Vicki's brother. So how you gonna explain that she weren't enough to bother with when the wife became the ex?"

Sharon's voice shakes with tears and she regretfully dislodges her hand from Dennis' to wipe at her eyes. "Why are you talking like this, Daddy? Why won't you give us a chance? Please!"

But I shake my head in refusal, explaining; "Princess, if he ever hurt you..."

"I love her!"

"...then you'd never have a new start, either of you. That ain't what I want."

"What about what we want?" she yells, stamping her foot in frustration as her eyes fill. And it cuts at me, but I still haven't explained myself.

"Well exactly." I nod. "And what was what you want built from hmmm? Any offers?"

"You've lost it." Dennis scowls, wrapping his arms round Sharon and holding her just a little too close as she fights to settle her breathing.

"Says the man whose love for his own sister is entirely sexual. Yep. And that's shallow, cheap and it's fragile too. And if the two of you break, then where's that leave my family eh?"

"No..." Sharon whimpers, shaking her head as she rests it against Dennis' chest. "Shut up, shut up, shut up! I'm not listening, you can't make me listen!"

But I just keep talking, knowing that the poor tortured girl can do little else.

"That's what makes me queasy. The idea that a brother and sister can... do what you've been doing. In... In the same bed..."

"But we didn't know!" Sharon screams out tearfully. "We should have done, Daddy and that's your damn fault, but it's too late. Too late to change anything we feel, to stop it. Because we know we're in love. We both felt it happening Dad, it was real, and right now, it's all that's right. And you know what, you've definitely answered my question. You don't want him as a son, cos he's right. If we weren't engaged then you'd still be living a lie, pretending he don't exist and he's better than that! He's not just your dirty little secret, he's my fiancé, that's all he needs to be. Cos it'll never end, it'll never be over. Dennis and I are meant and all you can think about is sex! I guess that figures given that you knocked up the babysitter eh? God help me Dad I love you, but this isn't our mistake. We can't be blamed... or punished for falling in love. So don't try or one day, you're gonna look round and see how desperately lonely you are. Don't let that happen. Just let us go. Please."

Her eyes shimmer with fresh tears as she nestles down against Dennis, needing his reassurances as the words leave her in all entirety, taking the last of her words. I tear my eyes away, hiding my frustrated fists beneath the table, staring at the same spot on the surface, unable to say a word. Losing all control. Losing.

And somehow, somewhere, it is my drained daughter that finds the strength to fill the heavy silence with her own quivering words. The last ones I could have wanted to hear. "Well, um... we have packing to do... bye Dad." 

Sharon moves past me quickly, but I see it. The way her dull lips are turned down, the way she's fighting that pressure against her throat with all that's inside her. The tears are glistening on the surface of her devestated eyes, but she's not going to let them fall here. I'm half a step behind her. I don't care about Den. I could have done once, not long ago, but the truth is... well, the truth lost out the second I met Sharon. It isn't gonna matter what I do, I love her and could never pretend to feel anything less than that. It'd kill me. Not unlike this seems to be killing her.

Going quietly into Sharon's old room, she doesn't even notice me in the doorway. I'm there, just watching her. And it's killing me. Cos she's there, the holdall unzipped and caved in at its emptiness. She's folding every top, every skirt really carefully, but her hands are shaking. In fact, all of her's shaking, cos she's crying as she goes. I bite back a pained sigh and move further into the room, standing a little behind her as I question softly; "You OK?"

She nods fiercely, and therefore is a little too desperate to convince, forcing a smile to her lips that just don't seem to fit right now. And she already knows I'll know that and the pressure in her throat seems to swell uncomfortably and she's reduced to taking her words back, shaking her head miserably as she turns round. I pull her immediately into my arms, but she seems to cry harder, however silently she's doing it. Cos I can hear her ragged breathing, I can feel her heart pounding two or three times faster than must be normal.

"It's OK." I soothe in a whisper as I hold her. "I'm here... it's alright."

But maybe it isn't. And maybe that's exactly why.

"Why does it have to be like this?"

I bite into my lip, so many answea ready for her, yet none of them fair or kind. Defeatedly, I go with the truth, murmuring into her sweet smelling hair; "I guess it wouldn't have mattered who I am..."

She seems to gasp frightfully and I'm inwardly cursing myself as she straightens up and sinks heavily back onto the bed. The holdall bounces a little on top the duvet, but she's looking too miserably into her lap, tugging at her hands to notice. But then, bravely, she lifts her head and looks right at me, her beautiful eyes still brimming with tears.

"I'm so scared."

Not exactly needing to question why, I look down too, picking my way across the half a yard of carpet to settle myself cautiously next to her.

"We'll be OK."

"I don't want to be OK. I just want us to be like we were. You mean the world to me, y'know that? I love you and I'm not ever gonna stop either, but... we can't pretend it's no different now. Because it is."

My argument's struggling to even leave my throat and I thought I truly had one. And yet, nothing.

"In theory, it all works. I love you... you love me, so screw the rest of the world, right? Fine, I'll go with that. But, in practice? We're not the same anymore, baby."

"So, what?" I press, unable to ignore the truly sickened feeling swirling up a storm in my stomach.

"I don't know. And I don't know because... what is this? Circumstancial?"

"It don't matter." I insist. "And it don't matter cos I need ya. You're the only one I've ever needed Sharon, you know that? I can't let you go for anything."

Her smile looks slightly more sincere as she reaches across, her hand a little more steady as she presses it tenderly to my face, confessing in a stunned sounding whisper; "I'd hate to be without you."

I press my hand comfortingly over hers and draw it back, dropping my fingertips through. "Then that's all there is to it."

Again, she tries to smile, but this time, she really can't humour me. "No. Dennis, what if it feels different?"

I frown in confusion. But I understand really. I just don't want to. "What could possibly- you mean sex."

"I mean everything. Dennis, you can put the ring on my finger but... are we really gonna be happy? Will we really be able to walk down the street, holding hands without thinking about this?"

"Yes."

"Alright. Kissing in the pub, grossing out all our friends before they even know the truth?"

"We are the truth. Look, Sharon, if you don't want me anymore-"

She seems to shudder and I feel even more sick. "Want you?" she whispers, her eyes glistening with terror. "Yeah, that's the bit that scares me the most. Cos I do. And if you don't you know that, then you've been somewhere else these last two years."

"Yeah, well it was definitely a better place than this."

"Exactly. Ignorance is bliss an' all that. But... what if we had known eh? Known before we met? Would it still have happened like this?"

"You mean, would we still have-?"

"Fallen in love? Slept together? Mmmm."

"I don't know." I confess honestly, hating that I can't keep it back. "But I'm not regretting any of it. I never will."

"I didn't say I regretted it." she insists shakily. "I wanna go forward with you, you know I do, but it's breaking my heart right now and I don't know what I did wrong!"

"It's not about what you did wrong. We just... found each other!"

She looks frightened by the force of my words. "Were we supposed to?"

"Yes."

Sighing gently, she clasps my hand like her life depends on it. "How can you be sure?"

"Cos there was nothing before you. Because I love you... and I've never meant that before. Cos you make me happy and I... I wanna do the same for you. And if I have to beg you Sharon, I will. I'll do anything. But when I proposed to you, I was kinda hoping I'd get a wedding out of it, you driving me crazy for months, talking about dresses and flowers? I'd make out like you were doing me head in but Sharon, I want that so much."

"What you saying, baby?" She smiles faintly as she leans in, her voice a teasing whisper. "Please Sharon, marry me and spend the rest of our lives doing me head in?"

I nod gently and lean in closer, stroking her fringe back from her eyes. "That's exactly what I'm saying. I don't wanna be without you. I want it to be you and me... til we're old and grey. Or until you make me go grey with the amount you spend on shoes. But I won't care. I'll build ya wardrobe after wardrobe just for the bloody things..."

Her lips curve in humour. "Don't make me promises you won't keep, eh? I thought "forsaking all others" was gonna be hard enough."

My hands cupping her jaw, I draw her closer, kissing her crown. "Not gonna be easy. But we'll do it darlin', me and you. I swear to God we'll make it."

"Who's God these days, Dennis?"

"Whoever's signing our marriage licence."

Straightening up, she flickers her hair back, smiling weakly. "It really matters to you don't it?"

"I thought it mattered to us?"

"Us..." Sharon breathes, like she's terrified of the word. Tears are welling in her eyes again, her voice shivering. "We're... good together, aren't we?"

"Good? We're the best, darlin'. I thought you knew that."

She hunches her shoulders apologetically. "I hate doubts. I hate them so much."

"So don't have any." I plead, squeezing her hand. "Please... just trust me like you used to."

"It's not that I don't trust you. I don't trust what I'm feeling. I love you so much and now it's like... I can't."

I scoot closer, taking up her other hand too and holding them both fiercely in my own. "Did I say you can stop? Did I say I'd ever be alright without you? I need you. Yeah, it's a shocker, but it doesn't change us, we can't let it. We can't let it cos what's between us is real! Whatever Den did, whatever he makes us, we built what we've got. And I know this is horrible, but there's no blood between us darlin', nothin' apart from what we want!"

I raise my thumb, stroking it across the diamonds of her engagement ring.

"Is this what you want?"

"That depends." she shoots back with a soft laugh. "Are you really gonna build me a wardrobe?"

"I'll give it a go. Right after I've done the bed. Our bed. And I'm gonna lie in it, next to you and I ain't gonna think of nothing apart from how gorgeous you are, how much I love ya. And if I manage to get the ring on your finger before then, then so much the better. I will make you happy."

"You already do. I just wish it didn't cost so much."

"Oh c'mere..."

"No time." she mumbles, even as she nestles down against me. "We're supposed to be packing. Wedding to plan, all that."

"You had me scared for a while there, baby."

"Well, shut up being scared and hold me. And don't you dare let go til we're outside that courthouse."

I can't help but laugh. "Put your foot down why don't ya?"

My teasing seems to put a new kinda flame inside her. She pulls herself up out of my arms and carries on folding up her clothes with a new kind of vigour.

"Damn right I will. If we're really gonna do this... if we're gonna get married, let's go home and do it before the end of the week. Let's show him."

I got straight on the phone to Chrissie when Sharon & Dennis went upstairs. I'd heard Sharon fighting their corner in the kitchen with Dad, heard her say she was packing her bags to go home to Miami and marry Dennis. My heart was going like crazy, but it was only as they moved past me on the stairs, where I'd been crouched like a frightened little girl listening to her parents have their very last fight, that; Dennis smiling at me so weakly, because he too was well aware of the way tears were shining in Sharon's dull eyes. I winced in sympathetic pain for them both as I straightened up to let them pass. I glanced quickly towards the kitche, Dad was making no effort to move, beaten now. 

So I dived for my phone outta my pocket. 

"Chrissie-" I gasped, hardly giving the call itself time to connect. "Sharon & Dennis are leaving."

"What? How can they be- Vicki, don't be ridiculous, they only just-"

"If I told you why, you wouldn't believe me!"

But she sighs heavily, obviously knowing what that means. "What's your bloody father gone and done now?"

Swallowing down my nerves, anxious that Dad might hear, I fall abckwards against the stairs, lifting myself further and further up. "He... He's Dennis' dad."

And she laughs. I'd so love to do that now. But I can't. Cos I know the truth and I know what it's costing my sister.

"They're going back to Miami and they're going ahead with the wedding. And Dad... just don't understand why."

"Wow." Chrissie stammers. "I'm not all that sure I-"

"They love each other. I don't want Sharon to be miserable and Dennis shouldn't have to give her up on account of a father that never wanted him. Just please... come and say goodbye. Be happy for 'em."

There's a pause. And then comes my step-mum's soft bright voice. "You're a good girl, Vicki, you know that?"

I laugh gently. "Honestly don't know where I got that from."

"Me either babe but- I'm coming home now OK? Don't let them leave."

"It's alright. They're still packing.... talking."

"And your dad?"

"Sulking. But he can't do this to 'em, Chrissie. They didn't ask for it to work out like this. They're gonna make their own decisions."

"Hmmm. Not unlike that bastard husband of mine eh? I've just left the salon babe, I'll be literally two seconds."

I nibble at my lip to keep back a sight, lifting my hand to curl around the banister to pull myself up again. "OK. Bye."

I hang up and listen to the nothingnes that surrounds me. Dad, wallowing in his misery because, finally, his precious Princess has grown up, moved on, with the backbone to protect herself from the fact Dad always wanted to keep her as his baby. So it hardly matters that Dennis is his son, maybe not even that I am his daughter. I know I'll never match up to Sharon. But I could still be his little girl if he wanted me to be. Just... no. I'll never have what Sharon had with our dad. Sometimes, it's hard not to resent that, but then, look at today. He wanted so much to suffocate her love for Dennis. How cruel is that? Maybe it's just as bad that Dennis was equally as unwilling to give Sharon up, but any idiot (yes, that is directed at the groom's father!) could see that despite how much it turned her mind, her certanities inside out, she couldn't but love Dennis, want to be loved by him as fiercely as ever.

Oh, if they'd known, then I'd think differently. But the two of them, they're helpless. They didn't know there was so much against their love. Oh, how could, Dad, Chrissie and I have let it play out for so long when somewhere, somehow, Dad must have had hi suspicions. Why would he do this to her now when it was all she wanted for us to be happy for her, send her off to her future with the man she loved and a smile.

She's never really wanted all that much, my sister. Who has the right to take it away when it's only just going right for her? Dad could stand there, shout that they are brother and sister a million times and it could never be true. They're never going to feel that way about one another. I like that Dennis feels that way about me, but Sharon? How is that supposed to fit after the way they have been together? To tear them apart now and to force them to feel something they never will? It's cruel and I already know that all it would mean is that my family would fall apart around me. I'd lose my sister to heartbreak eventually and I'd never see my... brother... again. I don't care what it is I must call him, as long as he stays to make my sister this happy always.

So lost in thought, I almost lose my balance as Chrissie's key twists in the lock. The corners of her lips are turned down into a frown as she sees me, leaning around the staircase a little to catch sight of Dad, no longer hunched against the table in such despair, instead, up on his feet and no doubt welcoming her return with nothing but suspicion. Chrissie peels off her jackets and hooks it over the end of the banister. She looks up at me and I can tell by the look in her eyes how desperately she wants to doubt what we have spoken about.

"Please babe-" she says calmly, shaking her head a little. "-please say you're joking. Everything was so... right here this morning."

I shrug. "I guess it just clicked, y'know?"

"The babysitter though?" Chrissie grimaces. "I mean, I know your dad and I have had our fair share of- but if he'd ever cheated on me with the babysitter, he'd have been out on his ear faster than she coulda said "ten pound an hour"!"

I can't help but laugh quietly at that. But it all seems to sink in a little harder for Chrissie and she collects herself together, heading towards the kitchen. As she goes, I rush back down the staircase again, leaning over the banister. I'm just in time to see (and hear) her slap him hard across the face.

"You fool, Dennis Watts!" she seethes.

"Oh that's it!" he snaps back testily. "Have a go at me why don't ya?"

"Who else is there? Or is just too easy for you to go laying all the blame on Dennis' mum now the poor bitch's dead?"

He doesn't say anything, scowling. Chrissie however, has plenty to say.

"Have you even stopped to think why Sharon's going ahead and marrying Dennis? Why he's marrying her? The truth is Den, they don't need you! Neither of them do. They need each other. They're in love, not that I, or Angie or Paula come to that, expect you to have any idea what that means. You'll never be enough Dennis Watts. Your daughter idolises you and all you can do is tear her away from the man she loves. She's a bloody minded woman your daughter, she'll dig her heels in all the way!"

"So what are you saying?" Dad demands in a hiss. "That if I stood here and said "No Princess, that's fine, you go off and get spliced to my son" that somehow it'd lose its appeal?"

"I'm saying you can't stop her doing what she wants! You're never going to call Dennis your son, not even if it was the only thing you wanted in this world. You never will, because you'll never forgive the poor soul for loving Sharon in the way he does. You see it as the wrong way and maybe it is, but it's too late to change anything. They were the innocent ones, Dennis and Sharon, and you were the one that shoulda had the nerve to give Dennis some sort of clue years before his mother died, years before he met Sharon, before he fell in love with her. And you didn't! Why not Den, eh? You knew he was out there and you knew it was more than likely he was your son, and you did nothing. You just let him disappear. So if you want to blame anyone when Sharon & Dennis walk out of here today, then take a long hard look in the mirror!"

And with that, she swings round on her heel, heading back to me, lifting my hands from the banister and holding them tightly in her own. Her lips move, but no words escape as Dad instead roars;

"She's my daughter!"

"And you're going to lose her if you push her any harder!" Chrissie snaps back. "She'll never be able to help but love you, Den, you're her dad. But that's precisely why Dennis will never be able to help but hate you. You never wanted him and he doesn't want you. He just wants to be with Sharon. Why the Hell would he let you stop him when you've given him precisely nothing all his life? You have to let them get on with it! You just have."

Scowling and looking thunderous, my dad turns away. So Chrissie, resigned to the idea her words are lost, turns back to me and, holding my hand, leads me off the stairs and hugs me tight. "We'll be alright, abe. You'll see. We will."

"I hope so." I reply shakily.

"Chrissie? Chrissie, is that you?"

Sharon darts across the hall to the top of the stairs. Chrissie smiles up at her and nods. "Hello babe. I heard you're heading home?" 

She smiles weakly, taking to fiddling nervously with her engagement ring again. "Mmmm. Cab's just pulled up."

"Well then, it's all hands on deck isn't it? C'mon Vicks, let's go grab some bags eh?"

I smile willingly and follow her up the staircase. We file back into Sharon's room. Dennis has just zipped up the last bag and tossed it onto the bed when he catches sight of us all. "Oh. Hiya."

"Let us give you a hand-"

"No, it's alright-"

But Chrissie holds up her perfectly manicured hand to silence him. "We insist. Don't we Vicki?"

"Yeah."

"That keen to be rid of us eh?"

"No actually." I assure him brightly, lifting Sharon's holdall. "Just... the sooner you're gone, the sooner we're gonna be sunning ourselves in Miami for your bloody wedding eh?"

Dennis starts to laugh, bowing his head and scratching anxiously at the nape of his neck. Sharon told me about that, how cute she finds it.

"Oh. Yeah. Course. My mistake." 

"Oh, it's no mistake, Dennis." Chrissie says kindly as she passes him with the suitcase behind her and their last bag across her shoulder too. "It's the best thing the two of you are ever gonna do."

He freezes for a second, scanning her face as if he's trying to work out if she could possibly have meant it. But then his jaw gives way to a proper grin and he nods in thanks as me and Chrissie pile down the stairs together with their luggage. And as I go carefully down, I catch sight of them together on the landing and just for a second, they seem to flo against one another, snuggled close, holding each other almost in relief.

Me & Chrissie load all their stuff in the back of the cab and wait for them for a few moments. Dennis steps out onto the stairwell first, turning back towards Sharon who, fishing around, clutches something in her fist before letting Dennis take her other hand, holding it as if he is never going to let her go. They look so well out of that house. Cos there they are, coming towards us, hand in hand and looking like any other loving couple should. I admire them for that, for being so strong. There is no other way anyone else could ask them to be together.

Sharon releases a deep breath as they slow up in front of us both. I can't help but throw my arms around her straight away.

"You don't need anyone else Sharon, remember that."

"I'll miss you, Vicki." she replies in a sad whisper.

"Rubbish." I scoff, pulling back. "You're not gonna have time. I'm gonna be on a plane with Chrissie before you've even got your hands on your marriage licence! Chief bridesmaid and all that, I have duties."

She smiles weakly. "You won't... tell Chelle will you?" She glances back towards the house and flinches a little in repulsion. "About this?"

"Hey... this don't matter as long as you two are gonna stick with it."

Sharon squeezes Dennis' hand tight. "We are." Then she uncurls her fist. "Here darlin', you better take these, you'll need these to get back inside." And then she offloads her keys into my hand.

"Sharon-"

But she shrugs, dismissing me. "I've got my own home, Vicki. In Miami, with Dennis. I don't want those anymore. I don't wanna be anywhere I'm not wanted."

Chrissie frowns, saddened. "Hey, we want you there!"

But Dennis shakes his head, understanding what his fiancé means. "It's not where we belong though is it? Especially not if-"

"-we're married. And you guys know you're always welcome to come to us."

"You'll regret saying that babe. You'll never be rid of us."

"We don't mind."

"Yeah well, we'll be with you soon enough as it is, eh, with the wedding? So go on, go..." Chrissie waves them off. But Dennis is looking intently at me, dislodging his hand carefully from Sharon's and stepping up to me. "It was, er, great to meet you at last, Vicks." Hesitations over with, he drops his arms around me. But even then I have to stretch up onto my toes to level with his shoulder. Then he whispers; "Take care... sis."

I shiver a little at the sincerity of that one little word and giggle nervously, brushing a kiss against his cheek. "Keep your promises, Dennis."

Then I drop back down onto my own two feet and he's looking at me with that half smirk bedore reaching out for my hand. As he squeezes it, I feel something light be pressed down into it. He breaks off and smiles; "Course."

His attention then lost to me, I'm left to uncurl my hand a little and take a private peek. A flash of pink greets me. £50! Whatever he is, brother, brother-in-law, he's a bloody good one.

He & Sharon hug Chrissie goodbye in turn and then it seems they're all but ready to go. But as Sharon prepares herself, breathing in a heavy "OK-" as her and Dennis go to step off the kerb and reach to open the passenger doors at the back, Chrissie stops her.

"Sharon..."

"Hmmm?"

And she turns to see exactly what we all do. Dad shuffling out the front door, surveying us all with sad eyes, wondering if he really dare move any closer and at least try and let this end right.

She turns back, glancing across the roof of the car at Dennis and pleading in a whisper; "Two minutes..."

He nods distractedly and looks away.

So Sharon takes that one brave step back towards the house and Dad sees that he must come down to her. He walks heavily, but reaches her only for silence to overcome them for a painful moment. He stows his hands in his pockets and mumbles; "Nothing I can do to make you see sense is there?"

Sharon blinks through the hurt, even though tears have already begun to fill her eyes again. She shakes her head as she lifts her hand to wipe the sad crystals away. Dennis catches sight of this movement and turns round, eyes thunderous as he watches them. Sympathy kicks inside me and I drop off the kerb to go and gain his attention.

"Hey..." I whisper quietly. "...you're gonna be alright."

Wordlessly, he pulls me into another hug, burying his face in my hair as he rocks me, anything so he doesn't have to see. But he can't help but hear. None of us can.

"And there's nothing I can do to make you see how happy I'm gonna be."

Dad looks away from Sharon and she nods sadly at his reaction, sniffling a little. She moves to turn back towards the cab, but something strikes her and she faces Dad again in one hesitant second. "Won't you... at least... say you're happy for me? Even if you... don't mean it?"

He claws desperately at his lip. He wants to tell her what she needs to hear. Never mind that it's Dennis that delivers Sharon's happiness, the fact she is happy at all should be all that matters to Dad. But then, of course, he is Den Watts, and his need to control, to always be so... bloody minded, so full of ridiculous pride... it forces him to say the two words that will some day soon destroy him.

"Goodbye Princess."

Sharon reels, looking stunned and hurt all at once. "You're... letting me go?" she asks, in a voice that is barely there.

He nods. "Your old man don't wanna be lonely."

"You won't be." she assures him bravely. "It's gonna work out Dad, you'll see. Me & Dennis.... this family. It'll work."

The tears by now slipping down her face she hesitanatly steps up to Dad and falls against him, relieved as his arms surround her too.

"I hope so, Sharon. I really do."