Tabitha

"Ms. Harding? Two minutes."

Tabitha Harding gave a curt nod, barely glancing up from the mirror in which she was scrutinizing herself, and had been for the past ten minutes. The makeup artists and hair stylists and wardrobe wranglers had done their magic and she was perfect from head to toe - no one could fault the sharp-collared white shirt she was wearing, nor the straight fall of her chestnut-colored hair; even her normally-problematic fringe had been straightened and spritzed into submission. Every little blemish had been covered up, the sprinkling of freckles across her nose masked until her skin was the same smooth, even tan all over. She looked fantastic, and in two minutes everybody watching at home would agree.

Her PA fell into step beside her as she exited the dressing room, the usual thick sheaf of papers clutched to his chest. Tabitha honestly had no idea what it was about her existence that seemed to create such a neverending stream of paperwork for the waifish young man, but she honestly couldn't say that she cared - he got a good wage and good holidays, and in return, Tabitha cleared her conscience of any concern for what daily trials and tribulations her life and work might cause him.

"So, um, I've had to reschedule your meeting this afternoon to next Wednesday, because Michelle's told me that they think they might overrun today - because of the turkey," Paul began as they began to make their way along the corridor to the studio. It was obvious from his tone that he knew that there were several parts of this that weren't going to go down well.

"The turkey's not ready? Goddamn it, this recipe's only been planned for - oh, I don't know, months?" Tabitha fumed, heels clicking on the slick floor. "Honestly, all I ask for is a little competence, a little planning, a little forethought, and what do I get?"

"No, no, it's not that, it's just... it's a little larger than you wanted."

Tabitha stopped and turned slowly towards Paul, fixing him with a stony glare. "How large?"

Paul swallowed, visibly. "Er, I don't know exactly - you'd have to ask Michelle..."

"Where is she?"

"On set, but sh-"

"Michelle!" Tabitha was already off and stalking towards the set, leaving her assistant open-mouthed in her wake. This wasn't the first time she had to deal with unexpected complications, and a part of her welcomed it. It was so much easier to be gracious and warm on camera if she had gotten to blow off a little steam beforehand.

Michelle, in the meantime, was completely oblivious to the formidable character currently heading for her at a rate of knots. She was huddled next to Henry-the-sound-guy, both of them wearing the ubiquitous enormous headphones as they listened through the music cues they had planned for the episode.

She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to find a perfectly-coiffed Tabitha Harding standing there, a frown fixed on her perfect lips. "What's this I hear about the turkey being too large?"

Her heart skipped a beat, but Michelle's only outward response was a broad smile. "No such thing, surely?" she said, cheeks dimpling.

"There is when it delays my show and upsets my schedule - I thought after the seasonal ham incident I had made myself clear." Despite the absurdity of her words the chef was deadly serious. "How large is it?"

Michelle told her.

"You're fired."

The other woman's face froze. Then she grinned broadly. "Very good," she said. "So basically, we're looking at an extra hour o-"

"I mean it. Get off my set, now."

That grin still in place, Michelle sounded mildly incredulous, now. Slowly, she took her headphones off, placing them on the table by the computer that she had been listening on. "Your set," she said carefully. She pursed her lips, then - she almost looked as though she was trying not to laught. "Your set," she said again. "I see."

Tabitha had already turned away by now, her long hair swinging over her shoulder as she faced down the stares from the rest of the crew. "Well?" she asked, her voice taking on a slightly brittle edge. "We're already going to be over time - let's not add to that any more than we have to."

For once, no one was watching Tabitha. Their eyes flickered across when she spoke, but then their gazes immediately returned to the petite woman behind her, who seemed to be calmly gathering together her bag, phone and jacket, lifting her scarf from where she'd left it hanging over the back of her chair and slinging it around her neck in a fashion that was at once careless and artful. She even stopped, all eyes still on her, to fix her hair, pulling it out of its little ponytail and tying it back again, though half of it immediately escaped again to hang in dark, glossy locks around her face and ears. Increasingly, as she went through this ritual, her demeanor was turning into one of controlled emotion to one of amused pragmatism, her nut-brown eyes twinkling brightly whenever someone managed to meet them from across the room. By the time she'd finished gathering her things together, the entire set was silent, and the short block heels of her boots clacked in a thoroughly satisfying fashion across the hardwood floor as she made her exit, turning only once before she left, just half-way - perhaps to meet Tabitha's gaze one last time? She seemed to think better of it, though, and turned back again. And then she was gone.

The taping took more than an extra hour. By the time the episode was wrapped to Tabitha's standards it was dark outside and more than one crew member was grumbling under their breath that they wished they had gotten fired - though not, of course, within Tabitha's hearing.

Paul was on maximum hover mode, and appeared more stressed and busy than ever, running this way and that, taking repeated muttered phonecalls in the background between takes. His stress levels were not helped by Tabitha who, as she breezed by towards her dressing room, cleared her throat to get his attention and then announced, "We'll need to find a new producer. Line up interviews for next week."

The young man's eyes widened, his face draining of colour. "Michelle's not coming back?"

This halted her in her tracks. "I fired her, Paul. Of course she's not coming back."

"Um. Oh. Okay. I just... I thought..."

"What?"

Paul blanched further, if such a thing was possible. "I'll start making calls in the morning."

Tabitha gave a satisfied nod. "Good. Now, tomorrow's more interviews for the book launch, isn't it? Tell wardrobe I want the plum trousers and to make sure they're properly pressed this time."

"Right, of course, yes. Absolutely. Anything else, Ms Harding?"

"No, that's all for tonight."

Nodding nervously, Paul took his leave, then, turning on his heel and heading toward the cloakroom that contained the lockers for those staff - the majority - who didn't have their own rooms or offices.

Tabitha made her way back to her dressing room, shutting the door and locking it behind her. As soon as she heard the lock slot in she collapsed back against the door, shutting her eyes tightly and tipping her head up towards the ceiling. I fired her. Shit. What was I thinking. She's gone. Fuck. Fuck.

The thing was, Michelle Tait might drive Tabitha insane sometimes, but she was easily the best producer she'd ever worked with, and she was well-respected enough in her own right that she would almost certainly have grounds for sueing them for unfair dismissal should she choose to.

The smart thing to do would be to call her, invite her out for a drink, apologize and beg her to come back, no matter how debasing it might feel. And Tabitha usually did the smart thing.

So why couldn't she now?

Perhaps it was the fact that she'd done what she'd done in front of the whole crew. Perhaps it was they way Paul had just assumed that Michelle wasn't really fired, that she'd be back. Perhaps it was the look Michelle herself had given her as she'd left, that knowing look, the look that said that she knew what a stupid mistake Tabitha was making, and she was going to stand back and just let her make it. There was no doubt that Michelle could walk into another job in a matter of days at very little cost to herself. It was going to cost Tabitha a lot in both time and money to replace her.

Well. Tabitha had money, and Paul would have to excavate some time in her schedule somewhere. She wasn't going to go crawling back, and if Michelle wanted to sue, well... then she'd deal with that when it happened.

 

"...And then she said 'I mean it - get off my set'!"

"No. No! Seriously?"

"Seriously," Michelle said, making a mock-serious face as she reached for her G&T. "So I thought, 'Fine, I could use a half-day anyway,' and I left."

"Right." The man across the table lifted his eyebrows expectantly. "And then she called and apologized and asked you back..."

"Nope!"

"Wait, what?" Stuart's eyes widened. "But you're going back, right?"

Michelle shrugged. "Well, I'm not crawling to her - they'll have to pay me through the end of my contract regardless. No skin off my nose."

"Wow. That's..."

"I know, right?"

"Totally." Her brother shook his head, sipping his drink. He set his glass down then, reaching to pat Michelle's hand. "You could sue, you know. You'd win in a heartbeat."

Michelle screwed up her face, her somewhat acquiline nose wrinkling, and shook her head. "Nah," she said. "If they refuse to pay my full fee, then I'll be down on them like a ton of bricks. But other than that..."

"You're just going to let her get away with it?"

The producer grinned. "As opposed to what?"

"...I don't know, punishing her?"

"Oh, Stu..." Michelle shook her head, smiling tolerantly. "You know that's not how I work. Besides," she added, her smile turning a little wicked, "people like Tabitha Harding punish themselves."

"Well, she'll certainly be kicking herself after a few days without you. If she thinks she can run that show she'll find she's sorely mistaken," Stuart chuckled. "I bet she'll be begging you to come back by the end of the week."

"I dunno," his sister replied. "She fired me in front of the whole crew. I'm not sure there's any coming back from that."

"Hm. Well, at least now you'll have time for your own projects - weren't you talking about doing a short film next time you got a break?"

"Very true, I did say that, didn't I?" Michelle replied. "Harding can pay for me to do that instead. Now, if only I had some contact in the Indie film industry, say a fresh-faced up-and-coming young director just desperate for something to do..." She quirked an eyebrow at her brother.frown fixed on her perfect lips.

"Oh, are you talking about -me-?" He asked, raising his eyebrows comically. "You want to plunder my contacts, don't you?"

"Just your talent. Seriously though, how about it? I've got a couple of scripts you might like. You're not that busy with that course, are you?"

Stuart blinked, a grin slowly spreading over his face. "Hell no. I mean, not busy enough to pass up a chance to work with an experienced producer..."

Rewarding his grin with a matching one of her own, Michelle downed the remainder of her drink and planted it decisively on the table between them. "Well then," she said, "that's settled. I'll get my solicitor to send a courtesy letter to Harding's executive team tomorrow, and then you and I can set up a meeting!"

 

Tabitha was at her wit's end. Three days without Michelle and the show was already beginning to suffer - she had been forced to delay filming for an upcoming episode by a day so the crew could adjust to running without a producer, which threw her schedule (and Paul) into a frenzied reorganization.

And now, on day two of the new regime, they were a further six hours behind schedule, and she was quite sure (no one had dared tell her) they were already several thousand pounds over budget in wasted resources and equipment hire.

She felt like breaking things. Instead, she plastered on a smile and lifted the dish, watching as the camera zoomed in on the gently-steaming crust. "Now, you'll notice that the-- no, not that close, Johann, it looks like an alien landscape when you get that close."

The flustered cameraman shot her an apologetic smile, and backed off. Everyone was backing off, right now - she hadn't had a word of argument about anything since the scene with Michelle Tait.

She had a reputation as a tough boss, she knew - but it wasn't as if she didn't compensate people well for their time and effort. And if they couldn't deal with the pressure of dealing with her perfectionist tendancies, well, there were plenty of other, sloppier shows they could go work on.

Paul was hovering again, now, clearly waiting to speak to her about something. He wouldn't dare to interrupt her in the middle of filming, particularly when they were on a time-sensitive take like this one - some things it was easy to just do over, others took far longer - if the first few quick takes didn't work, they had to be cooked all over again.

Luckily Johann managed to complete the take without offending Tabitha's sensibilities, and the segment was soon wrapped and the pie whisked away to be refrigerated until it could be driven to a local children's charity where all of the excess food was donated week in and week out. The chef looked up from washing her hands.

"What is it, Paul?"

"Oh, I just have something for you to sign," he said somewhat evasively. "Just a quick note from the executive team..."

"A note? What about?"

This was clearly the question Paul had been dreading. "Um, it's a release for Michelle Tait - the contract stipulates that you need to cosign a statement citing irreconcilable creative differences before they can clear the rest of her fee."

"The rest of her fee?" Tabitha nearly spat out. "I'm not authorising that."

"David told me to tell you that it's all right, that they've got a bit of padding in their budget, and that-"

"Absolutely not. It wasn't 'creative differences', I fired her for repeated instances of incompetence."

The young man took a deep breath, then cleared his throat. "Ms Harding, David seemed to think that it could cost them an awful lot more if they refused to honour the contract," he said. "They said that, er, what with procedure, and-"

"Fuck procedure! She's not getting a full contract's worth of pay for no work. David's the lawyer, tell him to figure out a way out of it."

"He said this is the way out of it," Paul said, obviously terrified now, but somehow still managing to talk. "He - he said that we were lucky that she was only asking for her fee and not just going straight to court, that she was being very understanding..."

"I'm not signing that." Tabitha gave a sharp shake of her head and then began to walk off set, not looking behind to see if Paul was following. "I'm going to the restaurant. Have a car ready in ten, and don't tell them I'm coming."

 

He'd phoned ahead. He always did - and Tabitha always knew it as soon as she walked in, the serving staff tried to feign surprise, the restaurant spotlessly clean and running like a well-oiled machine. The funny thing was, she was pretty damned sure that it would have been just as clean, just as efficient, had they not been warned ahead. But the looks in the eyes of the staff always gave it away in any case.

She tamped down her annoyance - it wasn't their fault Paul didn't listen to a word she said - and exchanged words with the staff, taking time to chat with each person at their stations. Though she maintained her usual rigorous standards here she was slightly less overbearing, trusting her head chef Anthony to keep things running smoothly.

Anthony himself was not on duty tonight, but his second, Fiona, was an able soul who, other than her nerves at Tabitha's presence, was doing just fine in his absence.

"Will you be eating here tonight, Ms Harding?" she was asking now as Tabitha made her way around the kitchen, watching the various young geniuses she'd found over the years hard at work.

"Yes, I'm meeting a business associate," she replied, pursing her lips as she watched a raven-haired young woman carefully folding cream into a sauce. "In half an hour."

"Oh, wonderful - and, er, in the meantime?"

"I'd like to stay back here - if that's all right with you." There was no archness to Tabitha's tone; it was clear she would leave if Fiona asked.

"Um, no, I mean, that would be great," Fiona stammered slightly, a slight blush creeping onto her cheeks, the slight roll to her Scottish 'r' sounds all the more pronounced in her nerves.

"Thank you. Things are looking fine, by the way. Good work."

The other woman beamed, and this seemed to be the boost she needed, because as she turned back to address the kitchen as a whole, her voice was steady again, assured, and without a further word or even a nod to Tabitha, she got on with the business of the evening.

This left the older woman free to drift through the kitchen, though of course she didn't hover long enough to disturb anyone at their work. She just relished the chance to be in a working kitchen again - it felt in a way like coming home, and a breath of home was exactly what she needed right then.

 

By the time she emerged from the kitchen, David Spence had already arrived and was perusing the menu at his table.

Tabitha joined him, sitting down unceremoniously and reaching for her water glass almost immediately. "David. Thank you for coming tonight."

"Always a pleasure, Tabitha. Licked the troops into shape, have you?" he asked with a congenial grin, tipping his chin toward the kitchen.

"They didn't need much - everything is going very well," Tabitha said with a polite smile.

"Glad to hear it - splendid. Well then, what am I eating tonight?"

Once Tabitha had made her recommendations and the waiter had come and gone she sat back in her chair, fingers tented before her. "So. This settlement."

"Yes," David said, clearly having expected this. "Well, it's not really a 'settlement', per se. It's her ordinary fee, as per her contract."

"Except she's no longer working for me."

"Due to irreconcilable creative differences."

"No - no! I told Paul-- this wasn't because of a creative difference, there wasn't anything 'creative' about it..."

"She bought a big turkey, Tabitha - in the grand scheme it's not exactly a death blow, is it? She set you back, what, an hour, two? And how far behind schedule have you got since she left?"

"It wasn't the first time," Tabitha said stubbornly, refusing to back down. "I'm sure I documented them at the time."

"No, you didn't. Nor did you give her a verbal warning, followed by a written warning, followed by a disciplinary hearing," David said patiently.

"Do you think I have time for all that? Do you know how busy I am?"

"Mm. Look, you can't pursue this, Tabitha. Even supposing you'd win in court - which I doubt, just think what it would do for your public profile. Michelle Tait is well-loved, well-respected - she's barely thirty with BAFTAs coming out of her ears, she's on every charity case, every non-profit project going. Whereas you-"

"I'm a businesswoman, David. It's not a dirty word," Tabitha said tightly.

"You know what I'm talking about," David said, making a face. "When Gordon Ramsey does what he does he's macho and funny. When you do it you're... shrill. People like you in spite of your demeanor, Tabitha, not because of it. If you're seen to be bullying some pretty bleeding-heart producer, you're just asking for your profile to take a nose-dive."

"So... what? I just cave in? Give her the money?" Tabitha smacked her hand on the table. "To maintain what little likeability I have?"

"And because it's your legal obligation anyway - our obligation, the studio's. And the executive board have made their decision. Frankly, we were lucky she didn't take us straight to court. All I got was a polite invoice."

"Fuck."

"Thanks for that, Gordon."

"I can't stomach the idea of just paying out, David - I won't do it. If she's going to get paid make her work for it. Hire her back."

The other man raised his eyebrows. "Well, feel free to get in touch with her to discuss that," he offered.

"What? No - you're the legal division, you handle it."

"You fired her, kicked her right off the set - despite having no authority to do so I might add," David said, sounding slightly irritated himself, now. "If you want her back, you can hire her again."

 

"Hello. May I speak with Michelle Tait." Tabitha's voice couldn't have been more monotone. "It's Tabitha Harding."

"Oh, good morning, Ms Harding," said the voice on the other end, and Tabitha realised then that she was already speaking to the woman in question. "Sorry, I answer my own phone in the mornings if I'm around," she went on conversationally, "my PA has a billion other things to do, seems like the least I can manage."

"Oh. That's... nice." Tabitha gave a long sigh. "I've called to apologize. For my behavior on set the other day."

"Don't worry about it," the other woman said breezily, sounding genuinely unphased. "It happens - temperatures rise, tempers fray. It was a big turkey."

"Mm. Well. Regardless, I'd like to offer you your job back," Tabitha said, grateful there was no one else around to witness her embarrassment. "Effective immediately."

There was a pause on the other end of the phone line. Then, "I'm sorry, Ms Harding, but I don't think that's going to be possible."

"Yes, of c-- what?"

"I'm afraid my time is already committed elsewhere. I've already been in touch with the studio to let them know that for any future projects I'll be happy to offer them a very favourable rate as a mark of good faith, but as to this series of Tabitha, I'm afraid our irreconcilable differences are where we must leave it."

"Yes but I called and apologized. And besides, it's only been a week - surely you haven't booked up already," Tabitha said, aghast.

"I appreciate the apology, but I'm sorry - my time gets filled very quickly. I'm producing a short film."

"You're producing a short film."

"Um. Yes? For free, as it happens."

"For free?" Michelle could hear a muttered 'Jesus Christ' on the other end of the line. "So that's it. You're just going to take the money and make a short film and leave the show in the lurch?"

"Well, sure, if you want to look at it that way." The other woman sounded thoroughly unconcerned how Tabitha wanted to look at it.

"Fantastic. I knew this was a waste of time," the chef muttered.

"Well, the apology's appreciated, nevertheless," the other woman said, her voice carefully light. "You never know, perhaps we'll work again under less heated circumstances at some other time."

"That seems bloody unlikely now, doesn't it?"

"Mm, perhaps." Tait even sounded slightly distracted, now, just to add insult to injury. "Well, I'll see you again sometime, no doubt," she said now.

"Goodbye, Ms. Tait." And good riddance.

 

Michelle's mouth flattened to a worried line as she hung up the phone. She was perfectly within her rights, of course, and she had now made a commitment to her brother, and to a young writer, both of whom would be far more disappointed than Tabitha Harding if she backed out on them now.

Still, the whole thing left a bad taste in her mouth. If I'd thought for a second she'd back down and apologise, I wouldn't have booked myself up again so quickly... After a hesitation, she picked up her phone, and called the internal number for her PA's office.

"Suze, what's my schedule like over the next couple of weeks? With meetings and funding requests and so on? Gimme a rough working-week estimate here."

Her assistant gave her a quick rundown of her schedule in the upcoming weeks - it had filled up quickly but not completely, and she still had a few free days here and there.

"D'you reckon I can leave it at that, push any further appointments until August?"

"Sure Ms Tait, I can freeze all appointments if you want, shouldn't cause too much of a problem."

"But tell me if anything comes up that would mess the film around if I postponed, yeah? If I'm taking on two jobs at once I will not have Stu and Karen suffer for it."

"You're taking on another job?" Suze asked curiously.

"Mm, well, sort of," was Michelle's reply. "Just, um, email my schedule to me for now, yeah?"

"Sure thing. D'you want some tea, too?"

"Love some - oh, I'll get it, actually. Need to stretch my legs anyway."

"Okay. Kettle's on."

"Great. Oh, Suze, one last thing..."

"Yes, Ms Tait?"

"Two last things, then. First, you know perfectly well it's 'Michelle'. Honestly, how you can organise my whole life and then fail to follow the simplest instructions I don't know," she said, the smirk evident in her tone. "Second, if anyone called Melanie calls, I'm not here."

"Um, all right Ms-- Michelle. I'll make sure to pass on the message."

"Any variation on Melanie - Mel, Melly, whatever. Just tell her whatever you have to."

"All right." This wasn't the first time Suze had received instructions along these lines; she didn't sound phased.

"I'll be through in a minute."

 

Tabitha's temper was thinner than ever and things on set seemed to be growing progressively less organized and more chaotic; the two seemed to be linked in a plunging spiral of misplaced ingredients, missed cues and white knuckles. Eventually the volatile chef snapped, shouting at the unfortunate propsmaster and storming off set and into her dressing room, slamming the door loud enough for it to reverberate down the hall for all to hear.

Eventually, she heard a tentative knock that could only come from Paul. It was funny, she mused now - Paul came across as so timid so much of the time, but when it was required he was prepared to bother her at times when no one else would dare. Which was just as well, really.

"What?" she barked, turning to glare at the door.

The door opened slowly, and that familiar fashionably touseled head of hear popped round, a rather scared looking face attached. "Um. Is there anything I can get you?"

"A working crew," Tabitha growled, folding her arms over her chest. "Or, assuming that's now impossible, a hiatus from this fucking disaster pit of a show."

The young man smiled shakily. "Hah, um... Well, we got Michelle Tait's new schedule though by email," he said now, perking up slightly. "So perhaps when she's back on set..."

"Wait, what? She's coming back?"

"Not full-time - she says she has other commitments, but she sent through a revised... You didn't know? I thought you spoke to her..."

"I did. She said she wasn't available," Tabitha said icily.

"I guess she... freed up some space?" Paul said hesitantly, obviously unsure why this news was apparently annoying rather than welcome.

"So it would seem." Tabitha turned away again, busying herself with a stack of photographs on a nearby table. "Then I suppose we're going to have to reschedule everything according to her availability."

"Um, apparently not," Paul said now, "She won't always be on-set, but she seems to have structured it so that she's still done all the prep required and we don't actually need her in the building every day. Oh, and she's given us some 'on-call' hours for some of the times we'd be recording without her..."

"Oh. Well." It seemed the chef was actively searching for something to be annoyed by; the fact that she couldn't find anything was annoying in and of itself. "Fine. I'll need a copy of all this, preferably before it starts."

"That's what I... um... here," Paul settled for eventually, stepping properly into the room at last and proferring two neatly typed pages of notes and tables. Tabitha took them, glanced over them quickly; it seemed to be exactly as Paul said, a tightly-organized list of dates and times that bore Tait's signature streamlined scheduling.

"Wait - this is only until the end of July. It says nothing about the Italy trip."

"Yeah..." Paul made a face. "After that, she's not sure. But her email - it's on the second page there, I copied it in - in her email she said that she'd be able to confirm nearer the time how much of the trip she can be around for." He didn't, for now, add the 'if at all' that the email contained.

"'How much she can be around for'? I can't very well go on a televised tour of Italy without a producer! Or worse, one popping in and out as and when she pleases!"

Paul opened his mouth to respond to this, then closed it, clearly realising that any reason he might have to offer - the fact that they currently had no producer at all, the fact that, actually, a producer dropping in and out during the course of filming was par for the course and Tabitha knew it - was going to be extremely unwelcome. Tabitha fixed him with a steely gaze, daring him to speak, and gave a satisfied 'hmph' when he refrained.

"Fine. Tell the crew I want to be ready for filming in twenty minutes - we're going to finish this segment tonight if it kills us."

 

"Well, I don't know what you said, but it looks like you did it."

Tabitha arched an eyebrow, looking at once proud and annoyed. "I apologized; maybe you want to put out a press release? 'Bitch cookery host says sorry to Mother Teresa of the film world'?"

"Hey, now, that's not fair," David said with a smile, holding up his hands in defense. "I never said I thought that about you. I was just expressing public sentiment."

"Thanks," Tabitha said dryly. "That's really comforting."

"Anyway, the important thing is that she's back, and all's well."

"It's not 'all well' yet - things are still a mess. It took us six hours yesterday to film a wrap-up - six hours!"

"Well, fine. All will be well."

"Mm. We'll see."

 

Michelle returned to the work the next week. Well, actually she had returned to work virtually the day that she'd sent through the schedule, starting to pull back together the various threads she needed to take over the smooth running of Tabitha once more. However, the first visible sign that she was back was her return to the set that Tuesday when filming began once more for the winter season of the show. She could almost feel the atmosphere weighing down on her as soon as she stepped foot on set - it was quiet and tense, and though people seemed generally happy to see her they all seemed reluctant to take time away from their busywork to welcome her back.

Still, there was plenty to be getting on with, and Michelle got straight to work, immediately seeking out the director for a quick chat to cement some of the things they'd discussed over the phone the previous week.

"All I can say is: Thank God you're back," the older woman said, giving Michelle a grin as they leafed through the script for the upcoming episode. "A few more weeks of that and I think we would've started to lose people by the dozen."

"Oh, you'd have hired someone new on," Michelle said with a returning smile. "So! Where are we?"

"You said you had some notes on the opening segement, some things to make it a bit more seasonal..."

"Mm, yeah, well, this is the New Year episode, yes? I had an idea with the lighting that we tried once on an episode of Room For More that you might like..."

 

And so on, and so forth - Michelle worked her way around most of the crew that morning, runners and all, re-establishing herself, stamping her mark back on the production. By the time lunchtime came around she was reasonably sure that things would run smoothly for the filming that afternoon; that is, everything would be fine as long as Tabitha herself was fine. And there was no way of telling that without speaking to her assistant Paul, who seemed to have a better gauge on her moods than she did herself sometimes.

Paul himself showed up an hour or so before Tabitha was due on set, his trademark harried expression already in place. When he spotted Michelle, he made a beeline for her.

"Hi. Um, welcome back," he said with a nervous smile, shifting the satchel he wore slung over one shoulder. "Is everything okay for the filming this afternoon?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing," Michelle said with a slightly cheeky grin.

"Well, she was doing press calls all morning, which she hates, but I scheduled her in for lunch at La Patisserie, so hopefully she'll be in a better mood when she gets here..."

"Lovely. Well then. How've things been going?" she asked now, more out of politeness than anything else - it was obvious how things had been going.

Paul gave an ungainly shrug, his polite smile full of implication. "Oh, you know... we've been soldiering on."

"Glad to hear it," Michelle breezed on. "Well, everything should be ready to go for today - hell, if Harding shows up early we could even be ahead of schedule."

"I'll let you know when she arrives."

"Great. I'll be in the production office with my paperwork." Michelle grimaced comically.

 

Tabitha arrived at the set like a rolling thundercloud of annoyances and resentment; though she had had a pleasant lunch and knew that the filming that afternoon should go smoothly she couldn't help but expect the worst. She had tried therapy to cure her of her eternal pessimism but had given up when results were not forthcoming, as she didn't have the time to waste on the appointments and endless exercises. It seemed strange to some that someone with Tabitha's spiky attitude had managed to build a well-known and popular business, but she knew that it was always expecting the worst that allowed her to deal with the ups and inevitable downs of the industry

Michelle appeared back on set just after Tabitha arrived, looking as polished and stylish as she had when she'd swept out of the studio the week before, her insufferably cute hair, barely-there make-up and perfectly chosen wardrobe as usual grating with the chef, who had the conviction that the reason it all looked so effortless for Michelle was because it was, and that just struck her as tragically unfair being a person who had to put a great deal of time and effort to make herself 'fit for camera'.

With that in mind she installed herself in the canvas chair in her dressing room, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes as the hair and makeup people got to work. As this was to be a New Years episode she was going to be clad in a Little Black Dress - no matter how she had argued that she would never cook in one of those - and heavier than usual makeup, which felt ridiculous but she was assured would look perfectly natural on camera.

Certainly, she turned a few heads as she re-appeared on set, although as it happened, Michelle's wasn't one of them, the other woman engrossed it seemed in a discussion with one of the cameramen and the lighting rigger, punctuated with gestures to one of the rigs above their heads.

Tabitha knew she should welcome the other woman back, display a little humility after her outburst the week before, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. Instead she busied herself in tidying the already-pristine kitchen set, eventually clearing her throat pointedly when it seemed the producer's conversation might stretch on forever.

Michelle, it seemed, was immune to such cues, but fortunately Laura, the director, was not, and she chose this moment to get everyone's attention, standing up and clapping her hands a couple of times.

"Right folks!" she said brightly. "Now I know it's the New Year episode but let's not crack out the bubble until we wrap, hm?" This was met with a smattering of laughter. "I'm sure we're all glad to have Michelle back with us on set - she's been hard at work behind the scenes for the past few days getting us back on track, so I'm sure everything's going to be fabulous. Let's get cracking!"

 

It felt like slipping back into a comfortable shoe - things ran just as they should from start to finish, and they ended right on schedule to a set-wide countdown and round of applause, the crew obviously relieved to have Michelle back at the helm and the team running smoothly once again. As they began to break down for the night there was talk of drinks at the nearby pub, and Michelle was promised at least half a dozen pints should she make it out.

First, though, it was time to brave speaking to Tabitha Harding herself. The other woman had left the set as soon as they'd wrapped, so she was forced to make her way to her dressing room, a slight feeling of trepidation settling in her stomach as she knocked on the door.

"What?"

Taking that as an invitation to enter - or at least as close to one as she was likely to get - Michelle pushed open the door to find Tabitha standing in her stocking feet in front of the mirror, scrubbing her makeup off with a balled-up tissue. "Oh," she said, raising her eyebrows. "Ms. Tait. I wasn't expecting you to-- what do you need?"

Slightly stunned by this sight - though she wasn't sure what else she should have expected - Michelle said nothing for a moment as she regrouped her thoughts. Then she shot the other woman a small smile. "Just checking in," she said, "We used to have a quick word when episodes wrapped..."

"Ah. We're doing that." Tabitha grimaced and then reached up, quickly pulling off first one and then the second strip of fake eyelashes, dropping them to the counter and then turning around. "Well, take a seat," she said, waving at the chairs near the door.

"Oh, I can wait 'til you're changed if-"

"I really don't have the time, Ms. Tait. I'm due at a restaurant opening in an hour and I'll be damned if I'm showing up looking like a cheap streetwalker."

"Um, okay, sure, so..." Michelle trailed off again, then seemed to catch herself. "Yes! I just wanted to touch base, really, see how you were feeling about the episode we just filmed."

"It was shit," Tabitha replied calmly, once again facing the mirror and attacking her face with the balled-up tissue.

Michelle blinked. This wasn't too far from Tabitha's usual response, but still... "Er, okay. So what could we have done to improve on it?"

"Oh, nothing. It wasn't the filming that was shit, it's just... what's wrong with people that they need a television show to tell them how to throw a party? 'Sparkling apple juice can take the place of champagne for your non-drinking guests'? Amazing! Somebody call the papers! Idiots."

"Mm. I guess it wasn't very..."

"It was banal. Boring. Not worth my time - or frankly, yours," the chef said with a glance over her shoulder at Michelle. "A fucking waste of pixels, time, and integrity. But not money, and that's why we have fifteen more left to shoot, lucky us."

"I suppose it wasn't very 'you'," Michelle said at last, in a diplomatic tone.

"Well. I'm sure the board is thankful for that," Tabitha said with a humorless grin moments before swiping the dark lipstick off her lower lip.

"Oh, come on, you are the show."

"No, a carefully-constructed mannequin with my face and my name is the show. Please, Ms Tait, don't confuse it with me."

Michelle frowned slightly, now. "Um. Okay. What do you want to do about that?"

Tabitha turned, a look of confusion crossing her face, chased by one of annoyance. "I don't want you to 'do' anything except honor the commitment you made and finish filming. The show does run better with you here, I won't argue with that. Just don't expect me to have these little meetings with you and pretend I give a shit about the drivel we're churning out. Just do your job, Ms Tait. That's all I want."

The other woman looked taken aback at this, and to Tabitha she even seemed to pale just slightly. "I. Um... All right," she said, pushing to her feet and making her way toward the door, looking considerably less even-keeled than she had when she'd been kicked off the set. At the door, she hesitated, and turned. "I was going to say... well, I am saying... that I'm sorry. About the phone call. I was caught off-guard. I didn't expect you to ask me back."

"It's fine," Tabitha said with a wave of her hand, lifting the other to twist her long, silky hair into a knot at the back of her neck. "I'm just surprised you came back, in the end. If I had a chance to get away from all this..." She trailed off, then shrugged, fingers fussing with her long fringe, brushing it out of her eyes. "Well. Goodbye, Ms Tait."

Michelle nodded, looking suddenly a little distracted. Tabitha Harding in a sleek black dress with her hair modestly tied back and her face free of make-up was quite a different thing from the same woman in the same dress with several inches of camera-ready foundation. You've seen her without make-up before. How did you not notice she had freckles?

She came to realizing that Tabitha was staring at her, obviously confused that Michelle hadn't taken the obvious dismissal for what it was. "Can I help you with something else, Ms Tait?" she asked sharply.

"Um. Right." Michelle seemed to catch herself, then, and favoured Tabitha with one of her beaming smiles. "G'night, then, se you bright and early!"

"Mm. Goodnight."

 

Michelle's mind was busy as she drove home. She knew, of course, that Tabitha's show was hardly 'deep', but she'd had no idea that the other woman found it so depressing. Of course, it was carefully produced and edited so that Tabitha looked like nothing less than the perfect hostess: charming, capable and gracious. If her public persona slipped from that occasionally, well, it didn't seem to affect ratings that much. But the idea that her 'day job' as it were bored her... Michelle took pride in her job, and enjoyed every day of it, even on cheesy shows like this one.

And for some reason she didn't like the idea that Tabitha didn't feel the same pride in the product, that maybe her dislike of the show and the playacting it involved was part of the reason for her sharp, standoffish behavior. In any event, it alleviated some of her guilt at the position she'd put the production in with her cut back hours - clearly it really didn't matter what she had done; it wouldn't have made Tabitha happy.

As she pulled up to her flat she saw a familiar-looking car parked outside, and an even more familiar-looking woman standing on the doorstep to the building looking bored. Michelle nearly put the car in reverse and went to her brother's for the night; sadly in her moment of hesitation she was caught.

"Michelle! Hey, there you are..."

"Mel! How the hell are you?" she managed in a friendly enough tone, painting a broad smile on her face.

"Oh, you know, a little lonely... you never returned my calls," the young woman said, tipping her head to one side.

"Oh, you called? Damn Suze... I haven't had her long, she drops things sometimes..."

"Yeah, um, well I figured that might be the case, which is why I decided to drop by..."

"Right. Good. Well, it's good to see you. D'you..." You really have no option here... "-want to come in for coffee?"

"Yes! I mean, um, sure, that'd be great." The girl grinned and stepped back to allow Michelle access to the door.

Michelle led the way up the stairs to her spacious studio, gesturing Mel in ahead of her. Mel and Michelle... lovely...

"So, um, did you have a nice day?" Mel asked as they stepped inside, turning to look hopefully at Michelle.

"Mixed," Michelle said. Then, "better now, though," she added, clicking the door shut behind her and immediately leaning in for a kiss.

The other woman responded in kind, though she pulled back almost immediately, reaching down to clasp Michelle's hand. "I'm glad. Were you filming today?"

"Mhm," Michelle said, leaning in to nibble at the other woman's neck. To give her her dues, Mel didn't make it hard to play the lothario - there was no doubt that she was very attractive.

"Oh, that must've been - ooh - fun..."

"Not as much fun as I'm about to have..."

 

Tabitha arrived home from the restaurant opening tired, discontent, and entirely too sober. The first two she couldn't do much about, at least not immediately, but the third...

She kept a comprehensive drinks cabinet, and tonight she opted to open a rather lovely port that she had been saving for some occasion - which was laughable, really, because it was only very rarely that anyone other than her, Paul or the cleaner saw the inside of her flat, and even then, it was usually some family member.

Might as well toast my utter lack of a social life, she thought with a snort, pouring herself a generous glass and carrying it over to the pristine leather sofa. A book sat on the coffee table in front of her, bookmarked around page fifty. She'd been 'reading' it for months.

She contemplated the television bolted to the wall - a large flatscreen Paul had assured her was 'state of the art'. She couldn't remember the last time she had turned it on.

No, as usual, she found herself reaching for the remote to her entertainment system, and turning on music - the strains of Dave Brubeck Quartet permeated the room, and she relaxed (or at least leant back) into the cushions of the sofa, tipping her head back and closing her eyes, still swilling the port slowly around in its glass.

Scenes from the day's event ran through her head - the vacuous smiles of the reporters who had interviewed her, asking the same questions over and over again; the feeling of release in the air as they had finished a successful take, without any screwups or raised voices; the look on Michelle Tait's face she had caught in the mirror after she had let herself get carried away on a rant.

It was obvious that the young producer enjoyed her job - the days when she was on-set she was always on the move, checking in with people, having quick 'mini-meetings' as she liked to call them, making sure that everyone was happy and on the same page. From a 'celebrity family' of sorts, Tabitha knew that Michelle's parents were both actors, albeit stalwarts of BBC and ITV drama and so not exactly film stars, and both their children had followed in their footsteps into 'show business'. Michelle herself had apparently been to drama school, and Tabitha had no doubt she could have made a name for herself on screen on looks alone, but she had instead gone into working behind the scenes. And not even into direction, as her younger brother had, but into production work - the thankless, do-everything showrunning work that to most people looked like a level of hell.

On her last project Tabitha gathered that Michelle had taken a more creative role - Room For More had been a high-concept, 'semi-reality' sketch show, almost more experiment than art, taking a group of talented young comics and actors and editing together a coherent show from what was essentially a series of improvisational pieces in a given setting. It was well-known that all the involved parties had been encouraged by Tait to put as much of themselves into their characters as they felt they could, and it had (according to the reviews Tabitha had read) made for highly engaging viewing that had so thoroughly blurred the lines between the actors and their characters that by the end of it even they didn't seem sure when they were acting and when they were merely reacting.

So why Michelle had gone on from a pivotal co-creator role in this outstanding, groundbreaking piece of television to an Associate Producer position on a by-the-numbers cookery show was something of a mystery. Had she just wanted a break from the pressure of a show's success or failure hanging on her slim shoulders? The joke was on her if she had - although she was working on contract for Tabitha and picking up a fee for it, it seemed that in a few short weeks the show itself had come to owe far more to Michelle's efforts and organisational skills than perhaps anyone had realised.

It seemed odd, then, that Michelle would take a position like this one, very much a 'pay the bills' sort of job, and yet seem so shocked - almost saddened - that Tabitha might do the same.

Maybe it's because she gets to do the thing she enjoys. I haven't gotten to cook - really cook - in too long. Not for an audience, not to hold up in front of a camera... She sighed and knocked back a large mouthful of port. I'm tired of people watching me.

Perhaps it wasn't like this for other celebrity chef types. Maybe Jamie Oliver really did have his mates round for dinner all the time and cook for them. Maybe Gordon Ramsey really did get his hands dirty at his restaurants. But something about being in front of the camera nearly every day for weeks at a stretch left Tabitha arriving home wanting nothing more to do with cooking, even just for herself. Not to mention the way that cooking for one just rubbed it in how entirely alone she was.

 

"Ohmigod, that was... you're amazing."

Grinning, Michelle shifted, rolling off the other woman and onto her side, bringing her fingertips unceremoniously to her own lips to taste them before leaning in for another deep kiss. "'Course I am," she murmured their lips parted, eyes twinkling.

Mel squirmed under the covers, then scooted closer to Michelle, reaching up to stroke a hand over the older woman's skin. "I've never... I don't normally do this, you know. I just feel that we have this... connection..."

Shit... So much for the shag her to distraction option... "You're sweet," she said with a gentle smile.

"And you're incredible."

"Shh." Michelle pursed her lips in mock disapproval, shaking her head.

Eventually Mel calmed down enough to drift to sleep, curled against Michelle's side with a slight smile on her lips. Michelle herself tried carefully to get comfortable, arm still trapped beneath the other woman. She closed her eyes, but didn't feel sleep approaching, a frown settling over her features.

Maybe when you want to stay casual you should just say 'let's stay casual' instead of instigating 'casual' sex to illustrate your point...

This was an ongoing problem. Michelle had no problem attracting women - she was attractive, confident, talented and smart. No, her problem was convincing said women that she didn't want anything more serious than dinner and sex... and sometimes shee didn't even want dinner. The very idea of sex without commitment seemed to be anathema to many women, in particular other lesbians - indeed, she was often assumed by cordial acquaintances to be a 'certain kind' of bisexual, people guessing (wrongly) that her blazé attitude to women meant that she was actually waiting for 'the right man'.

Not that she had any issue with bisexuality. Indeed, the existence of exactly such women - young, experimenting, interested in women but not enough to want to spend their lives with one - was a pretty reliable resource for hook-ups for Michelle, and she'd lost count of how many girls for whom she had been their first experience with another women. Which made her feel at once a little pleased with herself and also a little hollow.

Enough. You've been through this. The day you want to settle down, there's nothing stopping you. For now, you don't want to. And that's okay.

And if she was to settle down, well, it wouldn't be with someone like Mel. Not that the girl wasn't sweet, and incredibly attractive, but she was also naive and clingy, unable to read the signs that Michelle had tried to make blatant.

Still, we'll leave the chewing my own arm off option 'til the morning. Michelle turned a little toward the other woman and wove their legs together until she was in a comfortable position, not cutting off her circulation, and tried to settle down to sleep.

 

Filming was to begin quite early that morning - Tabitha's busy schedule meant that the entire crew needed to be in for a seven a.m. start. Tabitha herself was there right on time, having already been for her bi-weekly gym session beforehand. Michelle wasn't actually due on set until later that morning, and was not known for turning up for very early starts, so it was something of a surprise that she seemed to be in already, sitting in the corner chair she liked to frequent, leafing through a pile of assorted pieces of paperwork that looked as though they might be invoices. Tabitha noted this with a raised eyebrow but said nothing to the woman, proceeding to her dressing room as usual.

Just as she was finishing dressing, however, and having a quick glass of water, checking news headlines on her phone, there was a knock at the door and, before she could respond, the quiet call of, "It's Michelle. Quick chat?"

Tabitha rolled her eyes - hadn't she made her views on 'quick chats' quite clear the night before? - but called out 'Come in', turning in her chair to nod at the producer as she entered. "Take a seat."

Michelle perched herself on the edge of the chair, leaning forward a little in the stance of a person who wants to make it clear that they genuinely intend to be gone very soon. "So I've been going over our order lists and the non-perishable stuff we've already bought, and I was thinking... do you fancy reworking the next few episodes? After we finish filming the New Year intro today, obviously..."

"Reworking?" God, how much time does this woman think I have? "Mm, I'm not sure how feasible that is - if all you need is a sign-off then sure, go ahead, but I don't have any time in my schedule for scrapping things and going back to the drawing board."

"Well, you wouldn't have to for this - "If anything, it's going to involve less preparation on your part," Michelle said. Then, after a moment's hesitation, "My idea might... change things up a bit, though. In terms of... tone."

Tabitha arched an eyebrow; she was intrigued, yes, though part of her rebelled at any idea involving spending more time on the show than absolutely necessary. "How so?"

"Okay, so, I'll have to run this past Duncan, but basically I'm thinking that right now we're not using you. I mean, this is your vehicle, but you and I both know that any random celebrity chef could be presenting this show and it wouldn't make a blind bit of difference to the content. Well, apart from it being called 'Tabitha' being a bit weird. Right?" She almost managed to hide her slight nerves as she said this. Almost.

"Mm," Tabitha replied, giving a slight nod of her head as she looked down at Michelle from her vantage point on the makeup chair.

"And I was thinking, how did it come to this? Y'know? I mean, you made your name on being innovative, on making weird shit that normal people didn't have to pretend to like because it was actually tasty, on serving fantastic posh restaurant food in human-sized portions, and way back when, back in The Great Big Cook Off when you were, what, like eighteen or something, you stood out because you never got phased no matter what happened - missing ingredients, broken equipment, whatever. You just shrugged your shoulders and worked around it - it's what made you famous."

Tabitha was slightly taken aback by this; how long had it been since someone had actually focused on that, instead of the things that concerned the board - her slightly foul mouth, her appearance, her money-earning potential? "So what are you suggesting?" she asked, fixing Tait with her intense, green-eyed gaze.

"I'm suggesting we shift - even just for a couple of episodes, maybe, to try it out - to a format that actually showcases your talents instead of, y'know. Your hair or whatever."

"Hm." The chef was silent for a long moment, merely staring at - or maybe past - Michelle, unblinking. Then, suddenly, she stirred, favouring the other woman with an unexpectedly wolfish grin. "I like it."

Michelle's eyebrows shot up - she wasn't sure what she'd expected, but it wasn't that, and she was already responding in kind with a warm smile of her own. Tabitha Harding actually smiles. Who knew? "Okay. Good, great," she said. Then she held out a few pages of paper with what looked like photocopies handwritten notes on them, albeit notes so neat they could almost have been typed. "Here are the thoughts I pulled together this morning. I'm afraid that's all we've got for now, but I'll work up a more thorough treatment, and hopefully when we come back to filming after the weekend I'll have the necessary preparations in place?"

Tabitha sobered then, reaching for the notes the producer was offering. "Any changes will have to be run past the board - they're not going to like the idea of changing a formula that's already working.

"Mm, yeah, I know," Michelle said, a slight smirk creeping onto her features. It seemed as though the idea of doing something the executive committee for the show didn't like was something she saw more as a bonus to her plan rather than a drawback.

"Well. I suppose that's where my creativity comes in. Leave them to me - when we meet again after the weekend I'll let you know how I get on."

Michelle's smirk grew a shade conspiratorial, and she pushed to her feet. "Great. Go get 'em," she said with a wink, before turning to go.

"Thanks."

 

Since they were filming the introductory section for the New Year episode this morning, there was no need for Tabitha to wear her 'LBD', and her make-up was back to its usual levels rather than the ridiculous amount she had to wear the previous day. Perhaps this was the reason for her noticeably improved attitude, but Michelle couldn't help but wonder if her idea had had something to do with it as well. She watched as the other woman quickly ran through her lines, moving to hit each mark right on cue, and marvelled at the different faces she seemed to wear depending on the circumstances. There was the face for the camera which, while pretty to look at, seemed to have very little going on behind it - in contrast to the face from the night before, stripped of its makeup and unable to mask the unhappiness Harding felt in her current circumstances.

Then there was that slight spark in the dressing room earlier that morning - that almost dangerous grin. That was a peek at an altogether different Tabitha Harding again, and one that Michelle was suddenly very keen to bring out to the forefront. Must look out some old tapes of the Cook Off and A Tale Of Two Kitchens...

 

"So wait," Stuart said, propping his feet up on the coffee table and raising his chin to watch Michelle as she dumped a bag of crisps into a waiting serving bowl. "You're not only back on her show, but you're revamping the entire thing? A slight change from 'screw her, let her drown in her own hubris' don't you think?"

"Well, that was before she apologised and I felt like an arsehole," Michelle said. "Feet. Off," she added, kicking at Stuart's legs before flopping down onto the couch beside him.

"Even though she was probably only doing it to get you back, not because she actually felt bad?"

"Whatever, it was still a big thing for her. And you know me, I'm all about positive reinforcement. Didn't want to reward her climbing down with a kick in the teeth, y'know?"

"Well, it still sounds like you're going above and beyond," Stu replied, scooping up a handful of crisps. "Especially with your weekend watching - don't you get enough cookery Monday through Friday?"

"Apparently not," Michelle said with a grin, reaching for the clunky old remote to the VCR she kept tucked in a shelf at the bottom of her entertainment system and un-paused the frozen screen in front of them, ridding it of its telltale fuzzy horizontal 'pause' lines and jumping back into action. Almost immediately an image of Tabitha Harding was before them, moving back and forth across the screen in motions that should've looked frantic but instead seemed perfectly controlled and effortless as she stooped to check an oven before returning to the bubbling pots on the stove and then turning almost immediately to attack a pile of vegetables on the counter with a wicked-looking knife.

"--Harding seems to have recovered from the earlier setbacks but only time will tell whether she's coped well enough to impress the judges - remember it's the finished product they're ultimately going to be looking at and switching menus midway through the competition isn't really the way to ensure a well-executed meal - or even a finished product at all!"

It was astounding, really, to think that it had been fully fourteen years ago that Harding had first been on television. The woman in front of her had changed a little in appearance - her face a little rounder, her figure a little slimmer, and the rather more slapdash production of the nineties hadn't stretched to availing a young cookery show contestant of the talents of their make-up department such that her freckled cheeks were rather ruddy in the heat from the various pots and pans bubbling and simmering away around her. Mental note: less make-up.

What had really changed, though, was her personality. This Tabitha Harding was still focused, still driven, but it was clear she was doing what she was doing out of passion, not obligation. She was animated, muttering away to herself, long-fingered hands flying in descriptive arcs around her body. A smirk was never far from her lips, lips that slipped into a genuine grin of pleasure every time she tasted her creations, revealing endearingly crooked front teeth. When she was revealed as the winner at the end of the episode she actually bounced up and down, a look of disbelief and joy on her face.

"So," Michelle said as the credits rolled and she turned off the tape. "What d'you think?"

"That's not the same person. Right? It's actually some huge cover-up or doppelganger thing.."

"Be serious, Stu, I need help here. You're a director; how would you bring this Tabitha Harding back out?"

"God," her brother said, sighing and hitching a foot up on the table in front of him. "I mean, the easiest answer would be put her back in a similar situation - if she's bored with what she's doing, challenge her. Can you arrange a cook-off, something with a competition element in it? Maybe make it a big thing, get a couple of other celebs in on it..."

"Well, I can't get any other celebs in in the current series; they're going to be over budget as it is," Michelle said. "But that was my plan, certainly. I had a chat with Duncan and he's on board, although the rest of the execs are going to be a harder sell. Basically what I want to do is have her start each show blind - she'll have a stock of core stuff - you know, boring herbs'n'spices, flour, salt, oil - all the stuff everyone's got in their cupboard - and a single key ingredient like I dunno, chicken or potatoes or salmon or whatever. And then for everything else she's picking, oh, say, six of a dozen covered dishes of ingredients and whatever six she gets, those are the ones she's cooking with that episode. Filming'll be fast and gritty, no polite sheen on mistakes or failures, just Tabitha flying by the seat of her pants with whatever's in front of her."

Stuart nodded slowly, idly sucking salt off of his fingers as he sat, deep in thought. Then, suddenly he grinned and turned towards Michelle. "Hey, if you want seat-of-the-pants with no extra budget... why not give her her menu to prepare and then take away one of her appliances last minute? Like, you're getting ready for a dinner party and your oven breaks - shit! What are you gonna do with these chicken breasts now? Might be fun..."

Michelle nodded. "Certainly it's all about making do with what's in front of you, even if it's not exactly what you wanted - I mean, that's how she made her name in the first place, y'know? In that show, making shit up."

"It's a pretty big change - you think she'll go for it?"

"I'm sure of it. And then I think she'll hate me. And then I think she'll come round." Michelle sighed, shooting Stu a wry smile. "I dunno," she said. "I hope so."

 

"They went for it." Tabitha looked pleased, almost triumphant. "Not immediately, but it looks like I still have some weight to throw around."

"Glad to hear it." Michelle couldn't keep the broad grin from her face - for all her determination to remain professional she had to admit at least to herself that felt almost gleeful at what, after all, a wilfull subversion of a currently successful product.

"Of course, if it doesn't work they'll have my head, and probably yours, just so you know what you've signed up for. Although I suppose with your new arrangement you don't really care if this crashes and burns." The other woman looked as if she had spent some time considering whether or not this was deliberate sabotage on Michelle's part before deciding that she didn't really care one way or the other.

"I still care. Or, y'know, as much as I cared before."

"Hm. Well, regardless, you have the green light now. Fuck with the show all you like, as long as I never have to wear heels in the kitchen again," Tabithaa said, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

Michelle grinned. "When I'm king of the world no one will ever have to wear heels ever again," she said. "And I may ban them for giants like you," she added, rather overestimating Tabitha's only moderately tall figure.

"Just what we need, a world ruler with a Napoleon complex," Tabitha snorted. It took Michelle a moment to realize she was joking. Probably.

"Actually, you're quite right," Michelle said now, waiting for Tabitha's raised eyebrows before going on, "'Emperor Michelle' sounds way better than 'King Michelle'."

The response was another snort, though Michelle was almost convinced it was one of amusement rather than derision. She didn't get a chance to hear Harding's reply, however, as Paul hurried up, a phone in one hand and a panicked expression on his face.

"It's Anthony, Ms. Harding, he says there's a problem with one of the stoves, and h--"

"It's fine, I'll take it," the chef said, reaching for the mobile even as she turned back to Michelle. "I'll see you on set, Ms. Tait."

A smile played on Michelle's lips as she nodded, and turned to make her way over to speak to Laura where she was seated in her director's chair. A problem with one of the stoves, huh?

"Wait, what?" Tabitha's disapproving face, free of all but a hint of eyeliner and mascara, stared out of the monitor Michelle, Laura, and several others were currently crowded around. "You want me to do what?"

"Just pick six," Laura called now, obviously trying quite hard to keep the amusement out of her voice. "Any six you like."

"You're getting all this, right?" Michelle muttered, sotto voce to the director sitting beside her, to be answered with an almost imperceptible nod.

"Six what? 'Mystery ingredients'? How am I to know you idiots haven't put... I don't know, tripe and aniseseed in there?"

"You don't," Michelle called now. "We just figured you could make do with whatever you got. I mean, I guess we can have another rethink if you're not up to it..."

"The hell you will," Tabitha replied, obviously still too surprised to realize she was being goaded into cooperating. She reached for the covered bowl nearest her, sliding it across the granite worktop with a scrape. "Six, you say?"

"Plus what's in the cupboard, and the fillet steak in the fridge."

"Fine, okay, fillet steak..." Tabitha chose five more ingredients in quick succession and then turned to investigate the cupboard, talking to herself the whole time - luckily Michelle had thought to insist she wear a lapel mike clipped to the collar of her shirt.

Apparently satisfied that the cupboard at least gave somewhere to start, Tabitha pulled out a few of the basic ingredients before turning back to the row of bowls - the remainder of unchosen ones having been removed by a helpful runner while her back was turned.

"Okay, so..." She pulled the cover off of one of the bowls, wrinkling her nose as she leaned closer. "What the fuck is this? Hazelnuts? Jesus, you people... fine, whatever..."

Hazelnuts were not the strangest ingredient, but there were some lucky choices too - she also uncovered mushrooms, some blue cheese, potatoes and fresh rocket, all of which seemed to please her greatly.

"All right. Here we go..."

What followed were several hours of some of the most interesting television Michelle had ever been party to the filming of. Tabitha didn't immediately transform back into that enthusiastic, vivacious nineteen year old, but there was most certainly a change to be witnessed in the chef as she forgot about the cameras, needing all her attention for the task ahead of her. There were no retakes, no planned shots - her only nod to the camera was to hold this or that pose when a camera came for a close up of this or that stage of preparation.

The meal she prepared was interesting as well - instead of taking the perhaps more traditional route she blanched the hazelnuts and used them along with the rocket to create a delicious-smelling pesto which she mixed with the roasted potatoes, while at the same time preparing blue cheese-stuffed mushrooms, which had Michelle's mouth watering by the time they were done.

"There," she announced finally, deftly arranging each portion on a plate and giving a small flourish. "Told you I could do it

Her statement was initially met with something of a stunned silence. Michelle waited with baited breath. After a long moment, she heard Laura inhale, clearly about to speak, when finally the room seemed to draw to the conclusion of its silent discussion and she was interrupted by loud applause.

The chef looked baffled, quickly waving down the applause with a frown on her face. "What the hell are you doing?" She asked over the last scattered claps. "You don't even know if it's any good or not! You!" She said, pointing at the nearest crewmember, a startled-looking gaffer. "Come here and taste it."

The bewildered young man, obviously rather anxious at having been unexpectedly drawn on-camera, did as he was instructed, first cutting into the stake.which was a perfect medium-rare, done with just a light olive oil-based marinade so as to avoid taking attention away from the supprting dishes.

He nervously lifted the bite to his mouth, but almost as soon as it passed his lips he broke into a grin. "It's really good!"

Some of the onlookers relaxed, but Tabitha didn't, and Michelle cupped her hands around her mouth to heckle from the sidelines. "Of course it's good, it's steak! Anyone can do steak!"

"Oi, that is a bloody lie!" Tabitha protested even as the crewman scooped up a forkful of potatoes.

"Totally true! If it goes wrong you just pretend you meant it," Michelle continued, delighted by the juxtaposition of Tabitha's expression of consternation with the expression of borderline ecstasy on the part of the gaffer as he tasted the potato concoction. "'I meant that, it was meant to be well-done - no, no, it's supposed to be blue'..."

"Oh, you probably can't even microwave a frozen meal - what do you know about cooking?" Tabitha demanded, looking like she was about to start swinging.

By now the crew was more or less evenly divided by those stunned, confused and a little scared by present proceedings, and those who were highly amused to the point of the fits of giggles that Laura was doing her damnedest to stifle. One of the amused parties was the secondary camera operator, Kirsty, who'd had the presence of mind to turn her camera on the sidelines where Michelle stood.

"Oh, my god," said the gaffer now, in a distinctly camp tone. "These mushrooms. Are amazing."

"Oh, of course they are," Tabitha said. flippantly with a dismissive wave of her hand, stern expression still firmly fixed on Michelle. "See? It's good. now you can applaud."

Michelle decided that this was clearly exactly the right time for a slow golf clap, a smirk having settled firmly over her features. She had just enough time to duck as the nearest projectile to hand - a leftover half potato - came flying towards her, winging the boom mike behind her and causing it to spin wildly. Half the crew gasped while the others could no longer keep in their laughter, and as the set dissolved into peals of giggles Tabitha stalked off, her profanity-laced muttering recorded for all to enjoy.

Undaunted, Michelle turned to her director. "So," she said, grinning. "Think we can get an episode out of that?"

"I think," Laura said between giggles, "I love you."

 

"Seriously, Stu, you should've seen her - it was magnificent. Not like when she was a kid, riding on raw talent and optimism, it was even better than that - she managed to keep up this totally coherent stream of advice and explanations even though she had to be making shit up on the spot!"

"Yeah, but is it watchable? It might've been fun in the studio, but it sounds like a nightmare to edit..."

"I have faith in Laura," Michelle said determinedly, pointing a tortilla chip in Stu's direction, a tiny spot of salsa falling from its tip onto the table between them. "She looked like all her Christmasses had come at once. Besides," she added. "What we gain in extra editing time we totally lost on filming time - we were finished nearly four hours early."

Stuart gave an impressed whistle, reaching for a napkin to wipe up the drip. "Not bad. And Harding was happy with how it went?"

"I have no idea - I didn't dare go and talk to her afterward. But... I think so. Sort of."

"Well, I guess she didn't fire you on the spot, so that's a good start."

"Well, she already fired me once and that didn't work, so..."

"Yeah, you're like herpes, impossible to get rid of."

"Stuart Tait, please don't say compare your sister to a venereal disease."

"Sorry, Mum," he muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Besides," her mother continued, reaching across the table to squeeze Michelle's hand, "perseverance is what it's all about. And we're very proud of you."

Michelle made a face, as usual half touched, half embarrassed. "Thanks, Mum. Oh, so, has Stuart told you the latest on our project?"

"He was just starting to before you arrived, but we'd love to hear more."

"Well, we've agreed on a script," Michelle said. "And I'm chasing up funding as we speak - a couple of people seem really interested, too."

"That's brilliant, sweetheart. Have you thought about casting?" she asked Stuart then.

"Yeah, we've started drawing up a few names, hopefully we can run some sessions once the funding's secured..."

"Actually, if you fancy helping out, Mum, there's a part you'd probably be really good for," Michelle said then, ignoring the dirty look her brother gave her.

"Oh, well, I'm happy to read for it, but I don't want you just taking the easy route."

"Well, can we keep you in mind? This is going to be on a bit of a shoestring regardless, and your name on the cast list might really help us if it comes down to the wire..."

"Of course, sweetheart. You know I'm always here for you."

Michelle grinned, spearing a piece of chicken with her fork and popping it in her mouth, chewing and swallowing before saying. "So Dad, he's at a, what, a charity thing tonight?"

Her mother nodded, giving her an apologetic smile. "He wanted to be here to hear about the filming, but he just couldn't get away. But he wanted me to tell you he's still on for next weekend."

"Oh, fabulous," Michelle said, perking up. "I'm really looking forward to it - I can't believe I've been poring over so many hours of footage of Tabitha Harding's cooking and never actually been to her restaurant."

"Well, I'm sure it'll be a treat."

"I've certainly heard nothing but good things about it."

 

"Oh, Ms Harding! What a surprise, we had no idea you were coming." For once Tabitha could tell this was the truth - mainly because she hadn't told Paul she was stopping by the restaurant so he had no chance to forewarn the staff.

"I know, Fiona, it's all right, I just wanted to... where's Daniel?" She asked then, spotting an empty workstation.

"Off sick," the younger woman replied with a grimace. "Food poisoning, if you can believe that - not from here, obviously."

"That's a shame - I hope he's better soon." Tabitha glanced at the station once again, then back at the sous-chef, raising her eyebrows. "If you haven't found a replacement yet I'd be happy to step in..."

Fiona looked aghast at this idea, but quickly rearranged her face into a more neutral expression, "Oh, I'm sure we'll be fine, and anyway, um, if anything I could take over from him and you should manage, I mean, he's just-"

"I'd really like to cook tonight, Fiona. If that's all right."

The other woman's mouth dropped open slightly, and she just nodded mutely.

"Great!" Ignoring the other woman's look of astonishment Tabitha hurried off to change into her whites, a pair of which she always kept in her office.

 

Perhaps it wasn't everyone's idea of a nice Sunday evening's activity, working in the hot, bustling kitchen of a busy upmarket restaurant, but Tabitha couldn't remember the last time she felt so relaxed. The familiar sights, smells and sounds reminded her of earlier days spent surrounded by her peers, long days and late nights that left them exhausted but content. Though the current staff were unsure at first of how to treat her they soon slipped into their regular patterns and Tabitha became no more than another chef, busily filling orders with the rest of them.

By the end of the evening she was more tired than she'd been in a long time, and closer to happier than she'd felt in longer still. The fact that she had no one to share this contented state with threatened to banish it, however, and as the kitchen closed up for the night she shut herself in her office, turning on the rarely-used computer and pouring herself a glass of wine.

Tabitha was tech-savvy, and kept up with her 'internet presence', more-or-less, although without much interest and her Facebook page and Twitter feed were almost entirely maintained by Paul.

Tonight she first checked her investment portfolio - again, she was reasonably able and probably could've managed it herself but had a suite of people to do it for her. She liked to keep an eye on things, however, and she was pleased to see some recent purchases seemed to be doing well.

Following this, she logged in to her email - another thing that Paul monitored for her, passing on important information and making sure she read any she needed to. It had been checked earlier that day, and so there were only a handful of messages unread.

Not too surprisingly, one of them was from Michelle Tait, some notes for the upcoming filming in the morning. With the new format there was little preparation for Tabitha to do, which had opened up space in her schedule for her to do other things - like spend the evening in her own kitchen for once. In addition to this, the new format had started to rekindle her enjoyment of cooking, even for an 'audience', and she actually found herself looking forward to the day's challenge, which would test her skill and her improvisation. Thus far she had not failed to create a delicious meal out of the ingredients provided - a meal which a different member of the crew was pulled up in front of the camera to try each time - but she knew there would come a day when she might not manage. And that, for some reason, made it all the more fun.

Michelle Tait herself was almost becoming a 'character' in her own right, frequently heckling from the sidelines as Tabitha worked, deriding her efforts and expressing skepticism about her choices, only to be proven wrong every time at the end of the episode. The sound techs seemed to have cottoned onto this screenworthy banter from their telegenic Producer (apparently at some point in the past week's negotiations the 'Associate' had been dropped although Tabitha had no idea when), and Tabitha wasn't sure whether Michelle herself had noticed but there was now a boom mic quite near her at all times.

At first she had been annoyed by the 'banter' - she had almost considered demanding Tait be kept off the set after the first filming - but Paul had managed to talk her down, and by the next day her enthusiasm to cook had overridden her annoyance and she had submitted to the heckling again, finding it more palatable as she realized that the other woman couldn't possibly be serious. At least, she didn't think she was.

In any event, they were now running to schedule or under, the crew and resources were back under control, and despite the new format being entirely unpredictable and haphazard on the face of it things seemed to be going more smoothly than ever. Obviously Michelle's experience in 'semi-reality' television in the past had helped her in this regard.

It was still a risk, mind, as they had yet to show it to any test audiences to gauge their response. If they preferred the old Tabitha the board would not hesitate to quash this new endeavour and insist on reverting back to the way things used to be.

And if they did, what then? Could Tabitha face going back to standing around in heels with inch-thick make-up, occasionally breaking from her banal cooking monologue to state some bloody obvious piece of 'good hostess' advice?

Not bloody likely, Tabitha thought, hitting 'reply' and quickly typing down a few thoughts she had on the upcoming episode. Though it had taken a lot of hard work to get where she was today, somewhere along the way she had gotten swept up and carried along on the momentum of it all and perhaps she hadn't been as careful with the things she had agreed to as she should have. But I'm going to start now. No more messing about. And if the board wants to fire me, well... fuck 'em.

To her surprise, a response to her email popped up almost immediately - just a short one, this time.

Oi, what are you doing up at this time on a school night? Early start tomorrow!

Arching an eyebrow, Tabitha wrote an equally short response.

Last I checked, I was a grown adult who could choose to stay up as late as I liked.

There was a wait after that, and Tabitha began to think that that was to be the end of their exchange, but then, just as she had begun to close her various browser tabs for the night, another message popped up.

Guess you'll just have to hope you get a bowl of cucumber tomorrow for the eye-bags...

Smirking, the chef reached to top up her wine glass, settling in for a sligtly longer reply.

I'm sure you think you're very funny, or have you forgotten you're on-screen nearly as much as I am nowadays? I wouldn't cast any stones about looking haggard when you're up just as late as I am, and you don't get a lovely makeup crew to make sure you look presentable.

This time, the reply was near-instantaneous.

I suit haggard. I do fabulous haggard-hair.

"Hah," Tabitha said aloud, leaning over her keyboard.

Oh, so that 'look' last week was intentional? I had no idea.

--- [we'll figure out how to differentiate]---

Hey, I'm doing two jobs right now, you know.

---

If this is you angling for a raise, the answer is hell no.

---

See you say that, but I've already had a promotion. Not bad for someone kicked off the set a couple of weeks ago...

---

I'm sure you owe all you have to your cockiness, but it's really quite annoying.

---

Whatever. It's working for you so far, isn't it?

Tabitha sat back to consider this - certainly something about Tait's touch was working, though she didn't want to give the other woman the satisfaction of knowing she thought that.

If I said anything elsee to contribute to that swollen head of yours it probably wouldn't fit on camera tomorrow, so I'll refrain.

Another longer pause. Then,

That's okay, I'll just pretend you said something lovely and react to it anyway. I never knew you thought that - how flattering!

Blessed are the delusional...

Tabitha wrote with a snort.

Anyway, I am signing off now - you'll just have to make up the rest of my insults yourself. I'm sure you'll manage.

There was just time, before she signed off, to receive one last email.

I am shocked and apalled that you would say such a thing. And that is so my real hair.

 

"Paul, I want you to contact the restaurant, see if there's a space for me in the kitchen next Sunday," Tabitha announced first thing Monday morning, favoring the young man with a smile. "I might want to make it a regular thing, when I can."

"Um, sure," Paul said, looking somewhat shocked - though it could've been the smile. "I mean, Fiona's the regular duty manager on a Sunday as it's Anthony's day off, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind assisting."

"Just make sure she knows it's no reflection on her - that I'm quite pleased with her work."

"Right, yes, absolutely," Paul said, nodding feverishly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Michelle felt far from bright eyed and bushy tailed this morning. Her brief exchange with Tabitha by email had taken place on her phone while she conducted a long 'production meeting' with her brother and the writer they'd found, a talented young student called Katie. This meeting had taken the form of a late night drinking session in which Stu had insisted they 'bond', which seemed to be synonymous with 'drink a lot and argue about the arts'. Michelle didn't regret a moment of it, but she did regret trying to keep pace with two people in their early twenties with nowhere to be in the morning when it came to tequila shots.

Laura greeted her with a wave, looking up from her last-minute note revision. "My, don't you look... crispy," she commented with a grin.

"Shuttit, you," Michelle said, though she smiled back. "Fortunately there isn't much for me to do today, unless you have anything you want to discuss from last week's footage before our meeting this evening?"

"Mm, no... go on, get a coffee and crawl under a table for a while. Ms. Grumpypants practically skipped in here this morning so I probably won't even need you on wrangling duties."

"Skipped? Really? Huh." Michelle looked mildly surprised, but not enough to inquire any further as she turned to head for her office to hide out.

Unfortunately she was not to have an entirely uninterrupted morning, as not long after installing herself in her chair she was roused by a knock at the door

"C'min," she called huskily, propping her head up with her chin resting on her hand, elbow on the table as she leant over it, her other hand wrapped around her fresh mug of coffee.

The door opened to reveal one of the set dressers - what was her name? Lily? Violet? - who stepped in with a somewhat confused expression on her pretty face. "Sorry to disturb you, Ms Tait."

"No, that's fine, sweetheart," Michelle said with a weary but genuine smile. "How can I help you?"

"Um, Ms. Harding asked me to bring this by..." the girl stepped forward, placing something on Michelle's desk - a knobbly cucumber on a plate and a large knife beside it.

Michelle stared for a long moment. Then she began to snigger. "Shit..." she murmured, although she sounded thoroughly amused. She had a good mind to stick the knife into the cucumber, and send it back, but eventually she opted instead for lifting the knife, and beginning to slice. "Thanks," she said, glancing up at the still-hovering assistant before sitting back in her chair and closing her eyes, gently laying a slice of cucumber over each eye. "That'll be all."

"Um, okay." She heard the door open and then close again and was left alone in the room, the smell of fresh cucumber suffusing the air.

 

 

 

 

 

Michelle emerged from her office in time for filming to start, feeling that she ought to at least watch enough of it that she could scatter her now trademark interjections now and then in spite of what she might or might not look like on camera. She found Tabitha in her element, swiftly choosing her six ingredients and then revealing them with a variety of reactions, from a nose wrinkled in disgust to a smirk of pleasure.

She was looking just as energetic as Laura had said, immaculately turned-out as usual and if anything more upbeat than she usually would be at this time of the day.

"Okay, so, half of these are rubbish and I can't ever think when you'd be forced to cook with curry and peanut butter, except in some sort of culinary gulag," she said, shooting a daggered look at the camera, "but it's fine, we can work with it."

As usual, though, Tabitha quickly figured out what she wanted to do with the ingredients at her disposal, and even managed to find a use for the peanut butter. Everybody watched in awe as she got stuck in, the real-time cooking somehow much more interesting than the pre-prepared dishes they had featured before even though they took much longer to actually prepare on-screen.

"I feel like I'm actually learning to cook watching this," Michelle heard one of the runners mutter to a fellow staff member, and it made her smile.

Eventually it reached the point in the filming where a crewmember was to be recruited for the 'taste test', and somehow Michelle was not at all surprised when the chef pointed her way, motioning for her to come join her behind the counter, a sly grin on her lips. "C'mon up, Michelle, it's your lucky day..."

"Oh, you're going to make me eat today because you know I'm hungover," Michelle deadpanned as she approached, her 'producer head' delighted with the choice. "How droll."

"If only I had gotten bacon and eggs - I could've made you a lovely fry-up," Tabitha replied in a faux-sympathetic simper. "Too bad somebody gave me peanut butter instead."

"Fine, whatever, but we're cutting the bit where I projectile vomit."

"Don't. You. Dare."

Michelle's stomach, despite her protestations, was actually perfectly fine by this point, although she made a show of looking as fragile and reluctant as possible as she lifted the fork to her mouth. The food was, of course, heavenly.

Tabitha watched expectantly, eyebrows raised. As she placed her fork carefully back down onto the plate, Michelle met her gaze head-on, and for just a moment they could have been alone in one of their own kitchens - it wasn't about playing for the camera like most of Michelle's banter, it was just her, and Tabitha, and a slight smile settled over her features now as she drew the moment out.

"Very good," she said, in that understated tone that spoke more highly of the dish than any amount of over-exuberant praise would have. Tabitha didn't say anything, their eyes still locked, Michelle's twinkling with an approval that went beyond that of a producer pleased with their product and into something that seemed almost like fondness.

"Okay, thanks girls, cut."

Michelle blinked, looking round quickly. The camera man who'd zoomed in was giving her a thumbs up, and she realised, as she shook her head to clear it, that he must have assumed that they were deliberately holding the pose for him.

"Right, that's us - good work again everybody," Laura announced to the crew in general and shortly the set was bustling with people tidying up, reviewing footage, preparing things for the next day's shooting. Tabitha turned away, turning on the tap and soaping her hands, apparently quite focused on this task.

"See you tomorrow, then," Michelle said now, to Tabitha's back.

"Mm. Try not to show up hungover again - today was mildly amusing but again would just be embarrasing." Even with her back turned Tabitha's words were cutting, and Michelle actually reeled back slightly, stung. She felt her brow furrow, her face suddenly tight, a telltale heat behind her eyes.

"Fuck you."

The words were out before she even thought about it, coming right up from somewhere deep inside her with no explanation, no justification other than that somehow right at that moment Tabitha's words, and her tone, had managed to cut Michelle right to the bone.

Now that they were out, there was no staying to explain herself, either - knowing that if the other woman were to turn around Michelle would either hit her or burst into tears, her self-preservation instinct kicked in, and she spun round, leaving the set, walking as fast as she could without arousing any suspicion or raising any eyebrows, praying that no one had heard them, or spotted the stricken look that she couldn't seem to wipe from her own face.

 

"Hey, I've got those scenes f-- wow, sis, you look like shit. " Stuart stepped back to let Michelle into his flat, looking slightly concerned. "Those last few shots really weren't such a good idea, huh?"

Michelle favoured him with what she hoped resembled a brave grimace, though her hangover was long simce gone. "Yeah, I apparently lack the resilience of my youth."

"See, we tried to tell you that last night..." Stu gave her a friendsly push towards the sofa, making his own way to the refrigerator. "Anyway, I've got those new scenes to look over. Karen dropped them off this morning."

"Brilliant, let's do it."

"She's great, isn't she? Katie, I mean. So smart. Funny." Stu pulled two cans of Coke out of the fridge, tossing one to Michelle. "We got lucky to get her on board."

Michelle raised her eyebrows at this, though she also nodded and smiled. "She's very talented, she said.

"Anyway. You want to start with Scene Four, and I'll take Six?"

"Whatever works for you," his sister said with a nod.

 

Stuart took his readthroughs quite seriously, and it was several hours later that they finished, having ordered takeaway to sustain them while they worked. Michelle found that her mood had in fact lifted a little, and not for the first time she found herself feeling very thankful that she had work she loved, and a brother whose company never failed to comfort her however rlow she felt.

"So," Stu said now, returning from dumping their takeaway containers into the bin, " why don't you tell me what's really up?" He flopped down next to her and turned to look quizzically at her.

Michelle sighed, reaching to fiddle with the ringpull from her long-finished coke can. "Tabitha Harding was mean to me?" she offered lamely.

"Oh," Stu said sympathetically, reaching to pat her shoulder, "but she's a bitch."

"I know," the other woman said with a tired, wan smile. "But she blindsided me."

"Well, what'd she do?"

His sister made a face. "It's... complicated. You kind of had to be there, it was all about the context."

"Did she fire you?"

"Hah. No. She wouldn't dare at this point. No, she was just... really cold."

"Cold? Isn't that her thing?"

"Yeah, well, like I said. Context."

"Don't let her get to you. People like that are all about power, so don't give her the satisfaction. You're the one with the brilliant ideas and the talent - she's probably just jealous."

Michelle sighed again, relaxing back a bit in her seat. "I s'pose. I just... I thought we were finding an equilibrium, y'know? And I guess I was wrong."

"Well, I'm sorry - for what it's worth, I think you're great," Stuart said with a grin.

"You're my brother - you have to say that."

"Yup, pretty much."

"Mm. Well. Anyway. We still meeting with Katie on Thursday evening? We're due to wrap up filming for the series so it might run over a little..."

"Uh huh, that's okay. We'll just go over stuff until you get here."

"Great," Michelle said with a nod. "And then they'll be into audience testing, which will mean some meetings for me but not like a daily thing, and then I'm all yours until Italy in September."

"Excellent. Oh, did I mention I got a call from Euan..." And he was off again, back into 'work head' again, and Michelle was grateful for the distraction once again.

 

She arrived home much earlier than she had the previous evening, at least, and completely sober, although rather than going to bed to catch up on her lost sleep she found herself sitting down at her laptop and opening her email. She knew she hadn't received any important emails as her phone was with her all the time, but nevertheless she found herself going to her inbox.

Almost against her will she found herself clicking on the emails from Tabitha Harding, reading back over their exchanges from the night before. The other woman had been short and insulting, but at the time Michelle couldn't help but feel a certain camaraderie, as if the chef's bluster had been an act put on for their mutual amusement.

Judging by today, she was wrong.

She almost clicked 'reply' to fire off another email, this one taking the other woman to task for her bad attitude, but knew that would be a bad idea, both professionally and personally, and instead, taking a deep breath, she selected the messages and moved them to the trash.

The rest of the filming went well - the crew had settled into the new format, and under Laura's direction and Michelle's guidance they made quick work of the remaining episodes. Michelle was mindful of the fact that her heckling had become something of a marker for the show's new feel, and she bravely kept it up, deftly hiding how little of her heart was still in it. I guess drama school was good for something.

The crew celebrated after the last episode wrapped; there was still plenty of editing work to do, and of course the audience testing to convince the board that the new format was worth putting on the air, but it was with a great sense of relief that Michelle went to her office to collect her things. She would not have to deal with Tabitha or put on a brave face for at least a month, and hopefully that would be enough to recharge her and make the Italy trip bearable.

"So I'll see you with the first cuts in a week, then?" Michelle directed at Laura as they made their way out through the foyer - Laura off for a drink with the crew, Michelle to meet with her brother and Katie.

"Hopefully! Unless it turns out to be completely uneditable, in which case you'll have to chase me down in Mexico or something like that."

"Mm, well, we already have the suites booked for the screentests, so you'd better be ready - that's an order."

"I'll do my best," Laura grinned. She opened her mouth to say more but paused when she saw Paul hurrying towards them, her expression changing to one of guarded politeness. "Everything okay there, Paul?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, sorry, I just wanted to catch you both before you left," the young man replied. "I just wanted to give you these. From Tabitha." He held out two envelopes, each with a name scrawled on the front.

A brief frown crossing Michelle's features, she nonetheless rearranged it into a smile as she looked from the envelope back up to Paul. "Thanks. I think," she said.

"Um, yeah. Anyway. I'll see you both soon - have a good break." With that he turned and jogged back into the building, obviously still hard at work despite the fact that everyone else had left by now.

Michelle looked to Laura, now, and held up the envelope, waving it a little. "Any ideas?" she asked. The rest of the crew were now hovering outside, a couple of them lighting cigarettes while they waited for Laura.

"Oh, probably just more instructions - I'll read mine later, thanks very much," the director said, pocketing hers. "You sure you don't want to come for just one drink?"

"I've really got to go," Michelle said. "Have one for me, yeah? And make sure the crew know I'm not shunning them. Tell 'em I just work too hard," she added with a wink.

"Hey - you came back here after getting a free ride. I'm pretty sure they already know that." Laura grinned again and stepped forward to give Michelle a quick, one-armed hug. "Good luck with the film - I can't wait to hear how you get on."

"I'll see you at the Baftas."

 

Laura was barely out of sight before Michelle, still in the foyer, pulled the envelope back out of her pocket and tore it open. Inside was not a list of instructions, as Laura had hazarded - not that Michelle had believed that, since Tabitha had shown herself more than capable of sending those via email. Instead it was a card made of thick ivory cardstock and embossed on one corner with the 'T' logo that was used on both the show and in some of the restaurant's branding.

Opening it Michelle was faced with a hand-written note in Tabitha's dense scrawl; it was difficult to make out but eventually she deciphered the message.

With thanks for all your hard work and quick thinking. The show is lucky to have you.

Nestled in the card was also a generous cheque, made out from Tabitha personally.

Michelle stared at the message for a long time, as if part of her was hunting for some hidden meaning in it. Her stomach had twisted into an unpleasant knot, though she couldn't for the life of her see why. It's a thank you note and a cheque - what is there to be upset about?

Maybe it was the cheque - Michelle hadn't gotten into production for the money, and the fact that she was being rewarded for her hard work with money was slightly annoying. Or maybe it was the fact that 'the show' was lucky to have her. She had changed the format, upheaved everything not for the show's sake - it was doing fine as it was - but for Tabitha's.

Stuffing the envelope back in her pocket, Michelle resolved to think no more about it. You already knew she hadn't come round. This is just more of the same. She probably didn't actually mean it as an insult; it's probably just exactly what it is on the surface - a thanks for good work.

 

"All right, good, nice work Scott - just don't let the pace slip." Tabitha gave the young man an approving nod, moving on to the next station and glancing over it to check its cleanliness and preparation.

Scott, who'd been thoroughly nervous at the beginning of the evening, seemed like many of the staff to have relaxed somewhat as the time went on, realising that however formidable and impatient their new duty manager might appear at times, she was a fair boss, and if not actively friendly she was at least congenial and pleasant as long as everyone was working as hard as she was. He shot a grin at the woman at the next station, who still looked a little anxious, but on receiving the same gentle praise as Tabitha moved on positively glowed.

It had been several days since shooting had wrapped up, and Tabitha had looked forward to Sunday night ever since then. She almost wished she had requested to be at a station instead of managing the kitchen, but as the evening went on she found she was enjoying keeping an eye on the staff, watching them create plate after plate of delicious food to send out to the floor.

Every so often, Tabitha would pop through the kitchen door into the main restaurant, staying mostly out of the way, just to quietly observe the diners. She was always pleased by the mix of people she saw at 24a, the varied menu attracting business dinners, couples, friends, and even family groups.

On one such foray onto the main floor she stopped, surprised to see a familiar face among the mix of diners. Michelle Tait was seated at one of the small tables by the window, an older man sitting across from her. It appeared they had arrived not long before - there was a bottle of wine between them, as well as a basket of bread, but no appetizers yet.

Michelle was dressed a little more formally than she usually did for work - that silky dark hair was just back in its usual inadequate ponytail, falling around her ears and face, but rather than her usual parade of worn shirt and skinny jeans she was in a dress, tonight, dark green silk it looked like from here, slash necked, modest and classy. The man opposite her looked immediately familiar, and it took only a split-second's thought to place his dark good looks and distinctive profile as that of Michelle's father, the actor Jonathan Tait.

Tabitha hesitated; there was no onus on her to go socialize, as Michelle and her father were clearly there just for a private meal, but somehow before she realized it she was marching across the floor towards their table without even having stopped to check that her own dark-gray trousers and black collared shirt were free of spatter.

Michelle glanced up, perhaps expecting to see a server approaching, her face registering shock at who was in fact now standing in front of her.

"Um, hello," Tabitha said, offering a polite smile first to Michelle, then her father. "I thought you would have had enough of my cooking by now," she said then, frowning at the lameness of her joke.

"Not at all," Michelle said smoothly, giving Tabitha a smile that was carefully polite. "I confess, I didn't expect to see you here," she said, in a tone that spoke volumes.

"With filming finished, I've had some more time on my hands," Tabitha explained with a shrug. "And it's good to keep an eye on things."

"Well, I'm glad we came tonight, then," piped up Michelle's father in that honey-smooth basso profundo he was so well-known for. "I'm sure the food will be better than ever with you supervising the kitchen - if what Michelle tells me is anything to go by."

"Well, I certainly hope you'll enjoy it," the chef said, turning her attention (and her renewed smile) on the older man.

"I'm sure we will - what would you recommend this evening?"

"Well, that depends - are you a seafood fan?"

"I'm a fan of anything done well."

"Then I'd definitely recommend the cioppino - just don't fill up on bread now, you'll need some later for the juices."

"Excellent," Michelle's father rumbled, favouring Tabitha with a broad smile. The chef couldn't help but smile back at the charismatic man even as her attention was drawn back to his daughter across the table. Michelle, eyes on the menu in front of her, was looking considerably less friendly than her father - she was still smiling, but the expression was fixed, that twinkle she got when she was really amused or happy not present. She seemed to sense the other woman's eyes on her then, and she glanced up, widening her smile - or at least the shape being made by her lips - a little.

"Thanks very much for the recommendation, Ms Harding."

"Of course." Tabitha felt a flare of annoyance - she had given the producer a very generous check to thank her for her work on the show and this was how she acted now? As if Tabitha's presence in her own restaurant was an imposition. "Well. I won't interrupt you any further. Enjoy your evening," she murmured shortly, fighting a frown.

"Thanks," Michelle said, finally speaking again.

Tabitha turned, stalking back to the kitchen and pulling on her chef's whites, frowning with annoyance the entire time. Damn Michelle Tait for turning off and ruining her whole evening - first she interfered at the show, and now the restaurant. What next, is she going to show up at the gym and disapprove of the way I work out?

 

Tabitha didn't reappear on the restaurant floor again that evening, much to Michelle's relief. She thought that she would just move on from the strange, unsatisfactory way they had left things, but she found that seeing Tabitha again had just brought that nasty writhing back into her stomach, to the point where it had been a little difficult to enjoy the truly excellent food they'd been served.

If her father noticed, he didn't say anything, instead asking myriad questions about her new project and its progress. Having experimented with producing a few small films himself in the past he was knowledgeable about the time and effort it took, and was a captive audience to Michelle's stories of their progress thus far.

All-in-all, Michelle finished the evening content enough, the enjoyable company of her father and excellent food making up for the slightly uncomfortable interlude involving Tabitha Harding. The two parted ways as Michelle climbed out of the taxi they'd taken from Soho to her studio in Notting Hill, her father heading onward back to the family home in Harrow.

Tomorrow would start the first week of dedicated work on the film - she had a few meetings with Laura about audience reviews but most of her time would be spent talking to funders and her brother and Katie. As such, she fully intended to get a good night's sleep in order to be well-rested, but this proved to be hard to achieve, her mind still buzzing with the encounter in the restaurant, poring over every detail of her brief exchange with the other woman for meaning, tone, for anything that she could add to her repository of what she knew about Tabitha Harding.

If she had known Harding frequented the restaurant, would she had even gone? She had made the reservations back before Harding's dismissive cruelty on the set, but she hadn't canceled, knowing how much her father was looking forward to the visit. If she had known the possibility of running into her and souring the whole meal existed, maybe she would have tried to find somewhere else to eat, or at least prepared herself for seeing her. She realized then how silly that sounded - Tabitha Harding was only a crabby, overly-bossy control freak. To allow her to upset her like that was giving her too much power.

You're just dwelling. You never usually let yourself dwell. So get over it. It was just so frustrating, having thought that they had reached an understanding, that they were even, perish the thought, becoming friends only to have that thrown back in her face (along with an insulting cheque). That was what was so hard to let go. Michelle Tait was a very charismatic woman, and not one used to being knocked back in any aspect of her life.

Still, she had to accept that she couldn't succeed at everything, and if befriending Tabitha Harding was where she failed, well, she really shouldn't be so hard on herself. Hopefully the time away from the set would allow her to put any niggling thoughts about Harding's rudeness out of her mind completely, and if she needed distractions in the meantime there were plenty of those.

Nevertheless, it was some time before Michelle finally drifted off into a fitful sleep, and she didn't wake the next morning as rested as she would have liked, although she was, at least, feeling fresher than she had the previous Monday.

 

"So! Do you want the good news, or the bad news?" Duncan Moran asked as Tabitha took her seat next to Michelle and Laura, the latter of whom shot her a wide smile, and the former seemingly unable even to look at her. Having been in several meetings over the past week as the screen tests had taken place, the producer and director were presumably already party to whatever Duncan was about to say, but their respective reactions told her very little about what it might be.

"Why don't you just tell me everything and I'll decide what to feel about it?" Tabitha replied snarkily, crossing her legs at the ankles and leaning back in her chair. She had had another morning of interviews and was in a bad mood, one that Moran's chirpy question did nothing to alleviate.

"Okay then!" Duncan agreed, apparently immune as usual to Tabitha's attitude. "The good news is that the audience really digs the new format - it's fresh and edgy without losing sight of the stuff they liked about the old Tabitha, and they love the banter between you and Michelle."

"...okay."

"So that's great. We're going to move on this in a couple of ways," Duncan went on. "Firstly, the audience wants more Michelle - we're not sure quite how that's going to work out just yet, but we forsee a sort of dual producer and regular featured costar sidekick sort of deal. Sort of fictionalise her role a little if you see what I mean."

Tabitha bit back her first response - an explosive 'Like fuck we will' - and smiled thinly, staring straight ahead. "What else?"

"We need to refilm Christmas and New Year in the new format. And unless we pull some extra time out of our arses, we're dropping the episode we filmed before that altogether."

"What?"

Duncan grinned, and breezed on. "Now, the Christmas one we'll just do before Italy, shouldn't be any more time-consuming than the other episodes, and with the time we've saved... New Year, though, well, if we could tempt you, I've managed to clear a big hole in our budget to film it live on the night - Tabitha's New Year, where you cater a party - still a wee select thing, just half a dozen folk, but we're putting out some tentative feelers to see who we might get interested..."

"A hole in the budget - have you thought about the hole in my schedule that's going to need cleared to do something like that?" Tabitha wanted to know, suddenly sitting forward and gesticulating at the man.

"Well, of course, if you can't manage it, we can still pre-record - we might have to push Italy back a little but that's probably not a problem..."

The chef gave an expansive sigh. "The dates for Italy are not going to change. Speak to Paul, have him clear something on my calendar - if this is so pressing then you'll have to work it out yourself."

"Excellent! So, none of the other changes will affect your schedule - we're going to cut a new contract with Michelle to reflect her new role, but you don't need to worry about that."

"So you've agreed to that?" Tabitha asked now, turning to Michelle.

Michelle's lips twitched slightly - was it in amusement, or something else? "I championed this format," she said carefully. "I want to see it through. I'd be... disappointed in myself if I didn't help make it everything it could be."

"Even if it means signing on for another season?"

At this, Michelle hesitated. "We'll see," she said. "For now, I want to see us through this one - and the special."

"Hm. Well, I suppose no one can fault your dedication." Even this sounded like a veiled insult.

At this, Laura cleared her throat. "So shall we find a couple of days to put aside before Italy for Christmas?" she said now.

They soon managed to pencil in a few days for the tentative filming of the Christmas episode, Tabitha checking her schedule on her mobile before begrudgingly agreeing to them as well.

Michelle beat a hasty exit as soon as they left the meeting, though Laura lingered behind. "I'm going to do a new cut of the episodes we're keeping," she said. "Give them more of a shove toward a double-act sort of thing, now that we know the audience likes it."

"Mm. Fine. You're the director," Tabitha said with a shrug, hoping she looked more nonchalant than she felt.

"Great." Laura hesitated, then, before going on. "Tabitha, I know this new format is a bit of a... change from what you've done recently."

The chef raised her eyebrows, checking the time on her mobile before looking back at the director. "Yes, it is. Let me guess, this is where you try to give me some 'tips' to follow to make it seem more 'naturalistic' or some shit like that."

"Um... no?" Laura said, looking a little confused. "No. I was just... acknowledging that this could be a little strange for you. I had thought that you were enjoying it, but-"

"The audiences are enjoying it," Tabitha cut in with a frown. "Isn't that what matters?"

The director returned the frown with a somewhat bemused one of her own. "The audience were doing just fine with things as they were. Tabitha, you must realise that Michelle pulled the show to pieces for you, not the ratings."

Tabitha looked almost shocked to be confronted with this piece of news, though she quickly covered the expression. "And what? Is she expecting some kind of reward? I already gave her my thanks after the filming ended, same as I did you."

Laura made a face that said she had things to say about the mode of Tabitha's 'thanks', but she didn't say anything on the matter, instead pressing on. "No, no, that's not what I meant. I meant that... if this format isn't better for you, there's no... obligation to trail-blaze. The show will be as popular as ever it was if you want to return to the old format."

"No." Tabitha gave a shake of her head, lips pressed together tightly. "No, it's far too late for that. We'll keep the format as it is."

"Even though it's more work for you?"

"It's not work I'm afraid of."

Laura frowned a little again. "What are you afraid of, then?"

Tabitha respected the other woman - she wouldn't have hired her if she didn't, and indeed found her one of the few people whose opinion she could solicit without being regularly annoyed when she opened her mouth. That being said, this was far from the type of conversation she was used to, or comfortable with, having with her - or anyone, for that matter. "Excuse me?" she asked, as archly as she could.

In response, the director only shrugged. "Something about this is bothering you. You seemed so alive, these past few recordings - I know this is much more your thing, I know you prefer the format, the outfits, the look of the thing. I'm just... confused."

"Can you still do your job amidst all this confusion?"

The response wasn't Michelle's expletive of the other week, but Laura did nonetheless looked as though she'd just been slapped. "Of course," she said quietly.

"Well then I suggest you do that." Tabitha checked her phone again and stood then, slipping it into her pocket. "I'll see you for the Christmas re-filming. If you have any questions in the meantime you can contact Paul."

 

"Well, what could I do? I mean, I couldn't take everyone down that path and then refuse to follow it to its logical conclusion?"

"Well yes, but, I don't know... couldn't you have hired somebody else?"

"For what?"

"For the 'sidekick' - I mean, I can tell you don't relish the idea, Mish.You've never wanted to be in front of the camera before..."

Michelle leaned back in the couch, sipping at her bottle of beer, and shook her head. "It wouldn't work," she said. "It's not that kind of show, we can't just... recast me."

"So you're just harnessing yourself to working for some rich cookery bitch? That's not like you."

"It's not like that. This was my idea, Stu, my concept. I can't just abandon it. I started this."

"Yeah, all right," Stuart said with a sigh, shaking his head. "I'm sure you'll get buckets of awards for it, too. I just don't know if it's a good idea."

"It's just a job."

"It's never just a job for you."

"And that's what makes me so good at it," Michelle countered, pointing toward him with her bottleneck.

"Well, yeah, but it's also what makes you so miserable if it's not great."

"It will be great. I'll make sure of it."

"What'd Harding say about it?" he wanted to know then.

"Hah. Not much," Michelle said with a dry smirk. "But she's on board."

"Yeah? Well, good luck, I guess."

His sister raised her eyebrows. "You guess? Thanks for the vote of confidence..."

"Hey, you know I think you'll do great! You don't need luck, at least not with the job."

"Mm. Well. We'll see, I guess."

"Anyway, enough about that job. Katie called me this morning with this really good idea for the climax, she thought maybe we could change location to the bridge, that way we could shoot both scenes at the same time and save some money..."

 

August flew by - the screentesting finished, and preparation began for the refilming. Laura was hard at work on new edits of the existing episodes, with Michelle or Duncan being pulled in to view them as they were completed. Michelle was getting used to seeing herself on camera, now, bantering back and forth with Tabitha, much more of her lines and appearances making it into these new cuts. The rest of Michelle's time was largely taken up in casting and other preparations for Stuart's film, which they had now agreed would begin filming in October after Michelle's return from Italy.

It felt a bit strange stepping back on set at the end of the month to film the Christmas episode. Everyone seemed in relatively good spirits, including Laura, who welcomed Michelle back with a grin and a brief 'script' of the episode to be filmed. "Don't worry about doing anything different than what you've been doing - it's all brilliant," she assured the producer-cum-presenter.

This episode would be a little different from the usual format - rather than have a completely random selection beyond the base ingredient, Tabitha had a most of the ordinary components of a traditional Christmas dinner - the turkey (rather smaller this time), potatoes, sprouts, carrots and the primary components for stuffing. Beyond that there were the usual twelve bowls to choose from, this time including more supplimentary ingredients designed to 'spice things up' (in some cases literally) and combine to make a meal that was at once traditional, but with a flavour of the modern about it.

"There's some really nice footage from the pudding," Laura said now as Michelle surveyed the set, "so we've decided to keep that segment. We're only refilming the main meal."

The only problem was that their chef was nowhere to be found. It wasn't like Tabitha to be late, but as the minutes ticked by it became apparent that she most definitely was, and Michelle couldn't help but wonder if this was some sort of petty power play from the other woman designed to put them all in their places.

"Sorry, sorry we're late!" Paul announced a few minutes later, scurrying up to Laura and Michelle. "There was a meeting that ran over - Ms. Harding will be right in."

Michelle caught touched Paul's shoulder lightly as he made to turn back around, causing the young man to jump a little. "A meeting?" she asked, her voice showing her skepticism. "What gives, Paul; you're never late. There something we should know?"

He stared at her for a moment, opening and closing his mouth before apparently thinking better of it and shaking his head. "Just... don't say anything, please. About being late. Or... well, you'll see.."

Frowning, Michelle let him go, turning immediately to Laura with raised eyebrows. "What the hell?" she muttered.

The director shrugged, shaking her head. "You got me..."

It seemed they weren't to waitt too long to find out what Paul had meant as Tabith swept onto the set, her hair tied back in a bun and dark glasses covering her eyes. "I'll be through in a minute," she told Laura in a slightly hoarse voice before heading for her dressing room.

The other two women watched her go in mute shock.

"Jesus Christ..."

Laura stared after the chef for a moment longer before clearing her throat and turning back to her notes. "Well. Guess we'll be starting shortly - better get ready."

"Has anyone seen Mich- oh, there you are," Michelle's PA said as Michelle turned and she spotted her. Usually when she was on set Suze stayed back at her office to keep up with paperwork and answer her calls, but the past couple of filmings she'd had her around, partly because she knew that Suze wanted to see 'the industry' up close, and partly because the young woman was innovative and hard-working, and had become quite excellent at making things easier for Michelle. Trotting over, Suze sounded somewhat breathless as she spoke. "Hi, sorry. Um, so make-up sent me to ask, do you want some? Make-up, that is," she went on quickly, "because they say Tabitha... well, if you don't want to stand out you might want some," she finished lamely.

Michelle hesitated. There was certainly time, she supposed - the crew were all ready to go so she wasn't needed to wrangle here. Still... "I don't think so," she said, shaking her head. "I'm still crew, I should look like crew."

"Um, all right," Suze replied, biting her lip. "Do you want anything else?"

"Mm, no, I think we're good," Michelle replied with a grin. "You go find somewhere to chill out and just monitor my calls for a bit?"

"Sure thing. I can't wait to watch the filming - the last one was so good."

"Yeah, this one should be... interesting."

 

Fifteen minutes later Tabitha emerged from her dressing room and the crew stirred, readying themselves to begin filming. The chef's hair was still pulled back (as it always way now with the new format, as she had protested loudly that anything else was 'infeasible') but had obviously been brushed out and sprayed before being coiled up again. She was wearing slightly more makeup than was usual but the reason for this became clear as she stopped to talk with Laura and Michelle could see the slight puffiness under her eyes and red-rimmed lids that clearly showed she had been crying quite recently.

Michelle's stomach twisted, then, and she had to prevent herself from sucking in a breath of surprise. She'd assumed that the other woman must have been hungover, not... Michelle, her compassionate side never far from the surface, felt a stab of guilt and sympathy, then, and she had to fight the urge to stall filming a little further to take Tabitha aside to talk.

"Right," the chef said briskly when she had finished her chat with the director, barely glancing at Michelle. "Let's get filming."

Michelle just nodded mutely. She knew that the colour had drained from her face as she glanced over at Laura and the director caught her eye, looking almost as bewildered and worried as she did.

Still, the show must go on, and it seemed Tabitha had every intention of honoring this adage, as she dutifully took her place behind the counter and began her usual 'thinking out loud' monologue that accompanied the beginning of each episode. Her voice was still slightly hoarse, though it could have passed as the symptom of an oncoming cold if one didn't know any better.

Michelle roused herself dutifully and began her catcalls from the edge of the set. She knew they were gentler than usual, but with that unpleasant twist she felt every time she said anything unkind to the other woman, it was really the best she could do. Tabitha responded as she normally did, though perhaps with a bit more annoyance, as if she could sense the other woman's pity and rejected it out of hand.

Still, her cooking was as on-form as ever, and most of the crew seemed to have entirely forgotten anything strange about that morning by the time filming wrapped that afternoon - in record time.

Tabitha disappeared as soon as Laura gave the all-clear, not even bothering to stay to hear any feedback from the director. Laura, busy with post-production tasks, didn't seem to notice, and besides had little feedback except "Another great job, everyone!" to share.

Michelle, on the other hand, spotted the other woman's exit, and in spite of her better judgement found herself heading off-set to the other woman's dressing-room in the hopes of catching her before she left. It seemed, though, that she wasn't to reach her without obstacles, as she was striding - almost running - along the corridor when she almost collided with a typically anxious-looking Paul.

"Oh, Jesus, sorry," she said, immediately stooping to pick up the papers she'd made him drop.

"That's okay, sorry, I wasn't watching," he mumbled, flicking through the papers to try and put them back into some semblance of order. "Did filming go okay?"

"Fine. Paul, what's wrong? What's happened?" Michelle asked now, her face a picture of concern.

"Oh, uh... I really can't say."

"Please, Paul, come on, help me out here - I'm just concerned, I swear, I'm not going to tell anyone."

The young man darted a look up and down the corridor before taking a step closer and lowering his voice almost to a whisper. "It's her father - he's been admitted to the hospital. It looks pretty bad."

"Fuck..." Again, that twist of worry. "Jesus, I'm... what's wrong? Tell me honestly, should we be looking at rescheduling Italy? Cancelling?" God, how self-interested could you sound? Her only thought was of Tabitha as she spoke, but she made a face as she realised that it probably sounded as though she was only concerned about her show's schedule. "Because I'll make it happen," she said then, to clarify. "Anything she needs. But I need to know."

"I don't think she wants to change anything," Paul said with a shake of his head, swallowing. "She just found out this morning and she wouldn't let me reschedule today's filming."

Michelle's brow furrowed a little. "Are she and her father close, d'you know?"

"I didn't even know she had one 'til this morning. She never talks about him."

"I see. Hm. Look, can you keep me posted on this, Paul? In confidence? If she seems as though... as though we could maybe be accommodating her better and she's not saying anything?"

"She'll be angry if she thinks she's being accommodated. It's probably best just to do what she says."

The producer made a face. "I suppose so," she conceded, then closed her her eyes briefly. "Okay, all right. Thanks, Paul."

"Yeah." With another nervous glance down the corridor he hurried off, obviously just as burdened by this knowledge as Michelle now was.

 

Preparations for Italy continued apace. Michelle said nothing to Laura of what she'd learned - if they weren't going to act on it there seemed little point. It didn't stop Michelle from thinking about it, though. She wasn't due to see Tabitha for any reason between now and their departure, but she had lost count of the number of times she'd almost called, almost emailed - hell, even almost showed up at 24a in the hopes that the other woman might be working there.

She trusted that Paul would contact her if there was any dire need, but she knew equally well that Tabitha Harding was not the type to ask for help, and probably the type to throw herself into work in an effort to avoid dealing with difficult circumstances. On the one hand, a trip to Italy might be just the thing she needed to take her mind off of things - on the other, it would be taking her out of the country and further away from her father who for all Michelle knew was still hospitalized.

Still, having reluctantly agreed with Paul that little would be gained from pestering her, Michelle had to leave well alone, and so there had been literally no contact whatsoever between the two women between the filming of the Christmas episode and the day they congregated, along with their small mobile film team, for their chartered flight to Southern Italy.

Tabitha was casually dressed in an outfit Michelle recognized from old episodes of A Tale of Two Kitchens, wearing light linen trousers and a vest with a well-worn jean jacket over the top, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. She nodded to Michelle as she arrived, a small carry-on case next to her feet. "Ms Tait."

Michelle managed a nod and a polite smile in return, and before things could become uncomfortable she found herself swept into a discussion with a member of the camera crew regarding some of the gear they would need to hire once they reached their destination. Before too long they were given the go-ahead to begin loading, and they filed onto the small jet; Tabitha was given a seat at the front of the plane and perhaps unconsciously, perhaps purposefully one by one the crew gave her a wide berth, clustering towards the back and leaving the first two rows empty.

Michelle was the last to board, and immediately found herself with a dilemma. With Laura and Duncan having taken an earlier flight down to attend a meeting before filming began, Michelle was the only other person who 'should' be sitting up toward the front of the plane (though in honesty there was very little real difference in comfort between one end and the other). Should she continue the trend that had been established by the rest of the crew and take a seat with them toward the back? Or would that look stranger than simply sitting near the front 'as befit her station'?

Knowing that dithering would only draw attention to her internal struggle, Michelle eventually took the decision to 'bridge the gap', sitting on the second row of the plane, alone, immediately pulling out her tablet as if to imply that her reasons for sitting by herself were entirely her own, and work-related.

This seemed to solve the problem - or at least refrain from drawing more attention to it - and soon the pre-flight checks and safety speech were finished and the plane began to taxi towards the runway. Through the gaps in the seat ahead Michelle could see that Tabitha had also brought out her laptop, presumably for work, and that the other woman seemed oblivious to the sound of the engines or the announcements made by the flight attendants. As the plane lifted off there was a cheer from the back which made Michelle smile; for better or worse they were off.

 

The flight itself was fairly short and quite uneventful - other than some minor turbulence at one point, everything went smoothly, and they touched down in Salerno slightly ahead of time. The heat hit them in a wave as they got off the plane - it was about 27 degrees, not oppressively hot were it not for the humidity that seemed to hang in the air, immediately finding its way into their lungs, and after only a few minutes out on the small airfield toward the airport's outskirts where they'd landed before they all felt as though they'd been slaving in the hot sun all day rather than for moments.

The idea for the special was to film several day trips out to restaurants that Tabitha had contact in; thus it had been decided the easiest thing would be to rent two villas - one for the crew and equipment and one for Tabitha with a sizeable kitchen should they need to film any additional cookery. It took the most part of the day and some of the evening to get everything moved in and sorted out, but by ten p.m. the crew was out on the balcony with several bottles of local wine toasting the gorgeous location and their good fortune to be there, Michelle among them, unable to maintain her pensive mood in the face of such beautiful surroundings and the satisfaction of a hard day's work well-spent.

Laura had rejoined them, now, with Duncan having headed straight back to London, and had updated Michelle on the contents of their rather routine meeting before joining in their toast. Tabitha was nowhere to be seen; Michelle didn't know if that was by choice or if the crew had neglected to invite her to their celebration. When Paul appeared a little later, looking slightly less stressed than usual, she couldn't help but catch him by the drinks table to ask.

"Oh, um, I told her everybody was out here, but she didn't want to come out. It usually takes her a few days to adjust when we're travelling - I don't think she likes it very much." He seemed more talkative than usual and she wondered if perhaps he had already had a bit of the local vintage - not that there was anything wrong with that.

Michelle invited him to sit with them, then, but managed to wait until Laura got up to fetch some more wine before leaning close enough to talk without anyone else hearing them. "What's the situation with her dad, d'you know?"

"Um, he's still in hospital, I think - I've had a few calls through from them but I don't think she's returned them," he murmured, obviously still sober enough to realize the need for secrecy.

Michelle frowned. "Okay. Thanks."

"Here we go - more vino collapso for everyone!" Laura announced as she returned, offering a brimming glass of red wine to Michelle with a grin. "It doesn't count if we're all hungover tomorrow."

Michelle chuckled, and took the glass gratefully, her demeanor shifting a little as the director returned.

The evening wore on, and as bedtime (or what would be an ordinary bedtime were they not still going strong) approached, Michelle, now somewhat inebriated, found her thoughts straying to the woman alone in the villa next door.

"I should probably go speak to her," she said now, to Laura - Paul having joined the more junior crew members and left the two women chatting more or less to themselves for the past little while. "Check with her about the breakfast thing you suggested."

"Mm, I didn't mean tomorrow morning," the director chuckled.

"Yeah, still, should run it past her before we move any further on it," Michelle said, pushing to her feet. "No time like the present an' all that."

"Mm, sure... good luck!" Laura called as Michelle determinedly made her way towards the interior of the villa.

Michelle was feeling reasonably sensible, still - buzzed, but compus mentis. Nevertheless she found herself checking in the mirror that she didn't look too bleary or unkempt before heading back out the front of the villa and round to the building next door.

 

The last thing Tabitha was expecting at that time of night was a knock on the door - not that the door was locked, but she though Paul would have at least had the foresight to bring a key with him. Sighing, she pushed herself up from the lounger she had been lying somewhat stiffly on and padded to the front door, prepared to give the young man a suitably stern lecture about responsibility. "Did you even tr-- oh. Ms Tait," she said, blinking down at the other woman. "What do you want?"

"Just a quick word, if you have a few," the other woman said, looking up at Tabitha with an expression that was a little more relaxed than it had otherwise been with her, speaking of a certain amount of alcohol consumption, perhaps. "About filming," she added.

"...fine," Tabitha sighed, stepping back to allow the woman in. "I take it this is about tomorrow?"

"Um, not tomorrow, actually," Michelle said as she entered the villa, moving automatically toward the sitting area and perching on the arm of one of the chair. "It's... an idea. That Duncan and Laura came up with. They think it would really add something to the new format but I told Laura I didn't think it would fly with you so..." Michelle trailed off, then shrugged. "Figured it should be nipped in the bud sooner rather th'n later."

Michelle sounded a little different from usual - funnily enough despite the slight fuzziness around the edges of her consonants (no doubt due to some wine consumption), her accent seemed slightly more refined than usual, as though that tiny hint of 'London' that was present in her usual speaking voice was perhaps not how she had originally spoken. It made sense, of course, given her parents and education, but it was interesting nevertheless to hear that privately educated, well-spoken side creeping through.

"As much as I love other people making my decisions for me," Tabitha said dryly, "why don't you tell me and I'll decide?"

"Um, okay, so, basically," Michelle went on, now, even as her face registered a little hurt at Tabitha's tone, "the idea is that we cook some meals in your kitchen here - you and I, together, I mean, me Idunno, skivvying, following instructions or whatever - sort of maintaining a fiction that we're sharing the villa. Sort of a friends holidaying together thing. Or enemies. Whatever, either way. Anyway they thought it would help make your monologues more realistic 'cause you'd be explaining stuff, and add to the whole double-act thing that the test audiences seemed to like so much. So..." Michelle trailed off, shrugged. "There it is," she said. "It's a decent idea, but-"

"It's a good idea," Tabitha interrupted, frowning thoughtfully. "It makes sense, though I've never shared my kitchen before, at least on-screen."

"Right, and I mean, it's time you might otherwise have to yourself, too, and I appreciate that might not be someth-"

"You don't want to do it, do you?"

"-ing that- what?" Michelle blinked in the face of this question, her mouth still open. It was a moment before she collected herself to answer. "I'm invested in this format, one hundred per cent," she said. "I'm happy to do anything that will make for better, more interesting television - I put myself in the camera's eye so I'm okay with following that through." Apparently Michelle had no trouble formulating sentences when drunk, at least, however flawed her reasoning might have been coming to have a work discussion last thing at night. "But..." She made a face. "This was about bringing the show back to your strengths, showcasing what makes you brilliant. I don't know if this is true to that direction. Or necessary to it, anyway. And..." Her brow furrowed a little. "I don't want to irritate you. And I feel like I do already."

"I thought the whole point of the heckling was to irritate me," Tabitha pointed out. "Or have I missed something?"

"Weeeell it was to fire you up," Michelle said with a wave of her hand. "Get rid of that stupid facade you wear. It's not serious. You... know that, right?"

"Yes, I know that. And what do you mean, stupid facade?"

"Oh, you know. The smiles, that gentle voice you put on, even the way you move - it's like your imitating every female celebrity chef ever." Michelle shook her head. "That's not who you are. It's bullshit that you should have to become that."

Tabitha was silent for a moment, her expression unreadable as she stared at the woman balancing on the arm of the chair in front of her. "I was the one who chose to go on television. Most people would say I should just 'deal with it'," she said eventually, more conversationally than before.

"Oh, come on," Michelle said, frowning and shaking her head. "Why should you? It's not like you need the cash - you could just as easily be running your restaurant, writing books, you're a name now. You don't need to do this shit if you don't want to. You shouldn't have to be someone you aren't, not at this point."

"Tell that to the board. Or the lawyer who drew up my contract. I don't really have a say on who I am, at least not for another year."

"Sure, I know, and there's nothing I can do about that. But listen," Michelle said, sitting forqard a little now, gazing up at the other woman intently, "I -do- have a say, now. And as far as I'm concerned, I won't push for anything on this production that you don't want. But you have to -tell- me. Don't just sit back and martyr yourself for no reason."

"I'm not trying to be a fucking martyr, I'm just trying to do my job. I've told you I prefer the new format, haven't I? Do I really strike you as the kind of person to suffer in silence?"

"Actually, yeh, you do, when it comes to stuff that actually matters," Michelle said boldly. "You strike me as the kind of person who'd fire someone over an oversized turkey, all the time pretending that you've come to hate doing the very thing you're supposed to enjoy the most, because it's been so watered-down, so generic that it no longer carries a single scrap of what makes you so wonderful." The slighter woman was scowling now, her eyes sliding from Tabitha's. That's what I think. And I'm right."

"Oh, are you?" Tabitha asked, stalking towards the half-open verendah door, which was letting in the drunken conversation from next door along with the breeze. She slid it closed and then turned to face Michelle again, hands on hips. "You just seem to know all about me, don't you? I guess I'm supposed to be flattered that you've changed the show to 'help' me - it's not at all because you want to put your little reality-TV spin on things and ride the current fads as far as they'll take you, no."

Michelle gave a start at this, then pushed to her feet, though her eyes were still not quite level with that of the taller woman. "Look, I might have gone for a format I knew, but this was -never- about me. I just..." she trailed off, then, her expression faltering. "Fuck it, whatever. Believe what you like," she said now, looking away, now, making to move past Tabitha, though with the armchair behind her there wasn't much room, meaning that her shoulder brushed against the other woman's upper arm, perhaps more closely than she'd have managed totally sober.

Tabitha didn't move, looking down at Michelle with an expression that for a fleeting moment seemed uncertain and almost vulnerable. Then it hardened and she crossed her arms over her chest, her jaw tightening. "Tell Laura you were right - the extra filming is a bad idea. We're not changing anything else."

"Fine," the other woman snapped, not even looking back as she stalked out, leaving Tabitha alone once more.

 

Though they were technically working - and working hard - it still felt a bit like a holiday. The local scenery was gorgeous: each village was quainter than the last, with small abodes clinging to the steep hills that bordered the sky-blue sea. The weather was hot and muggy, and the crew quickly adopted a 'less is more' policy on extraneous clothing, and those that forgot to apply suncream soon regretted it as the beating sun burnt their pale British skin to a crisp.

Everybody seemed to be making the most of things, and having a marvellous time. Everyone, that is, except Tabitha Harding and Michelle Tait.

Tabitha still performed well on camera - it was hard for her not to when partnered with the inevitably ebullient Italian chefs they encountered. She dutifully joined in in the kitchen, preparing vats of fresh-made pasta and hearty sauces, sinking her hands into balls of dough and even spending a day crafting intricate, delicious-looking pastries with an old woman who had more moles on her face than teeth, it seemed. They were getting plenty of good footage, and Laura seemed well pleased by what she saw when she reviewed it at the end of the day.

When the cameras weren't running, however, Tabitha was nowhere to be found. She disappeared into her villa at every opportunity, and Paul confided that she had started smoking again - a bad sign, he told Michelle anxiously.

Michelle herself was doing her best to keep up the banter when appropriate, which, thankfully, wasn't terribly often in this format, since Tabitha was mostly working with other chefs and didn't need any further back and forth beyond that.

 

"Oh, hey, glad I caught you," Laura said one afternoon, peeking her head in Michelle's unofficial 'office' with a grin. "I had an idea for something, wanted to run it past you."

"Um, sure, go ahead," Michelle said, putting aside the laptop she'd been working on.

"I was thinking of adding a few scenes in between the ones we've got - I mean, we're in Italy and yet we haven't actually seen anyone eating all this amazing food on camera. I was thinking of filming you two at dinner and interspersing that with all the cooking. Whaddayathink?"

Michelle hesitated. "Have you run it past Tabitha?"

"Not yet, it literally just came to me."

"Mm." Michelle made a face. "I don't think she'll like it."

"Right, but what do you think? Getting paid to eat... pretty good work if you can get it."

"Um... sure. I mean, absolutely. Just, um. Clear it with Tabitha before making any bookings, yeah? She wasn't up for that breakfast idea."

"Oh, don't worry, you leave her to me. You two'll be eating linguine before you know it."

Michelle's only response to this was a rather weak smile.

 

"So mainly we just want to see you two eating and enjoying the food - Tabitha, if you want to talk a bit about how it's made or anything, go for it, but don't feel like this has to be Italian Food 101. This is mainly space-filler - we might not even keep the audio."

Michelle nodded, unsure she was even going to be able to enjoy the food at this point. The idea of spending that much time with Tabitha right now, with or without the cameras, was making her feel a little sick. Tabitha nodded politely as well, the hair and makeup artist putting a last spritz of spray on her long, straight hair before stepping away from the table.

"I see you get to let your hair down again," the producer said quietly, with a tentative smile, figuring she should at least attempt to break the silence between them.

The other woman arched an eyebrow, unsure whether this sortie was meant mockingly or not. After a moment her lips twitched. "Mmhmm."

Michelle lifted the menu in front of her and began glancing down the various delights on offer. "So what should I be eating in this part of the country?" she asked then, trying to keep her tone breezy. This seemed to be the right question, as without picking up her menu the chef began to list the region's specialities, her tone for once measured and not openly hostile. Michelle fed back with questions here and there, not so much out a desire to provide good dialogue for the cameras as to keep them from ending up eating in silence, and before she knew it they were having a reasonably interesting discussion about slow food - a topic Tabitha had discussed from time to time on her show but never in too much depth. It turned out she was quite a proponent of the movement and sourced as much produce and meat from local sources as she could for her restaurant, "though of course," she said, lifting her wineglass, "being in the centre of London doesn't make it easy."

"You've never thought about moving out? Somewhere with more local produce nearby?"

"Oh, definitely, but I'd need the money first," came the response, accompanied by a smirk. "There was no point to doing it to start with - without a reputation no one's going to trek out to the country for a meal."

"But now?"

Tabitha gave a shrug. "It'd probably work now. Only one way to really know though."

"So is that the plan, then?" Michelle asked with raised eyebrows. "Country restaurant, here you come?"

"Oh, there is no 'plan'. I can't help but think I'd hate the country - I don't really want to live in the middle of nowhere surrounded by cows."

The other woman cracked a smile at this. "A woman after my own heart," she said.

Tabitha's eyebrows went up, but all she said was "So you're a city slicker too?"

"Couldn't imagine life in a place that stopped moving at eleven - or earlier," Michelle said, glancing up with a smile at the waiter who'd arrived with their first course. "Still, I don't have your dilemma - I can live with Tesco's finest sprouts or carrots - don't really think much about where they actually came from."

"Well, you should - you wouldn't drive your car just to get to the corner shop, would you?"

"I don't drive," Michelle said then. "I mean, I can," she added when Tabitha looked mildly shocked, "but I don't actually own a car. I get everywhere in taxis, or usually I just take the tube."

"Right, well, regardless - you wouldn't take unnecessary trips and waste petrol and pollute the air. So why should your veg?"

"Huh." Michelle seemed to process this, then said, "I guess there's only one thing for it," she said.

"Oh?"

"I'm gonna have to just give up veg. And fresh meat. Chips and chicken nuggets for me every meal from now on." Michelle smirked.

Tabitha opened her mouth to retort and then apparently thought better of it, merely giving a snort and rolling her eyes. "Good luck with that."

Michelle's smirk turned into a teasing grin, now. "Maybe I'll start my own cookery show: 'Michelle's Minimal Meals' - maximum calories, minimum actual food content with celebrated sidekick Michelle Tait."

"I have no doubt you'd do very well for yourself," the other woman said. "People have no taste." It was meant as an insult, surely, but the tone was light and joking.

 

The two women fell silent then, as they turned their attention to their food, which was, of course, excellent. Tabitha ate just the way Michelle imagined a chef would - slowly, with great consideration and care. Occasionally she would stop and chew with her eyes closed, as if trying to isolate what she was tasting above all else. On more than one occasion Michelle caught herself having zoned out, eyes on Tabitha, her own fork poised, forgotten, above her plate.

It wasn't that the other woman was attractive - though she was, especially in the soft candlelight of the table. No, it was more the fact that she was more relaxed, more at ease than Michelle had seen her save for when she was cooking.

Guess the same must be true of eating. Michelle found herself smiling at this thought, glad that this complicated, brilliant woman had another activity beyond simply cooking that gave her pleasure and peace of mind. Christ knows she needs it.

Eventually it came time for dessert; again without looking at the menu Tabitha ordered, not just for herself but also for Michelle.

"Oh, I see how it is," Michelle said with a smirk. "What if I had a nut allergy, hm?"

"Then I guess I'd get two desserts."

"How many pistachios d'you reckon you could eat in one sitting?"

"...excuse me?"

The other woman raised her eyebrows innocently. "I'm just saying, that's a lot of dessert. Pistachios are filling. You sure you could handle 'em all?"

Tabitha snorted again - Michelle was beginning to realize it was as close to a laugh as she seemed to get. "Oh, I'm sure."

"Well, as it happens you won't get the chance. Luck would have it that I'm very fond of pistachio."

"Isn't that convenient."

"Mm, it's like you just know me so well already - and this is only our first date," Michelle joked, hoping that the internal wince she felt immediately after saying that hadn't shown on her face.

"Mm, well, I've noticed you ordered some at the gelato place we visted the other day," Tabitha said with a shrug. "So I thought it was a safe bet."

"You didn't have to pander to me," Michelle said, sounded surprised - and a little touched?

"Making sure people will like what you give them to eat isn't pandering - it's being a good chef. I wouldn't dream of making you eat something you didn't enjoy."

Michelle wasn't sure what to say to this, but fortunately, she didn't have to formulate anything, as their desserts arrived then. They were, as with the rest of the meal, exquisite. Tabitha ate slowly, invalidating her claim that she could've eaten both desserts on her own, and even Michelle, who had an appetite far exceeding the expectations one might have upon surveying her slight frame, found herself struggling slightly, though the sorbet Tabitha had chosen was excellent, and very refreshing.

"Well, I think that's us," the cameraman announced, breaking the silence and startling both women out of their thoughts. "We'll just pack up - don't mind us though, you take your time."

Michelle glanced up quickly, mildly dazed for a moment before she took in their words. "Hm? Oh, fair enough, yes, carry on. I'll see you back at the villa, yeah?"

"Yup, we'll be there."

Tabitha was quiet until the crew had packed up and left, pushing her dessert around her plate with her fork. Eventually she sighed, sitting back and putting her fork down. "You don't have to stay."

"What, and leave the end of the wine? Clearly you don't know me that well then," Michelle teased. "Oh, unless you'd rather I went back..."

"No, it's fine, I just... didn't think you'd want to stay now that the cameras are gone."

Michelle's expression softened a little at this into something unreadable. "You always talk like you think I hate you," she said quiet, reaching for the bottle to top them both up, even though Tabitha had yet to finish her dessert.

"I'm far from your favorite person," Tabitha muttered, picking up her fork again and stabbing it at her dessert. "Laura told me you didn't want to do this."

"Okay, I just warned her that you would refuse." Michelle hesitated. "Which I thought you would. Why didn't you? Sure they could just as easily paid one of the chefs you worked with to come to dinner with you instead?"

"That wouldn't have been as good for ratings," Tabitha replied, but Michelle could tell it was an evasion. Still, she could see that no good was going to come of questioning further, so she just took a sip of her wine, surveying the other woman over her glass.

Tabitha scooped up a forkful of dessert but didn't eat it, frowning at the dab of cream and pastry as if it had done something to offend her. Eventually, Michelle could stand it no longer. "Something on your mind?" she asked.

"I just don't understand you," the other woman said, turning her gaze on Michelle. "I mean, the acting I get. You're very good. But I don't know why. What else do you want?"

Michelle's brow furrowed briefly. "'Acting'?"

"The... camaraderie. The concern."

"When have I ever shown concern in front of a camera?"

"That's not the point. Just tell me what you want. I'm not saying you won't get it, I just don't want to be messed about anymore." Tabitha's knuckles were white as she gripped the fork now, her expression pained.

Michelle placed her glass down, now, carefully, sitting back in her chair. She looked... Tabitha wasn't the best judge of facial expressions, but at that moment she looked for all the world like she might be about to cry. "You think I'm trying to fuck with your head."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Well, why are you?"

"Jesus, I'm not!"

Tabitha stared across the table, obviously unbelieving. Then, abruptly she dropped her fork with a clatter, pushing her chair back and standing up. "I've had enough of this. I'm leaving."

"Wait, hang on, I-"

 

Michelle had jumped up to follow, but was almost immediately stalled by one of the waiters - they'd prearranged payment for their evening meal, but there was still a document to sign, and when Michelle finally emerged onto the street, Tabitha was barely visible, moving in her usual quick stride back in the direction of the villas.

Throwing her better judgment out of the window, Michelle broke into a run.

Tabitha heard her coming, but waited until she was only a few steps away before whirling around to confront her. "Jesus! You just can't leave well enough alone, can you?"

"What d'you expect, I'd just let you walk away after that?" Michelle snapped, breathless, squaring up to the taller woman. "Is that really what you think of me? You think I'm messing with you? Pretending to care about you, that's what you think?"

"That's exactly what I think, and no points to you because that's exactly what I just fucking said!" Tabitha shouted back.

Michelle's face twisted into an expression that seemed to be a mixture of anger and hurt, her eyes shining brightly in the moonlight. "What did I ever do to make you think I'd do that? Why would I do that?"

"Because you want something! Don't think I didn't notice you're a producer now - and you're getting as much screentime as I am. Maybe you do want to start your own bloody cooking show, I don't know. It happens all the time, don't think I can't recognize the signs!"

"Fucking hell, Tabitha, if I wanted my own show I'd have my own fucking show! Why would I go to the trouble of muscling in on your territory?" Michelle sounded incredulous, her voice trembling, a little higher pitched than usual.

"Jesus Christ, I don't know! Because sometimes people like fucking other people over!" Tabitha wrapped her arms around herself, glaring at the other woman. "Because sometimes people can't be happy unless they take everything that someone else has got!"

Michelle seemed to be stunned into silence by this for a moment, unable to do anything other than slowly shake her head. Eventually, she managed to get words out, although they weren't quite what Tabitha had expected. "I'm so sorry," she murmured.

"Fuck you. If you think I want your pity you can get on the first plane home."

The tears that had been threatening to spill out of Michelle's eyes did, now, although far from breaking down it seemed to make her angrier, and she stepped closer. "Yeah, well, maybe I will. Clearly I've been going about this the wrong way. I made the stupid fucking mistake of thinking that underneath all that bluster and bitchiness maybe you actually wanted someone to reach out to you, but it looks like all you actually want is a human punching bag and I'm sorry, I don't have time for that shit - I just feel so stupid for wasting my time and energy on someone who's clearly beyond help!"

"Then just leave me the hell alone." The words were weakly spoken, as if all of Tabitha's anger and energy had finally drained out of her, and indeed it looked as if she barely had the will to stand and was only holding herself up by her tightly-clenched arms. "You'll be happier that way." With that she turned and began to make her way towards the villa, shoulders held rigidly as if fighting back tears of her own.

 

"Yep?"

"Stu? Is this... can we talk? Are you busy? I know it's late..."

"Hey, Mish, of course, I was just... anyway, what's up? You sound a bit rough."

"I feel pretty rough." It was starting to get cold out, but Michelle still hadn't returned to the villa, her thoughts too busy, to big to fit into a house with a bunch of other people. Instead she found herself tramping up and down the country road on which the houses sat, staying moving to stave off the cold and the insects. At first, all she could do was cry - from frustration, from hurt, from anger - she wasn't even sure except that there seemed to be an awful lot of tears and they hadn't wanted to stop. Now that they had, all she wanted was to hear a friendly voice.

"What happened? Is filming going okay? You're not hurt, are you?" Staurt's concern was evident even over the phone line.

"No, no, I'm okay. I'm not hurt. I just..." Damnit, her voice was wobbling again, why did the line have to be so clear all of a sudden, the signal had been terrible all week. "I just wanted to talk to someone," she got out eventually.

"Well, I'm here. All night, if you need me. How about you tell me about your week?"

"The... oh, it was fine, fine... Everything went... fine," Michelle said lamely, closing her eyes for a moment even as she walked, trying to breathe deeply.

"Yeah, they're great."

"Cool. So what's up? What happened tonight?"

Michelle sucked in a ragged breath at this, concentrating on holding it together well enough to speak. "Oh, there was a dinner thing with Tabitha," she said, her voice unnaturally high.

"Ah. Why did I think it might be something to do with her?"

"Because I don't know how to stop doing things that are bad for me?"

"What'd you do this time, then?"

"Same thing as always. Tried to... I dunno. Be nice. It went as well as it usually does." Michelle paused, swallowed, hard. "Maybe a little worse. Stu, I think I'm going to have to come home, I don't think I can face her tomorrow..."

"Come home? What'd she do, Mish, try to fire you again?"

"No. Maybe..." Another ragged sigh escape her throat. "I don't know. I don't know what I'm doing here, Stu. I've been trying to make this something she'll enjoy, something she'll actually be proud of, and..." - that wobble crept into her voice again as she went on - "she thinks I'm fucking with her. Playing some weird mind game or something. She hates me, and she won't listen to anything I say. I just... I don't know what to do with that."

"Uh, wow. She sounds messed up. You're doing a really good job, there's no way someone who wasn't a complete nutcase wouldn't realize that - and appreciate it."

"She just won't believe that anything I've ever done or said was sincere. She thinks I'm out to mess with her - maybe out to get her. I can't do this, I can't get up tomorrow and look at her knowing that she thinks that of me. I mean, it must be killing her, feeling like there's someone on her team who's got it in for her, who's trying to fuck with her head."

"Uh... pardon my French but fuck that - look what it's doing to you, Mish. That's not a healthy working environment. You should get out as soon as you can."

Another deep breath. "You think I should leave?"

"Hell yes. It's not like you don't have better things to do - you've got a whole film waiting for you back here."

At this, Michelle cracked a slight smile. "You heard about that, huh?"

"Uh huh, and I hear it's gonna be amazing. Just needs the right producer's touch."

Michelle exhaled slowly, nodding, though obviously her brother couldn't see it. "All right," she said. "Okay. I'll leave in the morning."

"Great. We'll be waiting for you."

 

It was ironic, wasn't it, how the times you most wanted to shut off your brain and slide into oblivion sleep wouldn't come. Ironic, or maybe just cruel. Tabitha did not cry, and she had no one to call - Paul was asleep, snoring in the next room but she did not wake him, not even when night became the early hours of morning and she still hadn't slept. No matter how many times she shut her eyes she still saw Michelle's tearful face in front of her and felt that wrench in her gut, and she knew she couldn't go on the next day. Laura was going to have to make do with what she had, because production was over.

 

As it turned out, she needn't have worried. When she emerged in the morning after a fitful few hours' dose, she found that Paul, already awake, naturally, was hovering around the kitchen area, looking nervous and restless. "Laura said we can call it a wrap," he said quickly. "She says we can shoot another day if you like, but it'll just be filler, but that if you like we're done."

"Oh. That's fine, then. Being done, I mean." Tabitha felt somewhat confused - was she dreaming?

"Yeah, she says Michelle Tait's been called home unexpectedly, and it's probably just as easy to call it a day - says she has plenty of footage already."

"Tait's gone?" She felt a flash of triumph that almost instantly faded to a throbbing pain - so what if she had been right and by confronting the producer had driven the viper from the nest? She had hoped almost desperately to be proven wrong.

"Yeah, um... yeah..." Paul frowned briefly, as though slightly confused by something, but then he stepped forward, holding out an envelope. "I think she left this," he said. "It was on the mat this morning when I got up."

Tabitha took the envelope, turning around and sliding her finger under the flap to open it immediately. She didn't even have to take the piece of paper out of the envelope to know that it was the cheque she'd sent weeks before. She'd assumed that Michelle just hadn't got around to having it cashed - after all, it wasn't as though she would be in any desperate need for the money - but it seemed that not only had Michelle had no intention of doing so, but she'd taken the trouble of bringing it with her to Italy to return it.

Before she realized it Tabitha had ripped it in half, dropping it into the wastebin as her cheeks burned. "I'm going to go pack," she muttered, and with that returned to her room to prepare for their imminent return to London.

 

Suze had been given a pretty rotten dilemma. Before Michelle had left - quite a bit before - she had offered her two options. One, she could go on the Italy trip as Michelle's assistant and enjoy a few days of sun and good food and wine. She knew perfectly well that there'd be little for her to do on the trip, as everything was so well prepared, so basically, she was being offered a paid holiday. Two, she could stay behind, and supervise Stuart Tait's film in Michelle's absence. Then, if she did well, she'd be able to stay on the project and get an assistant producer credit for her trouble.

Every single one of her friends had wanted to kill her when she chose option two. But Suze didn't care, because not only was she going to be credited alongside Stuart and Michelle Tait - the golden children who in the eyes of the British film and television watching public could at present do no wrong - not only that, but she could tell that Michelle had really approved of her choice. And Suze, although she'd settled down quite a lot in the past few months, would still do just about anything to gain Michelle's approval.

Today, Suze had a dilemma. She stared at the phone as though it might provide her answer for her, but had been silent - somewhat surprisingly - for the past ten minutes, as though waiting for her to make her decision. Eventually - quickly - she picked the sleek handset out of its cradle, and dialled before she could change her mind.

"Tabitha Harding's phone, who's speaking please?"

"Paul, it's Suze. Are you able to talk?"

"Oh hey, Suze..." There was a long pause, and the sound of footsteps before Stuart spoke again. "Yeah, I can talk for a minute. What's up?"

"This might be a totally weird question. but did something... happen in Italy?"

"Uh. What do you mean?" he asked evasively.

"I mean that Michelle's been totally distracted since she got back, and Stu is tiptoeing around her, and I'm wondering why."

"Oh. Well, they did have this sort of shouting match outside right before the end of shooting..."

"Okay, that sounds like a candidate. What sort of shouting match?"

"I think Tabitha accused her of trying to manipulate her into giving her something. I'm not sure what."

"Tabitha accused Michelle of being manipulative?" A note of irritation crept into Suze's voice, as though she might be tempted to hold Paul responsible for any hurt caused by his boss to her own boss.

"She accuses everyone of being manipulative," the young man replied with a sigh. "She still gives me suspicious looks when I bring her coffee sometimes."

"So she's paranoid?"

"Pretty much."

"Huh." Suze thought for a long moment. "If she's like that with everyone I can't see why Michelle would be that bothered," she said eventually.

"I dunno. I mean, they do have a kind of a... thing, when they're not shouting at each other."

"Jesus, what sort of thing?" Suze asked then, her mind suddenly whirring.

"No, nothing like that," Stuart replied, obviously having realized the implication of his words. "I just meant... when they're bantering on-camera and stuff, you know? That's about as friendly as Tabitha gets with anybody."

"Really? Doesn't she have any friends?"

"...not really. She's pretty busy most of the time."

"Huh." Suze frowned. "Well. I think your boss upset my boss," she said then, in a slightly playful tone.

"Yeah," Stuart sighed. "She does that. Sorry."

"Mm. Well, thanks for the update, anyhow."

"Sure. I hope everything gets better for you - and Michelle. She must be a nice boss to have."

"She is. I... can't imagine what being Tabitha's PA must be like."

"It's not that bad. Except for that whole firing Michelle thing she's actually pretty reasonable. If you catch her at the right time."

"So she's fine except when she's not?"

"Pretty much."

"Right. Well. See ya."

"Um, bye."

 

Both Tabitha and Michelle found little time to dwell on their respective reasons for moping as the year continued on; October brought a busy filming schedule for Michelle and a jam-packed book tour for Tabitha. The film - tentatively titled Cerulean Blues - was well underway, with an exciting cast, including Michelle's mother, which meant that she regularly spent days in the company of most of her family. She found that the break from Tabitha - and Tabitha - could not have come at a better time, and eventually got to the point where she rarely found herself replaying that conversation in her head.

As November approached, Tabitha's book tour ended, and she was technically 'on holiday' - which in this case meant that she took on extra shifts at the restaurant, signing up to the emergency roster and standing in for absentees for the most part, filling any role that was required of her. She was no longer duty manager on a Sunday, having been keen to see Fiona reprise the role, and so she found herself taking on everything from pastries to soups, from meat to veg, and she even on one occasion rolled up her sleeves and washed the dishes for a night, hand cleaning the delicate porcelean, crystal and silverwear that couldn't go in the restaurant's big industrial dishwasher.

She was... not happy, but content, at least when she was at the restaurant. She still had the occasional interview or press call to attend, but for the most part she was able to duck the public eye and this as much as anything else helped her regain some semblance of calm, though she knew that splitting her time between the restaurant and the gym and doing little else wasn't exactly healthy. Still, she found as December approached and the time came for the new series of Tabitha to air she began to grow more agitated, chain-smoking out behind the restaurant and spending hours on the treadmill.

Very little in the way of preparation was required on Tabitha's own part - she had guest spots in a couple of breakfast shows, and one evening slot on [Jonathan Ross]'s show that had been secured for her to help 'hook in' the new market they were aiming to attract with the revamped format. This was the appointment that worried her most, because on that occasion she was to be accompanied by Michelle Tait.

She had not had any contact with the other woman since that fateful day in Italy - she was reasonably sure their assistants corresponded, but had not been privy to the details. She was more and more convinced as time went on that she had made a mistake - perhaps Michelle really was that selfless. She certainly hadn't taken the cheque, which would've been the easiest thing in the world to cash and say nothing of, and try as she might Tabitha couldn't find anything in the conversation she kept running over in her head to give her fears the fuel they needed to grow. Far from making her feel better, this only made her feel worse. She knew how she came across to other people, mainly because she had cultivated the 'hot-tempered bitch' persona for longer than she could remember. The fact that Michelle had bought it after so much effort, declaring her not worth the time and effort it took to know - well, it wasn't exactly an ego boost.

Still, if previous performances were anything to go by, Michelle would at least be professional and congenial in front of the camera, so there was really no need to be nervous about the guest spot.

 

"Paul! Jesus Christ, where the hell is he?"

"I'm here, here I am!" Paul approached at a near-run, looking somewhat panic-striken at Tabitha's urgent tone.

"Do you have my cigarettes?" the woman wanted to know.

"They're in your bag in the green room." Paul hesitated. "Would you like me to fetch them?"

"No, it's fine, I'll get them," Tabitha replied distractedly, watching as the chat show crew bustled about, preparing for that night's filming. "I've got time for a quick one, don't I?"

The young man checked his watch. "If you hurry?" he offered.

"All right, sure. I'll be out back." With that Tabitha departed, her long-legged stride taking her quickly towards the green room, which she had vacated some time ago in favour of the distracting noise and movement of the set.

Although the night's band were out tuning their instruments and squeezing in extra sound-check time when they could, the other guests for the night - some kids from some Channel 4 sci-fi dramedy and a popular activist-comic publicising his new book - were still installed, the former chattering away amongst themselves, and the latter sitting in the corner of the long sofa that ran along two sides of the cosy room, deep in conversation with a dark-haired woman in an elegant wine-red dress that hugged every inch of her petite curves.

That Tabitha didn't immediately recognise Michelle she could only put down to some sort of panic-induced aphasia - the other woman had looked up and shot her a tight smile and nod before Tabitha realised who she was looking at.

As the chatter in the room died down Tabitha realized she had frozen in the middle of the room on the way to her bag and that the kids at least were looking up at her with a mixture of curiosity and mockery. Fighting past the instinct to turn and run away she finished crossing the room, digging the half-empty pack of cigarettes out of her bag, the cellophane crinkling loudly. "Anyone want to join me?" she asked the room, hoping she sounded much calmer than she felt.

Perhaps none of them were smokers, or perhaps they were happy in their current conversations, or perhaps they just didn't like the look of Tabitha but in any event, smiled and 'thankyous' and shakes of heads were all she got, and she exited the room feeling thoroughly unwanted.

 

"So, is she really as bad as they say?" Michelle's companion wanted to know as soon as the chef had left the room. "Or is it all an act for the camera?"

"Hah, um..." Michelle frowned. "That's a complicated question."

"Oh? How so?"

"She's... a force to be reckoned with. But not in quite the way you'd expect." Michelle shook her head. "I don't know her that well, really."

"Well, who knows anybody, really?" the comic asked with a cheeky grin. "At least, as well as we'd like."

The best Michelle could manage to this was a noise of agreement, and a smile, her eyes straying to the door through which Tabitha had just departed.

 

The interview went fine - at least, as far as Tabitha could tell. She perched, smelling of smoke and nerves, on the edge of the couch, occasionally interjecting cutting comments but mostly watching as Michelle charmed everyone, audience and host alike. She managed to make the change in format sound both interesting and mysterious, and Tabitha knew that the first episode at least would draw a lot of viewers.

As they left the set, Michelle seemed as eager to escape the building as Tabitha, gathering together her things and exiting through the stage door (where there was a gaggle of fans waiting to see the band, or maybe the kids from the Channel 4 show, but certainly not them) only moments after the chef had lit her cigarette. As she caught sight of Tabitha in her peripheral vision, though, she seemed to start, hesitating, obviously torn. Eventually, she turned. And cleared her throat. "We should probably talk," she said quietly in the tone of a person who is gritting their teeth and doing what needs to be done, however distasteful.

Tabitha's stomach dropped, though she bobbed her head, lips still wrapped around the cigarette. She took a deep drag, holding it for a moment before expelling it in a rush. "Yeah."

"Any preferences where we go? I'm happy as long as it isn't the Stag - too hot and loud."

"I know a place."

 

The 'place' that Tabitha knew at first glance seemed little more than a few tables set up on the patio outside of an unassuming terraced house, the kitchen accessible directly through a window with a loud and colorful awning atretched above it. Tabitha slumped onto one of the benches, cigarette still in hand, and waited for Michelle to join her, staring at the grain of the table all the while. Michelle made a beeline for the bar, first, coming back with a bottle of red wine and a pair of glasses.

"Shit, sorry, I didn't even check if you were driving," she said on her return, rolling her eyes - though clearly at herself rather than at Tabitha.

"I can call a car. It's fine."

Acknowledging this with a slight nod, Michelle poured them each a glass before sitting down opposite Tabitha.

"I'm sorry I left Italy like that," she opened immediately. "It was childish of me. There's no excuse for that."

"I'm not surprised you did." Were they really talking about this? It felt like a dream. "I wanted you to."

Michelle's face didn't move at this, and Tabitha got the feeling that this was because she had steeled herself not to react the moment she'd spoken.

"Well. All right. So we should talk about what's going to happen next," she said.

"No, wait. I..." Tabitha hesitated, dragging her gaze up to meet the other woman's. "I should apologize. For the things I said. I was out of line."

Michelle's expression flickered at this, and Tabitha thought she saw a brief flash in the other woman's eyes, a sudden picture back through the weeks to that moment out on the road. But then it was gone, and she was shaking her head slightly. "Don't," she said. "I don't need to hear it, it's all right. I'm all right," she said carefully, and the chef realised two things as she heard that determined, deliberate tone: that Michelle was all right, but that this was a recent development. Michelle had most certainly been not-all-right.

"Well, still," Tabitha mumbled, her eyes sliding away, feeling all the more wretched and foolish now. She savagely shook her cigarette, dislodging the ash and watching it fall to the ground. "I'm sorry."

Michelle managed a nod at this, but sucked in a breath - and then a long draught of wine - and continued almost immediately. "So we've kept to the publicity schedule and spin we'd agreed for this series," she said now. "I'm not going to ask Laura to recut - there's really no time, and even if there was I wouldn't make her do that. But we can spin it as a one-time thing, and by Autumn next year they'll probably have forgotten about the whole double-act thing and be ready for whatever you want - old format, moving forward, whatever."

"What?"

Michelle glanced back up again, blinking at this response. "Sorry, I'm talking about dissolving my contract. I signed up for the next series, so we'll need something to tell the execs to get them to let me out gracefully."

"You're leaving?" Tabitha couldn't understand why she was having such trouble grasping this idea, but there it was, staring her in the face. She lifted her head, looked back at Michelle. "You really can't stand me, can you?"

The other woman was looking more perplexed by the moment - she obviously hadn't expected any opposition to her statement, even a weak one such as this. Her lips parted, and she took another sip of her wine, largely to gather her thoughts, it seemed, before speaking - slowly, obviously having chosen her words carefully. "I find it hard to be around you," she said.

"Because of the way I've treated you." This didn't need to be a question. It wasn't. "Jesus..." Tabitha turned away slightly, closing her eyes for a long moment.

"It's my problem, not yours," Michelle said flatly, "I'm very bad at knowing when to let things go, sometimes."

"The only stupid thing you've done is blame yourself for this," Tabitha said, more harshly than she meant to. "Don't."

The other woman frowned, looked up. "I don't," she said. "At least. I don't blame myself for your actions. I just should've let it go sooner, that's all. Look," she went on quickly, "I don't need to talk about this. I just wanted to make it clear that I'm not going to make this hard for you."

"Well, you are." What was she saying? Why was her voice so high and brittle? "You were the best thing to happen to the show in its entire run, and now you're just leaving?"

Michelle's looked utterly taken-aback, now, shaking her head as though she didn't quite believe what she was hearing. "I... thought it's what you'd want. Why would you want me around? Look, it doesn't matter, I know what you think of me and I'm not going to fight it any more, I'm done with that, and if you think I'm going to stand around on set answering back from the sidelines with you hating me, thinking I want to mess with your head, steal your job..." Michelle waved a hand vaguely at this - "...whatever it is you think - well maybe those are conditions you can work in, but I can't handle that, and I won't. I do this job because I love it," she said, leaning across the table a little, in full flow, now. "I love what I do. And I will not be drawn into some shitty contest of wills for the sake of a high rating show." She sat back again, looking thoroughly drained. "Life is too fucking short."

Tabitha listened to this in silence, her wineglass sitting untouched still before her. When Michelle finished she raised her cigarette to her lips with one shaking hand, though she didn't draw on it. "I don't hate you," she said quietly then. "I know it must seem like I do but I don't. And I don't like fighting with you, either."

This didn't seem to pacify Michelle much. "So we don't have to fight," she said. "I'm trying to help us end this amicably."

"But that's what I'm saying," Tabitha said, frustrated now. "I don't want to end this. I don't want you to leave."

Michelle tipped her head away a little at this, closing her eyes, as though she'd just opened a hot oven or the curtains on a sunny day. Her brows drew together and she looked for a moment as though she was in almost physical pain. "Please," she said quietly. "Don't. I'm not doing this."

"Look, Michelle, I was stupid and rash and I made a mistake - lots of mistakes. But I'm sorry, and I can do better, if you'd just give me a chance..."

"Jesus..." The utterance seemed to be internal more than it was meant for Tabitha's ears, Michelle's eyes squeezing shut a little tighter before she reopened them to meet the other woman's eyes. "You hurt me," she said, then. "Really badly. If you could just- I can't even get into how it felt," she went on quickly, her voice low, tone intense, speaking a breathy mutter as though she needed to get the words out all at once or not at all. "I know I try to help where it's not wanted sometimes and I know I can be to forceful when I think I know best, I know that, but no one has ever spoken to me that way, accused me of what you did, and when I tried to explain, to tell you you were wrong, you threw it back in my face, just like you did that day in the studio, just like you have every single time I've tried to make any kind of connection with you. So give me one good reason why I shouldn't be walking away from this, because honestly, I'm thinking you had enough chances already."

"I don't know, I just thought..." it was here that Tabitha's self-preservation instincts kicked in and she shook her head suddenly, frowning. "No, you're right, I was an idiot, I don't deserve..." She stood abruptly to leave; the movement jarred the glass of wine on the table and it fell, almost in slow motion, ringing against the table and releasing a quickly-growing puddle of wine that crept towards the edge where Michelle sat in her beautiful dress.

The other woman jumped up quickly, but the combination of the nature of the spill and her seat being a bench meant that really had no chance to get out of the way and indeed her standing merely put her into the path of the spilled wine sooner - her thigh touched to the edge of the table and it was as though the liquid leapt onto her and was absorbed, immediately creating a dark, spreading mark on the material which, while technically 'wine red', certainly didn't match. She watched it almost in a daze, as though she wasn't quite sure it was happening.

"Shit, shit, I'm sorry!" Tabitha yelped, throwing a napkin on the remaining puddle. After a moment's hesitation she moved around the table, grabbing Michelle's hand and pulling her towards the building. "C'mon, we need to get that before it sets..."

Apparently too bemused to protest if she was otherwise inclined to, Michelle allowed the other woman to lead her through the small cluster if tables and over to the closed front door of the establishment - it didn't look as though patrons generally entered the building, but Tabitha, it seemed, was either an exception, or didn't care.

Pushing her way in, Tabitha led Michelle straight through to the kitchen, which wasn't too busy at this time of night. One of the cooks - was this a nice enough restaurant to have chefs? - glanced up in alarm as they entered, though his expression immediately melted into one of pleased recognition. "Chef Harding! We didn't know you were here - I'm glad you stopped in! Did you want to taste the n--"

"Sorry, Charlie, not right now - we've had a red wine emergency. I need some salt and some extra whites, if you have them."

"Of course, of course - just head on through into the house and I'll be moments only," he said with a broad, white smile. His accent was a pleasant mix of French, English and something else and Michelle hazarded a guess from this and his dark complexion that he might be North African.

"Thanks." Tabitha led Michelle through the kitchen and through a door that took them into a cluttered and well lived-in-looking house, turning left into a sitting room and releasing Michelle's hand as if she had only just realized she was still grasping it. "Charlie will be through in a minute with a change of clothes," she muttered, looking anywhere but at the other woman.

Michelle nodded mutely, standing where she'd come to a halt. After a long moment, she seemed to come round slightly, and after some hesitation she reached for the zipper at her side, one hand holding it still at the top while she began to unzip her dress with the other. Tabitha noticed the motion and turned away even further, clearing her throat awkwardly.

"I'm really very sorry about this - it was an accident. I wouldn't... I'd never do something like that on purpose."

"Forget it, it's fine," Michelle said, and Tabitha caught her out of the corner of her eye easing carefully out of the dress, though she didn't let it crumple to the floor lest the wine spread, instead holding it carefully in front of her as Charlie appeared at the door with a neatly folded set of clothing, and a large tub of table salt.

Hurriedly Tabitha took the clothes, thanking the young man again and assuring him she'd be out to chat with him later. "Here," she told Michelle, offering the clothes - which would be oversized, but at least clean - and taking the dress in return.

Michelle put on the shirt first, buttoning it up quickly. It hung down to her thighs, which was just as well, as the checked trousers were clearly too large to stay up, even with their elasticated waistband, and having held them in front of her to check she just silently folded them up again, placing then on the arm of the chair and taking a seat.

Tabitha hesitated for a moment, the fabric of the dress still warm from the other woman's body. "I'll... just take this to the toilet - I'll be right back."

Michelle glanced up, and then back to her hands, resting on her lap in front of her. "All right."

The chef nodded, then turned and hurried away to the bathroom, dress and salt in hand. She had plenty of experience dealing with red wine stains, and it wasn't the mess that worried her. She hates me. She can't stand to be around me. I just want her to like me. So what do I do? Potentially ruin her clothes. Great fucking job there, Harding. No wonder you don't have any friends...

The clothes were not, it turned out, ruined. A few minutes work confirmed this, and soon Tabitha was hanging the dress gently over the shower curtain rail, and heading back through to the little sitting room. Michelle was sitting on the couch where Tabitha had left her, sipping on a glass of wine - it seemed that in her absence Charlie had brought through their bottle, still more than half full, her own glass refilled and waiting for her on the battered coffee table.

"It's, uh, going to be fine," Tabitha told her, hovering by the table. "I'll pay for the dry cleaning, of course."

"Don't worry about it."

"It's just drying now. It should be done soon."

"All right." Michelle stared into her glass, then took a long sip. "Thanks."

At a loss for anything else to say, Tabitha sank into the chair, reaching for her glass and taking a deep draught. Sitting here in silence wasn't a very appealing option, but she couldn't very well leave Michelle alone in a stranger's house in nothing more than her pants and shirt.

Eventually, Michelle sighed, and sat forward a bit, staring straight ahead as she spoke. "Why were you mean to me? That day when I was hungover? After the emails, and the food, I'd thought... and then you took that dig. I don't understand why you did that."

Tabitha blinked; she hadn't expected to be asked the question and now that she had been she didn't know what to say. "I... don't know," she gaped. "I guess... I felt you were being too nice, getting too close. And I wanted to stop that."

Michelle looked over, her expression... sad? Conflicted? Maybe still a little angry as well... "It didn't ever occur to you that I might just be nice?"

"It's hard to listen to the little voice saying that when there's a much louder voice telling you to run away and save yourself," Tabitha murmured, eyes lowered to the ground now. "I'm... used to listening to the louder voice."

"Why?"

Tabitha felt her throat grow tight. "Because there was a time when that was the right thing to do."

"So, what, you go through life assuming everyone either doesn't care or is out to get you? That's no way to live."

"I guess I try not to think about it."

"How's that working for you?"

The chef looked up and smiled, looking as though she was moments away from tears. "I'm sure you can guess."

There was no mistaking the sympathy in Michelle's expression, now, though she said nothing, only holding Tabitha's gaze for a long moment before looking back to her wine.

Somehow the sympathy was worse than scorn, and Tabitha had to wait several moments to compose herself before she could speak again. "It's not an excuse, though. For the way I treated you. You were sweet, and I was a bitch. I understand why you want out of the show. And that's fine. I'll talk to the board next week."

"All right." Then Michelle hesitated, brow furrowing a little. "Look, um. Give it 'til after New Year, maybe? We've already got everything set up for that and it's riding on the two of us. Let's just... do that. And then we'll see."

"Sure. Right. Whatever you want to do," Tabitha told her, swallowing.

"What I want is..." Michelle shook her head. "Never mind."

"No, go on," Tabitha said after a nervous pause. "You've always had good ideas, you should share them."

Michelle looked up at her again. "What I want," she said softly, almost wearily, "is for you to take me at my word, and for me to feel like I can take you at yours. I want you to trust me. And I'm worried that that's something that you just can't do."

There was a long silence, in which Tabitha clutched nervously at her wineglass and desperately wished for a cigarette. Eventually she gave a shuddering sigh and sat up stiffly. "I don't think anything I could say could convince you I wanted that too. But... I do. And I would try, if you would give me the chance."

There was another long silence, then. Eventually, Michelle sighed, and reached to put her wine down on the coffee table. "Let's... do New Year. And see how we get on?"

"Sure. New Year. Great."

"I don't know what else I can say, Tabitha," Michelle said now, the other woman's first name sounding strange from her right now.

"No, no, that's... fine. I'm going to get your dress." Tabitha stood abruptly; luckily there was no spill this time.

 

The dress was still damp, of course, but Michelle put it back on anyway, apparently as keen to get out of there as Tabitha was. As they passed through the kitchen on their way out Tabitha was caught by Charlie, leaving Michelle to exit into the cool night air on her own. She considered waiting, but quickly decided that this would only present the opportunity for more awkwardness, and instead hailed the first cab she saw.

 

"So wait, go over this again. She actually cried? And apologized?"

"Nearly cried."

"But she apologized. And meant it."

"I... think so, yeah." Michelle collapsed onto her sofa, pressing the loudspeaker button on her phone and placing it in front of her on the coffee table before taking a bottle opener to her beer.

"Wow. So you didn't quit."

"I was never going to quit before New Year anyway. I wouldn't do that to Laura. Nothing's changed, yet."

"Yeah, well. Just so you keep what's best for you in mind."

"Oh, I am done going out on a limb for her, I promise you that."

"As well you should be."

"Mm. Still. I mean... God, Stu, she's just so damaged. I mean, I don't even know what to do with that, you know?"

"Stay far, far away?" Stuart hazarded.

"Mm. Right."

"She's not your responsibility, Mish - not as a producer, certainly. You've got to look out for yourself."

"I know, I know that..." Michelle took a thoughtful sip of her beer. "Only... I dunno. If she's extending her trust - or at least she's going to try... It's like when she apologised before, I can't just walk away from that, y'know?"

"Sure you can. She had her chance - several chances - and threw them in your face. You can walk away with your head high." There was a pause, and a muffled noise from the background, and then Stuart was back on the line. "Katie says I'm being too harsh and you should give her a chance. But she's too nice."

Michelle raised her eyebrows. "Katie's there, eh?"

"Yeah, uh, she came over to go over some stuff," Stuart said vaguely.

"Just the two of you?"

"Well, yeah, I mean, I knew you were busy tonight so..."

"Mhm? Well, I hope you two are having a productive evening..."

"Yeah, you know, we are. Anyway. Does this mean you're definitely not coming to my New Year do?"

"I'm afraid so. I mean, I should make it along later - I shouldn't see the thing with Tabitha running long after midnight, even with take-down."

"All right, well, all the good stuff happens after midnight anyway, so. As long as you're there for that."

"Wouldn't miss it for anything."

 

After a nerves-filled week the first episode of the new format aired. Tabitha couldn't bring herself to watch it, but when Paul delivered the first batch of reviews the next morning she found she couldn't help but reading them over her coffee. They were, as expected, almost entirely positive - critics praised the show for 'ditching its old, tired-and-true format and going for something if not entirely innovative at least interesting and more importantly, fun to watch'. Even more notable was the praise heaped on Tabitha's new 'sidekick', who apparently brought 'the right amount of sweet to offset the sour' - meaning Tabitha herself.

Laura sent out an email to Tabitha and the crew, including Michelle, congratulating them on a job well done, but other than that it was just a case of waiting out the next few weeks to see if their new viewers dropped-off, stuck, or even increased.

By the middle of the month it was apparent that the format was a success - there had been a small but significant increase in the 'desired demographics', and the once-skeptical board was issuing praise from on high. This also meant that the New Year episode was still on the schedule, and that arrangements needed to be made for the filming of the small dinner party that was to be catered by Tabitha and held, surprisingly, at her flat.

She'd heard nothing from Michelle since the night of the talk show. She hadn't expected to, necessarily, but it was a disappointment nonetheless. Still, there was plenty to do to arrange the evening, including preliminary tests to be done with the crew to make sure the flat would work on camera, as well as preparing the menu and the guestlist.

The latter was mostly the business of the production team, of course - and she could assume that Michelle would have a hand in it. The other woman wasn't present for any of the sessions with the camera crew in the week before Christmas, but then, she was probably very busy with her family.

 

"...could you pass the mash, dear? Oh, and the gravy please..."

"Hm?" Michelle glanced up quickly, her focus returning to the room around her. "Oh, right, yes..."

Her mother smiled warmly at her as she passed the dish, scooping out some potatoes for herself and then adding a dab to the pile on her husband's plate beside her. "Is everything all right, Michelle? You've been in a daze all evening."

"Yeah, I'm just... thinking. I'm fine."

"Mm? All right... you know if there's anything you want to talk about..."

"...then I wouldn't be doing it over Christmas dinner?" Michelle finished, shooting her mother a smile. "I'm all right, Mum. Really."

"If you say so. Oh! Here's something to cheer you up - I was talking to Fiona the other day and she said she loved the new show and thought you were wonderful in it. She still thinks you should have gone in front of the camera instead of behind."

Michelle smiled, and shook her head. "I like being in control too much," she said. "Besides," she added, "that's not acting, that's just me being a wind-up."

"Well, that's acting, isn't it?"

"What? No, I mean, not really..."

"So you and Tabitha are friends? That's nice."

"Friends? Oh... Well. We're..." Michelle smiled, unable to keep the note of wryness from her face. "It's complicated."

"Yeah, you could say that," Stuart muttered, glancing up from his plate, and earning himself a warning look. All eyes were now on Michelle, and she sighed, putting her fork down.

"Things have been... a bit up and down with Tabitha Harding. She's a very... complex person. She can be difficult to know."

"Difficult how?" Michelle's father wanted to know, raising his eyebrows.

"She's a bit... I don't know. We don't have very compatible personalities. I'm very open and communicative, and she's... not."

"Oh, well, that's a shame... you'd think, being a chef, she would be..." her mother replied.

"Oh, she's good at communicating about food," Michelle replied, a tiny hint of bitterness creeping in now. "Just not anything else."

"That must make her very difficult to work with."

"Sometimes." Sometimes impossible.

"Well, you've been doing a very good job - all the reviews are very good, and I'm sure the numbers reflect that," her mother said briskly, as if still trying to cheer Michelle up. "And I'm so looking forward to the New Year meal - imagine! Personal catering by Tabitha Harding!"

"Hah, yeh, with me helping - it should definitely be... interesting."

 

"What was that?"

Paul looked up quickly from his laptop screen, on which he'd just hastily minimised a webpage on Tabitha's aproach.

"Nothing," he said, shifting a little nervously where he sat on her couch. "Just... press. Ordinary press. No big deal."

"What sort of press?" she asked suspiciously, narrowing her eyes as she moved to sit on the arm of the couch.

"Um, just... a site."

"A press website? If it's bad press you know I want to see it, Paul - same as the good."

"Nono, it's not bad, it's j-" Paul was cut off when Tabitha shifted to sit down beside him and firmly removed the laptop from his weak grasp, restoring the window to reveal the mysterious site, which turned out to be 'AfterEllen.com: The pop culture site that plays for your team.'

The article in question was, of course, about Tabitha.

Gay Girl’s Goggles: "Tabitha"

When only four percent of scripted TV shows feature LGBT characters, what's a gay girl to do? Why, strap on your gay goggles and watch TV along with us, of course! Our handy appraisal scale is better than any old letter grade. Other sites A+. We say, "What about our lezzy-lady feelings?"

We're making a bit of an exception for this one since we don't usually feature 'reality' television shows, but we just had to draw your attention to the new-look run of Tabitha over on Old Blighty's BBC2 (don't worry girls, it's also on BBC America).

We've all enjoyed a bit of Tabitha 'hard-face' Harding over the years, of course - those killer legs, the hair, the temper - what's not to like? She's like Gordon Ramsey if Gordo was sexy-as-hell and being shot like he was Nigella. But even we have to admit that by-the-numbers cookery shows get boring even with Nigellas and Tabithas at the helm - The Great Big Cook Off and A Tale of Two Kitchens are long gone, and we thought Boring Old Tabitha was here to stay. Oh, how wrong we were!

The team on Tabitha obviously wanted to spice things up, because they hired gong-draped producer and noted superdyke Michelle Tait (the giant sexy brain behind Room For One More) to revamp the show, and boy has she done her job. Not only is the new Tabitha a much funner (funner, it's a word, look it up!) spin on the cookery show format, with Tabitha having to cook with whatever random dishes she uncovers at the beginning of the episode, but Michelle herself appears to have 'got in on the action' - if you know what we mean...

Our eyes in the pies tell us that it all started when she began heckling our Tabby during one of the episodes, and they like it so much that they kept it in. Michelle Tait and Tabitha Harding verbally duelling over delicious food - be still our hearts!

So how 'reality' is this TV? Well, the scuttlebutt is that our new favourite chef&sidekick aren't close in real life, but give it time, girls. We don't now about you, but we'll certainly be tuning in for their New Year's special to see what happens at midnight - the rampant speculation and fantasy begins right here!

"...the fuck?" Tabitha muttered, staring at the screen in utter bemusement. It was technically a good review, yes, but there was so much to it that just boggled the mind. She shot a confused look at her assistant, pushing the laptop back on her knees. "What the hell, Paul? Where did you even find this?"

Paul shrugged, apparently somewhat more relaxed now that his secret had been busted. "Friend of mine emailed it to me. It's, um, a pretty popular site, actually..."

"Michelle Tait is gay?" Tabitha realized she had spoken this out loud a bit too late and colored, frowning to ward off any teasing from Paul - not that she had ever known him to do that.

"Um... I guess?" Paul said doubtfully. "I'd never heard that before, but it doesn't sound like rumour from the article. Does that... matter?" he said now, in a tone that was almost... warning?

"God, no," Tabitha said sharply, shaking her head. "I just... I don't know. Didn't realize." She was aware of how inadequate that sounded but then, she didn't really understand herself why the information was such a surprise to her, or why her cheeks were still burning. "It's fine, of course it's fine, it's just a strange article. Don't people have better things to do than speculate like that?"

"Well, I... really couldn't comment."

"No, I didn't mean... oh, nevermind." Brusquely Tabitha shoved the laptop back at him, standing and reaching up to comb her fingers through her hair. "Are the cleaners due soon? They really ought to be here by now..."

"They're due at half past," the young man said now, pushing to his feet. "I can call and make sure they're running on schedule?"

"Do that. And then call Walter and tell him to get his arse in gear - I need as much prep time as possible on some of those dishes, and the second fridge still isn't working properly."

"Right away, Ms Harding," Paul said, standing quickly and moving off to one of the corners of the room to make his calls.

Tabitha cast a glance at the laptop, still sitting with the bold, colourful website on its screen as if to taunt her. Frowning, she whirled away from it and hurried off to the kitchen to prepare for that night's filming - and Michelle Tait's arrival.

 

The cleaners were on time, although her flat was largely spotless in any case so they didn't have a huge amount to do. The set dressers arrived ahead of the rest of the crew to turn her long, combined living and dining room into a space appropriate for filming, moving the furniture around in the large, high-ceilinged room to create a large space in the middle with little 'sets' in each corner. Tabitha spent most of this time in the kitchen, making sure she'd done the vital bits of preparation to be able to deliver everything on time. They would be filming live, which she'd never done before, not even in her earlier days. Cookery shows did not tend to work well without the opportunity to cut out the waiting and the whipping and the stirring and so on later - although that, of course, was what the four celebrity guests were for - to cut to while she and Michelle were doing the 'boring' parts.

The celebrities themselves were likely to be quite entertaining - Tabitha had worried that it being New Year they'd only find those who weren't interesting enough to be elsewhere, but it seemed that the show's modest surge in ratings had made a New Year show a somewhat attractive prospect for a certain type of 'celeb', and they had a well-respected older actor who, Paul had told her, was a friend of Michelle's father, a novelist known for his sharp satire and sharper tongue, an ageing but still funny comic who was a regular on the BBC panel show circuit (and who they'd been informed would need to run as soon as the bells went), and one of their more populist politicians, a member of the shadow cabinet known for her outspokenness and good humour.

All in all it was an exciting prospect - or it would have been if Tabitha wasn't so nervous. She spent ages in her bedroom trying to pick something to wear even though she knew wardrobe would almost certainly arrive with an outfit already prepared for her. When the activity in the flat became too much to handle she hid on the balcony, chain smoking and watching preparations conitnue inside without her.

It was on one of these occasions that Paul emerged onto the balcony himself, jacket on, bag slung over his shoulder - they were trying to film this episode with a skeleton crew to make things feel as natualistic as possible, and so 'extras' like Paul had been given the night off - much to their delight.

"Um. So the crew's set up and props are gone, and Michelle will be here soon. They want to film her coming in the door so can you see Lynn for a final touch-up?"

"Oh, uh, right..." Tabitha nodded distractedly, grinfing her cigarette out against the stonework and then dropping it into the nearby ashtray. "Thanks. And, uh, Paul?"

"Uh huh?"

"Thanks. For your hard work this year." Tabitha offered a smile that probably would've been quite pleasant if it hadn't looked so stressed. "I appreciate it."

Paul, for his own part, looked a little shocked. It wasn't that Tabitha wasn't an appreciative boss - she wasn't the most forthcoming or employers but she always made a point of thanking him when he went above and beyond and he never felt as though he wasn't valued. But she'd never offered thanks out of the blue like this.

"Um, thanks," he said, grinning broadly. "...Have a good New Year," he said then, blushing a little at his own awkwardness.

"You too. I'll see you on the second." Tabitha followed her assistant inside, submitting to herself further primping from the lone makeup artist while anxiously watching the door.

It didn't buzz - presumably because one of the camera operators was already waiting downstairs to let Michelle in - as the first Tabitha knew of the other woman's arrival was her flat door knocker being rapped.

She had to force herself not to jump up as the cameras swung towards her, instead standing smoothly and making her way to open the door. Michelle, as usual, looked stunning, a nervous-but-friendly smile that actually looked genuine as she greeted Tabitha with, "So I'm here - put me to work!"

Tabitha soon led her new assistant to the spacious kitchen, glancing at her as she waved a hand at the various appliances, naming them off without even looking. It was both a relief and uncomfortable to be in the same room as her - with the cameras rolling she couldn't ask her anything, offer more promises, assure her of her intent.

If Michelle was uncomfortable, she wasn't showing it; instead she was a picture of attentiveness, making gentle jokes about her cooking prowess.

The idea that this was going out live was at once exciting and nervewracking - there would be no retakes tonight.

Tabitha had been ambitious with the menu - she hadn't wanted to 'dumb it down' just because of the live format and inexperienced sous chef, but now she was regretting the decision as she opened the refrigerator to pull out the first of many needed ingredients. "All right, for this first starter I've gone ahead and prepared the ingredients ahead of time, but they still need assembled - I'll show you what to do and then you'll take over from there, sound good?"

"Sounds perfect, just show me what to do," Michelle said with a slightly nervous smile.

 

"Now the thing about starters is you've got to hit the balance between flavour and presentation - the more upscale you're trying to be the more ridiculous things start to look, but if you sacrifice flavour for looking pretty then you've lost the whole point of the appetizer," Tabitha lectured as she picked up a fig, deftly slicing it in half and placing it on a plate. She then selected a small sliver of smoked bacon and laid it on top, then sprinkled a few crumbles of mild, herbed cheese on top. "Appetizers are supposed to whet the appetite - you want interesting flavours that aren't too overwhelming but that get the taste buds 'perked up', as it were, for the meal ahead."

"See, that's why I love them," Michelle commented as she watched Tabitha work, "I think I could happily live on starters..."

"Well, that's the premise behind tapas, isn't it?" The chef picked up a waiting squeeze bottle of thick, dark balsamic vinegar and gave it a few squeezes as she flourished it over the waiting food. "So you're definitely not alone."

"I think you'd miss not being able to prepare the main event, though, wouldn't you?" the other woman said conversationally. "I mean, in a world with only starters..."

"Oh, they're fine. But yeah, this much fiddly-ness without a big payoff would be a disappointment, frankly."

"True of so many things in life," Michelle said with a chuckle.

Tabitha glanced up suddenly, her expression somewhat shocked. Then, realizing that the cameras were catching all of this she forced a laugh and a smile, stepping away from the counter. "Right, you're up."

Somehow managing not to react to Tabitha's expression, Michelle just shot her another of those nervous smiles that dimpled her cheeks, and moved to take the other woman's place, reaching for her first fig.

With this covered, Tabitha then turned on the grill, pulling out further bowls of ingredients and lining them up. Things were going to start happening quite quickly now, and only by sticking to her supremely organized schedule would things work out as they should. That meant ignoring all distractions - not an easy thing to do when the biggest of those was only a few feet away and a camera was hovering to record each second.

Michelle turned out to be rather better than Tabitha had feared - obviously used to moving around a kitchen and preparing food, at least, and she took instruction reasonably well. Even the odd mistake or misunderstanding Tabitha had a feeling might have been slightly put on for the camera. Between them they managed to prepare and assemble several platters' worth of appetizers in good time such that they were just ready, warm and waiting, when the first guests began to arrive. Against her will Tabitha was dragged out of the kitchen and made to answer the door, greeting the guests that she had never met before and inviting them in for the camera.

They were, of course, all very charming and friendly, having been chosen for that very reason. Once they had their desired beverages in hand, Michelle emerged from the kitchen with the first plate of food, bringing it over to where they sat in the little seating area that had been set up with Tabitha's moved furniture for maximum filming flexibility. The two women watched almost anxiously as the guests selected their appetizers; not surprisingly there were exclamations of how delectable everything was, and Michelle glanced over to see a small glow of pride on Tabitha's face.

"It was all my influence, naturally," Michelle said then, smirking and nudging Tabitha gently in the side with her elbow.

"You might've helped a bit," the chef qualified, snorting.

"I'm on the oven, she's on the whip," Michelle confided to their guests.

This drew an appreciative chortle of laughter from the room which the cameramen eagerly captured, happy to see some natural banter emerging already. With that Michelle and Tabitha were whisked back into the kitchen to begin on the main course while the guests were grilled for their responses to some of the year's most notable highs and lows.

Back in the kitchen Tabitha was straight back to business, sweeping aside used utensils and containers and clearing their workspace. She had chosen a combination of sides to go with her main - pan-seared scallops with crispy pancetta and poached asparagus as a starter, followed on by a herb crusted rack of lamb with new potatoes, parsnip purée, savoury cabbage and a rosemary tomato sauce.

"Why don't you take ten," Michelle suggested quietly to the girl who'd followed them through with her camera, "there's going to be some pretty boring washing and chopping just now, no way they're going to want to cut to us while that crowd are being witty over canapes. I'll come get you when we're nearly done?"

The girl hesitated, but then, Michelle -was- the producer. "Okay, sure. Back in ten?"

"See you then," Michelle replied with grin, watching the girl go before closing the kitchen door gently behind her.

"Figured we could use a quick break from the spotlight," she said as she turned back toward Tabitha, smiling a little tentatively.

"Fuck yes," came the response as Tabitha slumped back against the counter, reaching for the nearest open bottle of wine and taking a swig.

Michelle chuckled. "I love it when you swear," she said then. "You know that if you did it on camera tonight there'd be nothing they could do about it?"

This seemed to be something that Tabitha hadn't considered and she arched an eyebrow as she finished her swig. "I'm sure that's not something a responsible producer says," she said then.

"Well, it must be if I just said it, surely," Michelle said, smirking slightly and holding out an expectant hand for the bottle.

Tabitha snorted and passed her the bottle, then pushing herself off the counter and scooping up an armful of dishes into the sink. "I'll keep that in mind." She seemed both more stressed and more relaxed now than she had at the outset of the evening, possibly due to being in her element but under considerable pressure.

 

"Fuck! That'll teach me to try to chop like a pro..."

Tabitha whirled around, her own hands occupied by a baster and brush. "Pros don't slice themselves open," she quipped even as she dropped the utensils and grabbed a clean kitchen towel, moving towards Michelle, who was showing off a rather impressive cut to the camera, though she turned to Tabitha now.

"I just did it for the ratings," she quipped.

"Sex sells better," the chef replied as she engulfed Michelle's hand in the towel. She realized what she had said a moment later and gave a start, though she didn't let up the pressure she was putting on the other woman's wound. Michelle just glanced up at her then and for a split second Tabitha caught an expression on her face that was almost certainly not one she would have wanted the camera (which was fortunately looking over her shoulder at present) to see - a sudden flash of uncertainty and... vulnerability? Confusion? Tabitha had never been the best person at reading facial expressions, and the look was gone again in a moment, replaced by a smirk.

"Well, failing that, we can at least do blood and swearing."

"Well, you're bleeding all over my goddamn kitchen, will that do?" Tabitha said, with more bravado than she felt. "Didn't we request a paramedic on-site for this exact reason? Go clean yourself up, Tait, stick a plaster on that and then get back to work."

"Sir yes Sir," Michelle said, placing her hand over Tabitha's to ease her wounded appendage away without removing the towel. The chef bit her lip, allowing Michelle to step away and then turning herself, reaching for her baster.

"Hurry back."

It was as Michelle was having her cut patched up, off-camera for a bit, that she noticed that she had a text.

So how's it going in the dragon's lair?

Smiling to herself, she typed a quick response, left-handed.

Surprisingly well, actually. Turned up, was nice, she's being nice back.

"There you go, all done," the makeup artist, who doubled as the on-set medic, said, motioning for Michelle to hop up.

Saw the cut - hope you're okay. Don't let dragon lady bite.

Omg, you're watching? How're we doing?

Pretty good. You should set something on fire. That'd be funny.

Michelle smirked.

I'll see what I can do.

She stuck her phone back in the pocket that was hidden in the gathered folds of her dark blue dress, and made her way back to the kitchen.

 

Tabitha didn't look up as she entered, though she acknowledged the other woman with a terse 'hey', bent over an enormous and sizzling mound of meat in a tray. "Check on the asparagus, will you?"

Michelle looked doubtfully into the simmering pot. "Asparaguses are the ones with the little knobbly heads, right? I think this is them here..."

"Fucking hell, Tait, don't make me come over there..."

"If it falls off the fork is it ready? Or is that pasta..."

Tabitha glanced up then, scowling over the lamb at Michelle, her cheeks flushed and rosy. Suddenly Michelle's stomach had flipped over and she couldn't seem to look away. Then she blinked, and looked back at the simmering vegetables.

"Sorry," she said. "Bloodloss," she added with a smirk. "The asparagus looks fine."

"Mm. Then get on those parsnips - they're not going to purée themselves."

"Sir yes Sir."

 

Things were going... well. Surprisingly well, even with Michelle's injury and the burnt pancetta, which necessitated some swearing and a hasty rummage through the refrigerator for another lot. Laura appeared periodically to give them thumbs ups and mouth encouraging words at them, and by the time they sat down to the starter Tabitha was feeling if not amazing, then considerably better than she had expected to at this point in the evening.

Their guests were, once again, delighted, and for a while there was very little talking beyond the occasional sound of joy at some new flavour discovered. Fortunately, Laura was prepared for this, and had cut together some short segments of teasers and outtakes to fill any 'boring' spaces of the evening, which she soon informed them she had put on shortly after their initial expressions of glee at the food before them. The crew downed tools and relaxed for a bit, too, quickly zoning in on the vast array of appetizers, of which Tabitha had made a huge excess in anticipation of just such an event.

This was hard work. Not the cooking - Tabitha had done her fair share of catering and while she never had a film crew watching her every move it still wasn't the worst situation to be in; at least she was in her own kitchen, and there were plenty of distractions for the camera in case something went wrong. No, the hard part was interacting with Michelle Tait, trying to maintain enough of her 'hard faced' persona for the camera while at the same to proving to the other woman that she wasn't truly a bitch with no redeeming features.

Michelle, at least, seemed to be responding in kind - although she'd kept up her usual banter and heckling the whole evening, many of her jokes were directed towards her own performance, and she reinforced their joking nature with occasional reassuring glances, touches to the arm and shoulder as they passed one another in the kitchen - perhaps it was the festive spirit, perhaps it was that Michelle seemed to be more congenial and easy-going as the evening went on and their wine consumption increased, but in any event it felt in some ways as though all that discomfort, all those arguments and misunderstandings had never happened.

Tabitha knew that some part of this must be an act - there was simply no way that Michelle was feeling as relaxed and friendly as she appeared. But those glances, those little touches, even Tabitha, in all her stress and distraction, could see that they were real, they were meant to set her at ease and reassure her. The effect they had was mixed.

On the one hand, she was relieved to see that the other woman seemed to be giving her a chance, however much it might be played up for the camera. On the other hand, part of her couldn't stop thinking about that article that Paul had found - what were the viewers seeing, and how were they interpreting it? It wasn't that she was homophobic, or generally gave much thought to people's orientation one way or the other. It was just... she had never had people speculating about her before, at least that she knew of, and the added pressure that each small touch and glance might be taken a certain way made her all the more conflicted.

Still, there wasn't much she could do about it, and after all, was it any worse than people calling her 'Tabitha Hardface', one she'd definitely heard before, or spreading rumours (usually untrue) about the trouble she caused on set with her temper.

She resolved to put it out of her mind; dwelling on it was only going to make her feel more paranoid, after all. When the starter was done she all but jumped out of her seat in order to hurry back to the kitchen to prepare and plate the main dish.

She heard Michelle began to speak as she went, apparently reacting to a cue card from Laura, as she was saying, "And apparently it's time we took a quick break here, so we're going to take you just now to another clip-show - sorry, sorry, 'some more highlights'," she corrected herself with heavy sarcasm, "from this series, with some sneak peeks at what's to come in the new year."

A few moments later, Tabitha, bent over the counter pulling the final touches of the main course together and preparing the last minute things that needed to be done on the spot, heard the kitchen door click shut, and a long sigh as Michelle relaxed back against it. "How long 'til midnight?" she asked.

"Too long," Tabitha murmured without looking up.

"Still," the other woman said, and Tabitha heard her push away from the door and move across the spacious kitchen toward her, her heels clacking gently on the flagstones, "I'm having fun." Tabitha saw the shadow across the counter as Michelle arrived by her side. "Can I help with anything?"

"You're having fun? really?" She hadn't meant to sound so skeptical, but she hadn't expected Michelle to express such an opinion when the cameras weren't on her.

"Sure. I mean, it's crazy, but it's kind of brilliant to, y'know? I mean, no one's really done this before."

"Oh. Right." Of course she meant the format and the potential ratings. "I guess not."

"It's exciting to be trail-blazing like this," Michelle said now, sounding slightly confused, as though she sensed the disappointment.

"Mmhmm." Tabitha bent over the meat; it was slightly pinker than she would've liked, but there wasn't much she could do about that now. She glanced up to find Michelle staring at her quizzically. "I mean, yeah, it's great. Ground-breaking?" She hazarded, hoping that would satisfy the other woman.

Michelle chewed her lip for a moment. "Are you hating this? You're hating this, aren't you?"

"What? No," Tabitha scowled. "It's all right, seriously. I don't hate it."

"Then what's..." Michelle hesitated, then lifted a hand and touched it gently to the other woman's shoulder. "I know you've been trying really hard to get along tonight. I want you to know that I really appreciate it."

Tabitha glanced down at the other woman's hand - had Michelle always been that tactile? She hadn't noticed it with the other crew but then, had she really paid attention? "Mm. I mean it's fine. I'm glad you're enjoying this. I'm sure it is good television."

This didn't seem to be quite the response Michelle had hoped for, but she smiled nonetheless, before stepping back and turning her attention to the preparation of the next course - just in time for the camera operator to reappear at the kitchen door.

Just as they plated the last dish there came a cry of 'hurry up, we're starving!' From the other room - Tabitha wasn't sure if this was scripted or not, but she rolled her eyes as she hefted two of the plates. "They've been sitting on their arses drinking all night, what do they have to complain about?"

Michelle only laughed, and retrieved two more plates herself to follow Tabitha through.

 

There was a minor incident where Tabitha happened to drip a bit of sauce into the comic's lap - an accident, she said - but other than that the food made it to the table just fine. Tabitha took her seat next to Michelle; she was ravenous after only nibbling and tasting all day but knew she couldn't just wolf down her food and escape to the kitchen this time.

Fortunately, the guests were well chosen - the dinner conversation, though intially focussed on the deliciousness of the food, was wide-ranging and lively, running through pop-culture and politics, and featuring several delightful anecdotes from their celebrity guests. Michelle had apparently worked with two of them before, which helped to create the atmosphere of camaraderie, and Tabitha realised that as far as anyone watching was concerned, they could all be the best of friends at a dinner party together, and she marvelled a little at the skill that went into engineering such a natural-looking situation from such an artificial set-up. She found herself staring at Michelle as she thought this, impressed anew by her ingenuity and creativity. The other woman glanced up and caught her eye, of course, her small, almost private smile sparking another wave of confusion and conflict.

Luckily Michelle's - and the camera's - attention was soon diverted by a lively debate between the politician and the journalist, and Tabitha was happy to sink back into her chair and listen on in silence. Perhaps it wasn't like her to keep her mouth shut, but then, it wasn't like her to agree to cater a holiday party on live television with a distracting 'sidekick' to boot.

Michelle too seemed uncharacteristically quiet, now, and indeed was the first to leap up to begin gathering plates when everyone had finished their main course. Tabitha soon followed, keen to serve dessert and get the guests - and the crew - out of her flat as soon as possible. Midnight can't come soon enough.

"Not long now," Michelle said as the familiar quiet click of the kitchen door heralded Tabitha's entrance. "Just a bit longer. Then we can kick everyone out and clean this crap up."

This time Tabitha did look up from her busy work - sprinkling the sugar on top of her lavender creme brulées - and frowned. "You're not staying to clean up. There's a crew supposed to come tomorrow to do that."

Michelle raised her eyebrows. "And you're going to leave your kitchen covered in dirty dishes and let them clean it up for you tomorrow, are you?"

"They can do the hard work - there's no way I'm bothering with the meat pan, they can have it," the chef replied, snorting.

"Sure. But I don't believe for a second that you're going to just go to bed without doing anything." Then Michelle seemed to catch herself, a thought striking her. "Oh, but I can go, sorry, I wasn't thinking. That's fine."

"What? No, I wasn't... you can stay if you want. But you're sure as hell not cleaning up - you've done enough tonight already. I wouldn't make you wash up too."

"Hey, I'm the skivvy, remember?"

"And you did a good job. I'd hire you for my kitchen any day," Tabitha said with a hint of a smile. "But even skivvies get time off for good behavior."

"And so do chefs. Fine," Michelle went on, "have it your way. I'll tell you what. When all this is over, I'll stay if you'd like, and we can metaphorically finish that wine we never did after [Johnathan Ross], and you can let me do some dishes. And if not, that's okay too, and I'll let my brother force me to go to whatever ridiculous party he's at. Agreed?"

"Sure, why not - agreed."

"Now, let's get this dessert shoved down people's throats in time for the bells, hm?"

Dessert wasn't shoved down anybody's throat, but it was perhaps eaten a bit more hastily than the other courses as the countdown to midnight was imminent. After dessert was finished their was a hasting clearing of tables and sets (and dishes dumped back in the kitchen) so that all six could be clustered by the couch with glasses of champagne in their hands, waiting for the bells. Tabitha couldn't quite breathe a sigh of relief yet, but now that the cooking was done (and had gone well, for the most part) she was considerably less keyed-up and could sip her bubbly without worrying what was coming next. Except, of course, she still was.

Michelle wanted to stay behind and help clean up - for what reason? Was it just another gesture of friendship, an offer of help from a kind and generous person? Or was there something more to it - to the glances and little touches and secretive smiles all night. She seemed to have relaxed a little now that the cooking was over with, reclining in one of the chairs with her glass of champagne, having a spirited discussion with her father's actor friend.

Tabitha found herself staring once again, though luckily she caught herself before Michelle saw her and turned away, sipping at her champagne and glancing anxiously at the clock. There were only a few minutes to go, and although they still had the cameras on them Tabitha had a feeling that they would be catching the conversation between Michelle and [old actor dude] rather than paying any attention to her.

It was easy to forget the other woman came from such an illustrious background - though she was attractive and talented she didn't have any of the entitled attitude Tabitha would've expected from a person with such lineage. She knew from experience how hard she worked, too; she certainly didn't coast to success on her family's coattails - though they had always supported one another there was no sign of her parents ever having used their influence to get her ahead.

"Okay everybody, on your feet!" came the call, and everybody was corralled into a suitably photogenic arrangement; Tabitha ended up sandwiched between the politician and Michelle. One of the crew hurried round to refill their glasses, and then they waited for the final seconds of the year to tick by, joining in on the count as it reached the last ten.

"...Five, four-" Tabitha felt the other woman's slim arm snake around her waist, though they had already been standing quite close - "...three, two-"

"One! Happy New Year, everybody!"

There was much cheering and hugging all around - somehow Tabitha was incredibly aware all the way through of Michelle's arm around her waist, and somewhere in the mix they of course had to turn to one another to exchange congratulations. Tabitha smiled tentatively down at the other woman, her heart jumping into her throat.

"So, um, we did it."

"We did," Michelle said, returning the smile, standing on tiptoe to kiss Tabitha on the cheek. "Happy New Year," she murmured.

"Yeah... Happy New Year," Tabitha mumbled back, wishing that the cameras were not there, that the guests had gone, that it was just her and Michelle there in the room, together. Michelle's free hand found hers, then, squeezing it briefly before letting go, stepping back and turning to hug the other guests in turn, giving them each that same kiss on the cheek.

 

And that, as they say, was that - the guests cleared out over the next hour and the crew began to tidy up, keen to finish up and perhaps catch the tail end of any parties that might still be going on. One of the cameramen had the foresight to follow Tabitha back into the kitchen, where she surveyed the carnage with a weary 'fuck me' and an instruction to anyone thinking of catering their own party to avoid it at all costs.

"And that's a wrap," Laura said with a chuckle as they went off-air. "Wow, that was something - our figures were way above what we expected given we were up against all the new year parties."

"Don't think that means I'm agreeing to do that again - that was a one-time only thing," Tabitha told her with a warning look.

"Mm, yeah, see you next year," Laura said with a smirk.

"Mm, sure. Take it easy."

"Do you need anything else or will we just clear out?"

Tabitha snorted, leaning back against the countertop and crossing her arms. "I think you've been here long enough, don't you?"

Laura grinned. "We'll see you soon - Michelle said she was going to organise a board meeting to talk about the future sometime in February?"

"Did she? All right... guess I'll see you then."

 

"So. Shall I head off too?" Michelle was sitting perched on the arm of the couch, champagne still in hand.

Tabitha stood in the doorway, fingers playing with the hem of her shirt. "You, ah, don't have to go. You've still got a drink to finish," she pointed out.

The other woman hesitated. "Join me, then?"

"...okay."

 

After a few minutes Tabitha was seated in the nearby armchair, a glass of leftover champagne in her hand as she surveyed the room - the crew had done what they could do to set it up as it had been, but she would have to spend some time getting things just so again.

"You have a really nice flat," Michelle said now, perhaps seeing the other woman surveying the room.

"What? Oh, um, thanks. It's all right."

"Did you do it up yourself, or-"

"So that went okay. The filming, I mean," Tabitha interjected suddenly.

"Um..." Michelle blinked. "Yeah, I think it did - Stu texted, said it was looking good."

"Laura said the numbers were good. So that's good. The board'll be pleased."

"Um, yeah," the other woman said again, crossing her legs at the ankles. "What do you think? Would you want to do that again? Did you get anything out of it?"

"I didn't have to wear a dress," the chef snorted. "So there's that."

The other woman chuckled. "You hate wearing dresses that much?"

"They're just idiotic things to wear when you're cooking, because you have to wear those stupid shoes and I'd rather cut off my own feet than spend all day moving around in heels."

Michelle rolled her eyes, "Tell me about it. Mind you, if I don't wear heels I can't see above the counters, so..."

"C'mon, you're not that short."

"Compared to you, I'm a midget," Michelle said with a grin. "Haven't you noticed when they film us together they have to do it at an angle to get us both in shot? An angle which sometimes involves looking up my delightful nostrils."

"Well, if you want I'm sure we can get you a stool..." Tabitha smirked.

"Hey, no teasing, I'm bearing my tiny soul here..."

"Or a high chair..."

"Hey, y'know what..."

"You want stilts? I think we have room in the budget for those."

"Yes, stilts," Michelle said seriously. "It is definitely a good idea for me to totter around a kitchen on stilts..."

"Oh no, you wouldn't be allowed in my kitchen on stilts. You're already enough of a hazard to yourself as it is," Tabitha said, nodding towards Michelle's hand. "You think I want to get sued?"

"Hah, if I was going to sue you I'd've done it already," Michelle said with a wry grin.

Thankfully Tabitha's expression didn't change from one of ironic amusement as she lifted her glass. "Yeah, I guess you missed your chance there."

"Mm. Well..." Michelle's expression turned thoughtful at this, then she seemed to decide that whatever was on her mind wasn't worth sharing, and she stood, glass still in hand. "So shall we clean the kitchen a bit?" she suggested now. "I know you're not going to bed and leaving it like that..."

"Fine, if you want to do dishes instead of go party, be my guest," the chef said, standing. "My very strange, possibly deranged guest..."

"Oh, I'll get around to partying," Michelle said, heading toward the kitchen, "don't you worry."

 

They worked for the better part of an hour - attacking the dishes and pots and pans and glasses that had stacked up over the course of the evening. Luckily she had a dishwasher, which she put Michelle in charge of loading while she got to work on the more delicate flutes and glasses in the sink.

Michelle kept up the congenial banter all the while, although it was a little less bright and confident as it had been before the crew had left, and slowly as they worked it dawned on Tabitha at last why Michelle must have been so keen to stay behind: She wanted Tabitha to be assured that her demeanor - her friendly chatter, the gentle teasing - was not on this occasion an 'act' for the camera. It was a little affected, yes, in that it didn't perhaps truly reflect her nerves or her feelings about spending more time with Tabitha. But it wasn't only for the benefit of others - it was for Tabitha's sake as well.

The chef found herself touched by the gesture, if somewhat confused by it. She tried to respond in kind, though her 'banter' was poorly unpracticed and even more awkward than Michelle's, and frequently punctuated by mutterings to herself as she fought with slippery wine glasses and soapy knives.

"Okay. So." Michelle finally stood back from the now clear and freshly wiped countertop, Tabitha having just placed the last cleaned and dried champagne flute back in her cupboard. "I guess your cleaning team won't have much to do after all."

"I guess not," Tabitha agreed with a smirk. "Have you ever considered a change of career? Because I definitely think you have it in you to be a pretty good dishwasher..."

"Better than I am at producing?" the other woman said in a mock-warning tone, eyebrows raised.

"Mm, I dunno. I guess you're okay at that too."

"Well. Just so's we're clear then."

"So... Laura said you were going to talk to the board in February?" Tabitha ventured then, busying herself straightening the kitchen towels.

"Mm..." Michelle turned to lean back against the counter. "Yeh, I figured it would be good to talk about how we move forward. I was going to suggest we met beforehand so that I'm fighting your corner properly as it were."

"...right. Okay."

"I mean. If you like."

"Yeah. I mean, of course, I just... what do you want to do?"

"But what do you want?"

"Me?"

Michelle frowned slightly. "Yes. I mean, it's your show. What do you want out of it?"

"I don't know." Tabitha shook her head. "For people to watch it, I guess."

"I think you get that either way."

"Right."

The other woman hesitated. Then nodded, looking a little disappointed by this. "All right," she said, pushing away from the counter. "I guess I should go, let you... do whatever you like with your New Year."

"Wait," Tabitha said, frowning. "I meant - I've liked this. A lot more. I just... don't want you to feel like you have to stay, if you still want to get out."

"You don't need me around to do your show the way you want to."

Tabitha hesitated; she supposed this was true, but part of what she had come to enjoy so much wasn't just the format but Michelle's presence. Apparently the feeling wasn't mutual, though. "Sure," she said with a shrug, trying to hide her conflicted emotions. "I guess not."

"So. I'll... meet with the board. And tell them you... want to continue in this direction?"

"Will you continue as producer? Or are you ditching that as well?"

Michelle frowned a little, flinching, almost. "I... don't know," she said eventually.

"Fine. Well, when you figure it out, send me a memo." It slipped out before Tabitha could help it, and she turned away, reaching out to place a hand flat on the cool countertop.

"Look, this isn't about me, all right?" Michelle snapped then. "I didn't ask for this - I thought I was just turning up and doing my job - you are the one who turned this into some crazy mission of self-discovery. You with your..." She broke off, and Tabitha heard sigh of frustration.

"When did I ask for this?" Tabitha asked, whirling around. "You just waltzed in with your big ideas, trying to 'help', pretending to want to be friends..."

"I wasn't pretending!" Michelle said, squaring up, just as she had on the road that night in Italy, her cheeks flushed now. "I was trying to be your fucking friend - Christ knows you need one - then maybe your ego and your insane paranoia wouldn't have completely taken over your personality!"

"So what part of this whole thing was you trying to be my friend?" the taller woman wanted to know, balling her hands into fists at her sides. "The part where you constantly act like you might pull out of the goddamn production at any time? Or the part where you fuck with me on camera just for ratings' sake?"

"Oh for the last time I am not fucking with you! You're the one who can't make up her mind whether you want me to stay or go!"

"Well, what am I supposed to do when you say you want to be my 'friend' and then spend half the time fucking flirting with me?" Tabitha all but shouted.

The other woman's eyes widened. "Flirting with you?"

"Yeah, don't think I didn't notice!"

Michelle nodded now, though not in agreement but with the air of someone who's just come to a realisation. "Wow. Okay." She paused, then, "I know you saw that article. I guess I didn't think you would be one of those women. But, y'know. Okay. I'm glad I know." She turned, then, leaving the kitchen, that rhythmic clack changing in timbre as she moved from flagstone to wood, heading for where her coat hung in the hall closet.

Furiously Tabitha opened and then closed one of the cupboards with a slam, unsure who she was more upset with: Michelle, Paul, or herself. Michelle, however, wasn't finished yet it seemed, reappearing in the kitchen doorway, coat on, bag slung over her shoulder. "Oh, and you'll be pleased to know I've made my decision: you and your show can both go fuck yourselves. I don't work with homophobes." She turned again, this time headed for the door in a purposeful manner only marginally slowed by the slight sway to her stride.

Fuck! Just what I need... Something kept Tabitha from calling out after her, from running to catch her to assure her that no, she wasn't homophobic, really, just confused and a bit frightened and if she would just come back and sit down they could talk it over... The door slammed, and Tabitha realized numbly that not only had she probably just effectively sentenced her wildly-popular TV show to a quick and spectacular death, but that she had let the woman who stirred up intense and conflicting emotions within her walk out convinced that not only was Tabitha a sad, pathetic, paranoid wreck but also a bigot and a waste of time. And that, more than the fate of the TV show, was what caused her to sink to the floor and give into the tears that were truthfully never that far away.

 

"I don't know what I was thinking. You were right - I should just have cut my losses after Italy. I'm an idiot." Michelle sipped tentatively at the mug of tea she was cradling in her hands, shifting to settle back more comfortably into the battered armchair she'd claimed on emerging from Stu's spare room that morning - well, early afternoon.

"Hey, you're just way too nice, like I said at the time." Her brother looked over at her from his position flat on his back on his couch. "She didn't deserve it."

"Yeah..." Michelle sighed, balancing her mug on the arm of the chair and rubbing a hand across her face. "Shit, Stu, what if I was flirting with her? You saw it - was I flirting with her?"

"God, don't ask me, I don't want to think about that," he said, making a face. "And so what if you were? Doesn't mean she gets to act all uptight and homophobic about it."

"Katie? Come on, help me out here..." Michelle directed, looking through her fingers at the young woman currently curled up against Stu on the couch.

"Mm, Iunno," the younger woman said, rousing herself and propping herself up on one elbow. "It didn't look that flirty to me, but it could just be that all Taits are really bad at it."

"Hey!" Stu protested. "Just 'cause you ignored all my best moves..."

Katie rolled her eyes, grinning. "What moves? Anyway, I mean, there were a couple 'moments', but I thought it was just a 'kitchen comrades in arms' thing."

"'Moments'... right..." Michelle sighed, reaching for her mug again and nearly knocking it off the arm of the chair in the process. "I didn't think I was flirting," she said now, a little defensively. "And I usually know, y'know? I mean, I'm not the 'flirt by accident' type."

"Ugh can we stop talking about you flirting?" Stuart moaned. "She's still a bitch, and you're far better off without her. And her show. You should resign. Right now! I'll get you the phone..." He struggled to sit up; Katie squeaked as he threatened to nudge her off the couch.

"No, no, don't be ridiculous, Stu - it's the first of bloody January. I haven't signed up to continue yet anyway; I'll deal with it at the board meeting in February."

"All right, fine. But no going back. Promise?"

"Oh, I promise."

"Good. Now, who's gonna make the medicinal bacon? One... two... threenotit!"

 

As much as she didn't want to, Tabitha had to face up to the facts. Michelle had not responded to any of her attempts to contact her - well, the late-night phone calls she had tried after nearly a whole bottle of wine and a small nervous breakdown a few days into the new year. She could only assume the other woman intended to resign from the show at the February meeting and frankly, she couldn't bring herself to care very much about the fact that this would be a terrible blow to both the crew and the ratings. Indeed, she decided a bit pre-emptively not to have anything to do with the show and its planning from here on out - if indeed it continued at all. Instead she threw most of her time, energy and what money she had available towards developing plans for a new restaurant, which quickly consumed her and distracted her from the aching loneliness she felt inside.

It took her a while to figure out how this was any different from things had been before - after all, hadn't she always been lonely? It was a very long time since she'd let herself have close friends or companions in life. And Michelle hadn't even been that close - not really. Things had always been too uncertain, too fragile between them to be called friendship. There were overtures, and small gestures, but really, what had dissolved between them during that conflict in the kitchen had not been friendship as it was usually known. It was something so unfamiliar to Tabitha that it took her weeks to figure it out, and weeks more to actually admit it to herself. Against her will and her better judgment, she had fallen just a little bit in love with the vivacious, talented, interesting Michelle Tait.

February arrived, and the board meeting happened. Laura reported to her later, in a perfunctory sort of way, that Michelle had attended, and had been very cooperative in presenting ideas for how they should move forward with the format, even going so far as to present them with a short list of potential variations and ideas for 'specials', and an additional list of potential people to replace her who, she felt, would be able to cope with the fast-paced 'reality TV' style format should they wish to continue with it. Apparently, while sorry to lose her, she'd left them thanking her rather than cursing her, which seemed to be Michelle's way - with everyone except Tabitha, anyway.

Filming for the next season of Tabitha wouldn't happen until much later in the year, and as such Tabitha again put it from her mind, leaving Laura with the responsibility for steering it forward however she pleased - both a blessing and a burden.

 

As for Michelle, she moved on very easily from the cookery project, at first spending a good month dedicated to the film, which had been renamed One For Me, Two For You. Filming had wrapped up in the winter and the editing work was just finishing, which meant that there was a spate of publicity, advertising and festivals to attend to now.

Michelle found, though, that as the year wore on and Easter approached, a tiny knot began to grow in her stomach again. It wasn't as though the Italy special was going to be particularly widely publicised, and it wasn't as though she had to watch it. But still, a small part of her couldn't help dwelling on it all the same.

Stuart must have told her parents not to make a fuss of the upcoming season, as their usual support and excitement was toned down quite a bit, though not entirely absent. Her brother, though distracted by his new and flourishing relationship with Katie, was still happy to remind her at any moment how much better off she was to have put Tabitha behind her.

Michelle, try as she might, couldn't quite seem to convince herself that the other woman was behind her. She still had those late-night messages sitting in her answerphone memory, and although she hadn't listened to them for some time, the last of them was still burned indelibly into her memory.

"Michelle? Are you there? It's Tabitha. Listen, I know you're probably ignoring my calls and it's not that I don't get it - I do. It's just, listen, I'm not the person you think I am. Or at least, I don't want to be... fuck. I just wish you would... you know what? Nevermind. Forget it. It's probably best you do what you want to do and stop giving me a chance. I'll just fuck it up anyway. I just wanted to say... I'm sorry. For messing you around. And saying those things. They weren't what I meant to say. I'm just... I'm sorry. And... I miss you. Okay. Goodbye."

It was third time Tabitha had apologised to her. The previous two occasions, Michelle had been so determined to follow her principles, to reward honesty and admission of culpability with another chance, and another. This time, she hadn't called back - hadn't even been in touch for professional reasons, in fact, had left everything to the more impersonal touch of her assistant. And yet there the message sat, untouched, in the machine's memory. The one last piece of physical evidence that she couldn't erase, to go with all the evidence in her head and heart that Tabitha had managed to embed herself far, far deeper than Michelle had ever intended.

Still, she had to move on, for so many reasons, and as the weeks passed she found herself filling her time as she used to - finding projects to work on, drinks with friends, spending most Sundays with her families, and several nights a week with Stuart and sometimes Katie, talking about 'art' or writing or cinema or the building press about their film. It was only when she let herself sit down and think that her mind inevitably strayed to Tabitha, wondering what she was doing, whether she was as sad and lonely as she had secretly been all along. Several times she found herself taxiing by 24a, tempted to stop into the bar in order to catch a glimpse of the other woman, but she resisted.

She also returned to her habit of, every couple of weeks, heading out with friends to some bar or club or party and leaving with company - sometimes new, often familiar. She hadn't even realised that she'd stopped doing so, and that realisation had bothered her enough that she'd resolved to immediately reprise the pratice.

 

It was during the preparation for one of these nights that she received a phone call on her mobile - glancing over as she applied the last of her subtle makeup she saw that it was Suze, who generally tried not to call past business hours unless it was urgent. Picking up the phone, she was greeted by a worried-sounding assistant.

"Hi, Michelle, I'm really sorry to call so late - I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"Not yet," Michelle quipped. "What's on your mind?"

"Well, um, I just got a call from Paul - Tabitha's assistant?" There was a pause, and Michelle could almost imagine her assistant flinching slightly. Suze had been careful to keep all references to the chef to a minimum, and she knew she wouldn't have brought her up if it wasn't important. "He says he's really worried about her and that he doesn't know what to do, and I know you aren't dealing with her anymore and I said that, but he said anything you could suggest would be really helpful..."

Frowning, Michelle placed down the mascara stick she'd just finished with, standing up from her dressing table. "I don't understand," she said. "I don't see how I'd be of any help..." At the silence on the other end of the line, she sighed. "Okay, what's going on?"

"She's locked herself in her room, apparently. And she won't come out. For a couple days now. He's not sure if she's eating or not and she keeps just telling him to go away."

"Jesus..."

"He said it started when she got a call from hospital?" Suze said then, sounding as if she hoped Michelle would know what that meant.

"Ah." Chewing her lower lip, Michelle frowned. "She doesn't have any family? Friends?"

"I think he's called everybody he could."

"Fuck. All right." Michelle checked her phone for the time. "All right. Um. Is he there right now? Is there someone to let me in?"

Oh, are you going over? I mean, yeah, I think he's there..."

"Well, what else am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called..."

"No..." Michelle sighed. "No, it's fine, you're fine. Of course you should've called. Thanks, Suze. Look, could you call Bill Green and give my apologies? Tell him I might make it out later."

"Okay, yeah, of course. Is there anything else I can do? Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, it's fine." Michelle was already in the hallway, now, gathering bag and coat together with one arm as the callback for her taxi beeped in the background of Suze's call. "Although... um, could you just... be near your phone? I probably won't call. But just in case?"

"Sure, no problem. I'll be here. Um..." Suze hesitated, and then hurried onward. "Good luck. I hope everything's okay?"

"Mm. Thanks, Suze."

Paul buzzed her in when she reached Tabitha's building, his voice sounding anxious and worried even through the tinny reception of the speaker. His appearance didn't do much to bolster her confidence when he opened the door looking haggard and drawn. "Oh, thank God you're here Ms Tait - I'm so sorry to have bothered you, I just didn't know what else to do."

"I don't know what makes you think I can help," Michelle murmured, glancing off down the hallway - she didn't even know which room was Tabitha's. "I mean, I don't know what I can say or do that's going to make any difference."

"I know, I just... I think if anyone was going to get through to her, it'd be you," he said, pitching his voice low. "She really respects you - and likes you. Maybe you can find out what's wrong, why she won't come out. She's already missed two meetings and a dinner appointment - if this keeps up it could be really bad. Besides the fact that it's already bad. For her, I mean," he said, frowning.

Michelle nodded. "I dunno, Paul. I'm not sure I'm going to be the right person to speak to her. But if you can't see any other options, I'll try. Where is she?"

"In her bedroom. The second door on the left," he said, pointing.

"Right. All right." Michelle headed then not toward the bedroom however but toward the kitchen, and it was several minutes later that she returned to Tabitha's door with two steaming mugs gripped carefully in one hand, and knocked the door with the other.

"Tabitha? I made tea..."

There was a long pause; Michelle wondered if Tabitha was even in there, or if perhaps she had snuck out when Paul was occupied on the phone or in the toilet. Then there came a reply from a creaky, quiet voice that the producer didn't recognize at first as Tabitha's. "Go away. I don't want company."

"Let me bring your tea in, then?"

"Leave it outside the door."

"Please, Tabitha... Let me see you?"

"Fuck off." The other woman's voice broke; she sounded a bit closer to the door than she did before. "What are you even doing here?"

"I'm here. And I want to help, if I can. But you need to let me in, okay?"

She heard a sigh and the sound of Tabitha's forehead gently hitting the door. "You can't help."

"Let me in anyway?" Michelle suggested quietly.

Very slowly the door opened; Tabitha stared out from the darkened interior of the room. Even in the dim light Michelle could see her bloodshot eyes and the dark circles underneath them.

Michelle held the tea up in front of her. "I wasn't sure how you take your tea, but..."

"Thanks." Tabitha reached for the tea, her hand shaking slightly as she took the mug.

"So can I come in? Or... would you like to come out?"

"I don't want to talk. I'm fine. Tell Paul I'm fine."

"He told me you'd been in here two days."

"So?" Tabitha bristled, swaying slightly. "It's my room. It's my flat. I can stay here if I want."

"You can. You can do anything you want," Michelle said carefully. "But you're worrying him. And me," she added.

Tabitha snorted and stepped back from the door; it was a moment before Michelle realized she was letting her into the room. She stepped into the dark room, looking around. It was quite sparsely furnished, the curtains drawn over the large windows along the far wall. The bed was the only large piece of furniture, and it was apparent from the mounded pillows and duvets that Tabitha must have spent most of the past two days burrowed underneath, hiding.

"So Paul said that the hospital called?" Michelle asked quietly as Tabitha closed the door behind them.

The other woman froze, then turned slowly to face her. "Mm."

"We don't have to talk about it," Michelle said. "We could just drink our tea, and I'll go. Or stay. But if you decide you want to, that's okay too."

"There isn't anything to say." Tabitha crossed the room, slumping down onto the edge of the bed. She stared down at the mug in her hands. "He's dying."

"Your dad."

"Yup."

"Were you close?"

"Hah."

Michelle raised her eyebrows. "Um?"

"That's... not really a relevant question."

"All right."

"You get on with your family."

The other woman nodded, tentatively taking a seat next to the other woman on the bed. "I do, yeah."

"How would you feel? If your father was dying?"

"I..." Michelle frowned, shaking her head. "I don't know. Terrible."

"You'd be sad."

"Of course."

"Well I'm not."

The other woman nodded slowly. "I see."

"That bastard made my life a living hell for sixteen years and I'm fucking glad he's dying," Tabitha said, her voice shaking with emotion. "I can't wait until I can go whenever I want and spit on his grave."

Michelle glanced over quickly. This didn't entirely come as a surprise, but the pain in the other woman's voice was still affecting. Hesitating, the shorter woman reached out a hand to put it on Tabitha's shoulder, for now forgetting how she'd reacted to her last attempts to reach out physically. The taller woman flinched but didn't pull away, still staring down at the mug clasped in her hands.

"They want me to come in. They say he's asked to see me. I... I'm afraid of what I might do if I did."

"What do you think he wants?"

"Probably forgiveness. It wasn't his fault, you know. I made him do it..." A strangled laugh escaped; Tabitha ducked her head, lank hair dangling over her face.

"Would it help you to hear him apologise? Do you know?"

"Fuck no. I don't want to hear any more of his excuses, and I'll never forgive him for what he did. Never."

"So you won't see him. That's okay," Michelle went on quickly, "by the way. I'm not saying that you ought to."

"Well, you'll be the only one - as soon as it gets out that I refused to see my dying father it'll just be another weight on the 'bitch' scales and pretty soon I won't be able to pay anyone for good PR."

"Hey..." Michelle's hand slid to cover Tabitha's. "That's the last thing you should be thinking about right now."

"So what should I be thinking about? My father, on his deathbed?" Tabitha demanded, fingers clenching. "My mother, drinking herself to death by forty-five? All the things he said and did to me when I was just a kid? I don't want to think about any of that!"

The other woman sighed, shaking her head. "I don't know," she said. "I don't know. But I know that whatever it is you shouldn't have to go through this alone."

"Well, tough shit," the taller woman replied, pulling away suddenly, turning to face Michelle with a sneer on her lips. "I've made sure of that, haven't I? Do you see anybody else here to make me tea, hold my hand? The only person Paul could think to call was you - and we haven't spoken in months!"

Michelle nodded calmly, shrugged. "I'm here now," she said.

"I don't want your pity, Tait."

"Pity and sympathy are different things."

"Jesus..." Tabitha set the mug down on the bedside table, reaching up to grind her palms into her eyes as she leaned forward over her knees. After a moment Michelle realized she was crying, and it took only a moment's thought before Michelle reached out for her, pulling her into her arms even as she resisted a little, holding her tightly as her shoulders began to shake and she began to sob in earnest, though she never made a sound. Once the tears began to flow it seemed Tabitha couldn't stop them, even as she reached up to swipe at her face first with one sodden sleeve, then the other, and it was some time later that she eventually pulled away, turning away as if in shame.

"Hey... c'mere..." Michelle said, leaning to tug the other woman around by her arm. "It's okay."

"No it's not! Jesus, none of this is okay," Tabitha said thickly, turning back to face Michelle with tear-streaked cheeks. "It's fucked up beyond belief and you're crazy if you think getting involved is going to go well for you."

"Well, I'm involved, so I dunno. Too late."

"Jesus..." Tabitha said again, though most of the fight seemed to have gone out of her and she sighed, shoulders slumping.

Michelle chewed her lower lip for a long moment before speaking again. "If I send Paul home, will you let me stick around?" she asked now.

"I doubt I could kick you out," the other woman mumbled.

"All right, okay," Michelle said in as decisive a tone as she could muster. "Now," she said, leaning forward to tuck a strand of hair behind Tabitha's ear. "I'm going to make some dinner. Or order some. We'll see. And you should take a shower, okay? You'll feel better, I promise."

"I doubt that," came the response, but she roused slightly, blinking and shifting towards the edge of the bed.

"Right. Well, do it anyway," Michelle said with an attempt at a smile of encouragement. "Humour me." Impusively, she pulled Tabitha into another brief, tight hug, before pulling back and standing, heading out of the room without another word to give Paul his leave.

 

It took some convincing to get Paul to leave, though whether it was because he was worried about Tabitha's well-being or Michelle's it was hard to say. Eventually he did pack his things up and go, after promising to return first thing in the morning to 'relieve' Michelle should she still be there. As soon as she bid him goodnight and made her way towards the kitchen she heard the sound of the shower starting and was glad to see that Tabitha, while obviously reluctant to have her around, was amenable to her suggestions.

Ironically, the kitchen was quiet bare - replete with condiments and non-perishable ingredients, but all the fresh food beginning to look a little past its best. As such, Michelle took a quick look around for some takeaway menus, eventually finding them the bottom drawer of one of the units. Apparently even celebrity chefs had to dump their junk mail menus somewhere. Finding one that she vaguely recognised as a good Thai place, Michelle ordered a couple of different dishes that she herself would be amenable to eating for Tabithat to pick between.

The other woman emerged a few minutes later clad in a robe over a t-shirt and checked flannel pajama bottoms, her long hair damp and twisted into a messy bun at the nape of her neck. She still looked somewhat worse for the wear but as she collapsed on the sofa with a weary sigh she gave Michelle a grateful look. "I guess that was a good idea."

"Damn right. Hope you like Thai food," Michelle said then, leaning across the coffee table from where she sat in one of the armchairs to slide a glass of freshly squeezed fruit juice across to her (the fruit had fared a little better than the veg). Her question was polite, more than anything else - the restaurant she'd called from the flat phone had known her address.

"Thanks." Tabitha contemplated the glass for a moment before leaning forward to pick it up; Michelle hadn't seen her drink any of her tea, in the end, but it seemed she might be more favourably inclined towards the juice. "Thai's fine."

"Good, okay," Michelle said with a gentle smile.

Tabitha nodded, taking a sip of juice before setting it back on the coffee table. She then drew her legs up onto the sofa and wrapped her arms around them, staring across at Michelle in a sort of vague, unfocused way.

Eventually, it was Michelle who spoke.

"You're your own person," she said quietly. Then, "No one else gets to tell you how you should or shouldn't feel right now. You know that, right?"

"It might be easier if someone did tell me," Tabitha muttered. "Then at least I'd know."

"But there's nothing to know. I don't think this is the same for anyone."

"Mm. I guess not."

"But that doesn't mean you can't take control."

Tabitha lifted her head slightly, brow furrowing. "How?"

"Well, I would start by not allowing yourself to be propelled into a self-perpetuating vicious cycle of self-loathing, but I think you missed the boat there," Michelle said with a slight smile.

"You should be a therapist," the other woman replied, making a face. "I feel better already."

"I'm cheaper than a therapist, deal with it," Michelle quipped now. "Look, what I am is here. I'm here, whatever you need. If you need someone to just keep you company. If you want to go to the hospital I can come. If you want to hide out for a bit, I can hide out with you. But if you think I'm going to find Tabitha fucking Harding cowering under the covers in a darkened room and just walk away then I'm sorry, that's not going to happen."

Tabitha flinched at the last part of Michelle's statement, and for a moment it looked as if she might lash out against the other woman's assessment, but in the end she merely shifted, sliding her legs out in front of her once again and grumbling "Has anybody ever told you how pushy you are?"

"Frequently. Now drink your juice."

 

Their food arrived not too long after - apparently Tabitha never had to wait too long for her takeaway. The chef picked at a container of pad thai, seemingly unenthused by the thought of food but wanting to avoid any further bullying from Michelle.

Michelle herself ate quickly before heading through to the bathroom to remove her make-up and jewellery. Tabitha hadn't commented on either, but she nevertheless felt odd being so over-presented for the surroundings and situation, and she returned to the lounge feeling much less at-odds, having also kicked her heels off in the hallway.

When she returned she found Tabitha unwinding her bun and running her fingers through the ends of her still-damp hair, nestled in the corner of the couch with her feet tucked underneath her.

She found herself stopping in the doorway, leaning against the frame as she watched the other woman, feeling herself suffused with... fondness? A strange sort of wistfulness perhaps... in any event, she found herself smiling a little as she watched the other woman carefully untangling that long auburn hair. Eventually Tabitha glanced up, pausing as she noticed Michelle's eyes on her.

"Sorry. You can... turn on the telly if you want. I think there's a remote around here somewhere..."

"Oh, I, um..." Realising that there was really very little else for them to do with their time, Michelle nodded. "Sure," she said, "we could do that. Or, I mean, I could grab a book or something," she said, gesturing to the hardback on Tabitha's coffee table.

"Sure." Tabitha unfolded herself from her position on the sofa, reaching for the book. "There's a bookshelf in the office."

"Right." Casting her mind back, Tabitha remembered where the office was from their set-up back at New Year. "I'll... be right back, then."

Tabitha's office was just as well-furnished and tidy as the rest of the flat, though it looked as though she spent at least a little time there. The bookshelf next to the door held several old ledgers, apparently from the time when Tabitha still did her own bookkeeping, a large number of old, battered recipe books, and a handful of like-new hardbacks, mainly, Michelle was secretly tickled to find, spy thrillers and mystery novels.

Selecting one of the latter, she made her way back through to the lounge, stomach clenching just a little with nerves. Could she and Tabitha really just spend time quietly reading in one another's company? After everything, could they be comfortable in silence together?

It seemed Tabitha at least certainly wasn't going to contribute any argument to the idea; she had settled on the sofa with her book propped in her lap, her hair trailing over the arm of the sofa and dripping slightly on the floor. She glanced up as Michelle entered but said nothing, acknowledging the other woman with a brief flick of her eyes before looking back at her book.

Michelle hesitated as she chose somewhere to sit, but settled for returning to her arm chair. Don't crowd her. She curled up and opened her book, pausing only to send a quick text to Suze: Don't think I'll need you for anything - thanks for being on-call.

Suze replied with an acknowledgement, and the two women settled in to their reading, the only sound the humming of appliances from the nearby kitchen. Tabitha was either a very slow reader or quite distracted, as she only turned pages every few minutes, but she seemed content enough.

Reminding herself that she was here to just be here, not to provide potentially unwanted guidance or opinion - any more than she already had, Michelle relaxed into reading her book, allowing the engagin if rather pedestrian plot to pull her in as the evening ticked by.

Reminding herself that she was here to just be here, not to provide potentially unwanted guidance or opinion - any more than she already had, Michelle relaxed into reading her book, allowing the engaging if rather pedestrian plot to pull her in as the evening ticked by. Tabitha got up twice, reaching into the pocket of her robe for her cigarettes and stepping out onto the balcony. She offered the pack to Michelle the first time, but after Michelle shook her head in the negative she didn't ask again, just disappearing outside alone to smoke in a perfunctory, businesslike way, as though she took little enjoyment in it and in point of fact saw it as a chore.

Eventually Michelle realized that it had gotten quite late - it had not been early when she arrived, and they had been reading for some time. Glancing over she saw that Tabitha had dozed off, her cheek resting against the back of the sofa, one hand still curled around her book. Idly, she found herself wondering how much the other woman had slept at all in the past couple of days - Michelle herself never missed a night's sleep, even when stressed, but she knew that that was not true for many people. As such, she eschewed waking the other woman in favour of fetching a fresh blanket from the linen cupboard she found in the hallway, draping it carefully over the other woman.

Tabitha shifted, cracking open her eyes and squinting up at Michelle in sleepy confusion for a moment before apparently relaxing and closing her eyes again, turning onto her side and pulling the blanket almost completely over her head. This just left Michelle to decide what to do - should she stay? Would it be better for her to leave?

Deciding to stay for a while longer, at least, she made her way first back to Tabitha's bedroom, laden with fresh sheets from the newly-discovered closet. Now even if Tabitha got up later that same night and went to bed she would do so in sheets that she hadn't been hidden beneath for days, and didn't have the smell of cigarette smoke hanging on them (Michelle suspected that the other woman had probably been smoking out the window, and she opened it wide now to help air the room). Retrieving another blanket, Michelle then curled back up in the big chair in which she'd spent the last several hours - there were advantages to being of small build and she was actually able to make herself quite comfortable.

 

"Mish? You need to pick up your damn phone... listen, I talked to Suze, she said you got called out to some 'emergency' at Tabitha Harding's. Please tell me you didn't go back into the dragon's den. Do I need to come rescue you? Seriously, call me back."

Michelle hung up, pulling the phone away from her ear and checking again when Stu had called - apparently in the evening some time after she'd arrived, and then again just a couple of hours ago, when it was already quite late. Fortunately, her phone had been on silent, and had woken neither the woman sleeping on the couch nearby nor Michelle herself. It was after two in the morning, now, but having a hunch that Stu might quite easily still be up, it being a weekend evening, she typed and sent a quick text message.

I'm fine. Family tragedy, she just needs someone around. Don't worry.

The response was not long in coming, though it was perhaps more garbled than his usual responses.

that's hpw they gety oiu. Bware!!

Smiling a little, she put her phone aside and looked across now at the other woman. She'd dimmed the lights, but hadn't turned them off, so she could make out the other woman's face. Tabitha looked calmer in sleep than Michelle had ever seen her; even when she was cooking she possessed a certain grim determination, her brows furrowed as she threw first this ingredient, then that into her creations. But now, with her eyes closed and her lips slightly parted in slumber she seemed almost peaceful, though Michelle knew she must feel anything but.

Quietly, Michelle rose from the chair, now, creeping through to the bedroom to close the window before returning to the sitting room, hovering yet again in the doorway. Should she leave? After some long moments' deliberation, she retrieved a scrap of paper from her bag and wrote a short note on it, approaching Tabitha carefully. The other woman was still lying in that same slightly uncomfortable-looking angle, book still lying in her hands, and Michelle reached to ease it away, now.

Tabitha must have only been dozing, as this motion was enough to rouse her. She opened her eyes quickly, looking startled, though her expression cleared as she saw Michelle. "What time... is it morning already?" She croaked.

"No, no, it's late," Michelle said with a smile. "You dozed off. You should go to bed," she added.

"Oh. Yeah, maybe..."

"Definitely. Come on," Michelle said, pushing the covers back a little and tugging gently on Tabitha's hand.

"I can move myself," the other woman protested, allowing herself to be drawn up from the couch. She stumbled a bit as she did so, stepping closer to Michelle and looking down at her with a curious, slightly confused expression.

"You okay?" Michelle asked, lacing their fingers together, trying to ignore the sudden tug in her stomach as she did so. There could not be a worse time to think about that. Later.

"Mm... hmm," Tabitha murmured, nodding her head almost automatically. "S'fine. I never noticed you had blue eyes before."

Michelle's brow furrowed briefly in confusion, then cleared. "Oh," she smiled, "I don't. They're contacts, just for a change." And that would be why your eyes are so dry, you idiot.

"Oh. They're nice. Your regular ones are better though." Tabitha yawned widely and rocked back slightly before steadyinf herself on Michelle's arm. "Right. Bed."

Tabitha, whether through accident or design, hadn't let go of Michelle's hand, and Michelle, rather dazed herself now, hadn't either. And so they stood now side by side before Tabitha's freshly-made bed in her freshly aired bedroom, and it was some moments before either of them spoke.

"New sheets," Tabitha commented, glancing over at Michelle again. "And the room's cold."

"I, um, opened the windows for bit," Michelle said, sounding almost sheepish.

"Oh. Thanks." With that Tabitha let go of her hand, finally, though she seemed quite reluctant to do so. "I guess I should..."

"Definitely. It's after two."

"Are you going to... leave?"

Michelle looked a little surprised. "I don't... have to," she said. "If you'd like me to stay..."

"Will you? I just..." Tabitha stifled another yawn. "You don't have to. I'll be okay."

"No, I mean yes, I'm happy to stick around," Michelle said, "if you'd like."

The other woman nodded, dropping down to sit on the bed. "Sure."

"'Kay."

 

Michelle wasn't sure how it happened - of course, Tabitha's office was actually the second bedroom, and of course the sofa wasn't a fold-out. She could've slept on it quite happily, but Tabitha insisted, and she looked so sleepy and needy... her body was cool - cooler than Michelle, who always ran a little hot, and so Michelle, so used to being enveloped in the arms of another found that she was cradling Tabitha against her as they settled down beneath the fresh sheets of her expansive bed.

Tabitha sighed and stretched out beside Michelle. She didn't seem very sure how to go about sleeping with another person in the bed - even as big as it was she kept scooting one way or the other, making small noises as she tried to get comfortable, and eventually Michelle pushed up onto her elbow, leaning over her, resting a reassuring hand on her arm. "It's okay," she murmured.

"Mm..." Tabitha turned over, slinging one arm across Michelle's waist.

Jesus... Michelle sucked in a breath, but steeled herself, forcing herself to relax.

Apparently content now, Tabitha settled down to sleep, her face only inches from Michelle's. Her breathing quickly became slow and rhythmic, her arm growing heavier where it lay over the other woman's middle.

So I guess she got over the paranoia that I wanted to jump her then, Michelle mused, a slight smile settling across her features. That new feeling hadn't gone - far from it, but like this, lying wrapped around one another clad in teeshirts and oversized flannel pyjama bottoms, Tabitha so weary and clinging, already asleep, it was easy to push to the background for now. For now, what mattered was that Tabitha was sleeping peacefully, that she had finally been able to help. Tha warmth that suffused at this was much more comforting than those other feelings, much more fulfilling, and at that moment it didn't occur to her that it might also be much more dangerous.

 

Michelle was woken the next morning by the sound of a key in the front door. Stirring and glancing at her mobile she saw that it was still quite early; perhaps Paul was always this early a riser, or perhaps he couldn't help himself and wanted to check on Tabitha as early as possible. She heard him put down his bag in the hallway and make his way to the kitchen to start the kettle; she knew he would see the neatly-stacked plates from the night before and hoped it would reassure him.

It wasn't long before the sounds filtering through from the kitchen gave Michelle another thought: did Paul bring Tabitha her morning tea in bed? What would he think if he saw them like this? It wouldn't cast Michelle in a particularly good light if it looked like she'd taken advantage of Tabitha's grief and confusion. Still, he was going to know that Michelle spent the night here, and where, soon enough. The only thing she could really do was make sure he found out on her terms, and as such, she shifted, assessing how well place she was to get out of bed without waking Tabitha. The other woman still seemed to be fast asleep, no longer clinging to Michelle but certainly close enough to feel it if she wasn't careful. In the end, Michelle slid gingerly out of bed, watching Tabitha carefully the whole time, hurrying to the bathroom as soon as she could in order to fix her hair and make herself look more presentable.

A little less touselled, although still in the too-big pyjamas they'd looked out at the last minute the previous night, Michelle padded through to the kitchen, waiting until the young man wasn't doing anything involving hot liquids before knocking very gently on the door frame.

"Milk and one for me, thanks."

Paul turned quickly, his mouth forming an 'O' of surprise as he took in Michelle's presence and then her appearance. "Ms Tait," he stammered, blushing slightly. "I... I... didn't know you were still here."

"How would you?" Michelle said in a reassuring tone. "Anyway, Tabitha asked me to stay, so here I am."

"Oh. She... asked you to stay?"

At this Michelle raised her eyebrows, a gentle warning in her expression. "Of course," she said carefully.

"...right. Okay. Um, milk and sugar, you said?" he asked, turning back to the now-boiling kettle.

"I can get it if you like, Paul. It's a Saturday, shouldn't you be enjoying your weekend?"

The young man shrugged, pouring the water into the waiting teapot and closing the top. "I just want to make sure Tabitha's okay."

Michelle smiled a little, leaning against the doorframe and wrapping her arms around herself (as the air was a little chilly). "You really care about her, don't you?"

Paul replied without looking up from his busy work of retrieving mugs and sugar and milk for their tea. "She's a good boss. And... I dunno, I've been working for her for a while. It's not like we're friends, but I still care what happens to her, y'know? I think... no, nevermind," he said with a shake of his head.

"No, go on."

He hesitated, but it seemed his urge to share overrode his worries about being overheard by his boss. "I think," he said, dropping to a low murmur, "she acts angry but she's actually really sad. And that's a shame. I'd like to help her feel better, if I could."

Michelle nodded. "I would too," she said with a sad little smile.

"Well. Um. Do you want to bring her some tea?"

"Sure. I mean, unless you're keen to check on her - I'm not about to stop you," Michelle said, her tone genuine.

"No, that's okay. I'm just going to set up my computer out here and try to get some work done."

"Right," Michelle said with a nod. "Okay, I'll, um..." She stepped into the room to take the proffered mugs. "Thanks."

"Sure, no problem."

 

Tabitha was still sleeping when Michelle returned; she had pulled a pillow into her arms and was nestled against it, cheek pressed to the fine cotton.

Taking a seat back on 'her side' of the bed, Michelle placed her own mug at the bedside before leaning to rest a gentle hand on Tabitha's shoulder. "Morning..." she murmured quietly.

The other woman stirred, cracking open one eyelid to peer up at Michelle. Her expression quickly changed - to shock? surprise? - and she struggled to sit up, the pillow still clutched to her chest. "Um, hi."

Michelle's brow furrowed, just slightly, but she said nothing for now, just offering the mug. "Paul's here," she said. "He made some tea."

"Christ..." Tabitha accepted the mug, sipping at it slightly before straightening further and pushing the pillow into her lap. "I thought it was Saturday."

"Mm, it is," Michelle said with a slight smile. "But he's worried about you."

"I hope you told him I'm fine."

The other woman's lips twitched, eyebrows raising. "Tell him yourself," she chided gently. "I'm not your messenger."

Tabitha scowled, taking another sip of tea and then leaning to put her mug down. "Fine, I will. The last thing I need is for him to start treating me like some kind of invalid..."

"Hey, you don't need to get up yet if you don't want to," Michelle said, reaching to place a hand on Tabitha's knee to still her. "I'm kidding - I reassured Paul."

"Just after eight."

"Mm." Tabitha's eyes flicked to Michelle's hand on her knee, then back up to the other woman's face. "I should probably get up. I've neglected a lot of stuff over the last few days."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Not unless you fancy a drive to the countryside," Tabitha said, shifting and sliding her legs out of bed.

The other woman shrugged. "Don't have any other plans. I mean, unless you'd rather be by yourself..."

"It's fine..." Was it Michelle's imagination or did Tabitha sound almost purposefully breezy? "I'll just go talk to Paul and check in with him first."

"I'll need to head back home and meet you," Michelle said. "Can't go for a drive in the country in a party dress and heels."

"Sure. I can come by and get you when you're ready."

"Oh, all right..." Michelle nodded, standing herself, now. "I'll just... get dressed and head off just now," she said.

Tabitha nodded, picking up her mug once again. "All right."

 

"Look, please don't give me a hard time about this, okay? It's not what you think - I'm done working for her. This is... personal."

"I don't know if that's better or worse! You don't need to have a personal relationship with this woman, she's poisonous."

"Stu, please don't say that. It's not that simple."

"I'm pretty sure it is. Every time you go out of your way to do something nice for her, she either fires you or you end up in tears. How is that someone worth investing time and energy in?"

"Because I care about her, all right?" Michelle nearly yelled down the phone. "Because she's hurting," she said, more quietly, now, "and I care about her."

There was a long silence from the other end; the Taits didn't usually raise their voices at one another and she knew her brother would be pouting now. "Fine. Whatever. Do what you want. Just be careful what you expect in return."

"I'm not doing this for a reward."

"That's not what I meant, Mish - you'd like to think she'd return your friendship, but what if she doesn't? How will you feel then?"

"I'll feel..." Michelle sighed, sitting down on the arm of the nearest chair. "Look, this just isn't what I'm thinking about right now. She needs someone. And for now, it's going to be me."

"Right. Well, good luck with that. Hope it doesn't bite you in the arse."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Yeah, well. Like you'd listen either way. Poohead."

Michelle knew this was an invitation to lighten the mood again, to put them back on an even footing with one another. But she didn't feel light, and the part of her that would usually have a 'witty' rejoinder ready to reassure Stu just didn't seem to be functioning. "Right. Well, I'll see you later, hon."

"...yeah. Later."

Michelle hung up the phone, immediately moving to finish getting ready for the upcoming day. Her conversation with Stuart had dampened her mood considerably; after the evening she had spent with Tabitha it had been easy to forget or at least avoid thinking about some of their past history, preferring this new, milder, needier Tabitha to the spiky version that most saw.

She's not going to be an invalid forever. If you can only get through to her when she's having a breakdown that's not exactly a healthy basis for a friendship...

Still, she couldn't in good faith withdraw her offer of support now - the other woman obviously needed someone there, and as she had admitted to Stu, quite grudgingly, she did care for her.

She had little time to give the subject any more thought however as it wasn't long before her doorbell rang, heralding Tabitha's arrival.

The taller woman had obviously showered and was dressed casually in roughly the same outfit she'd been in when they'd met for the plane to Italy - cargos and a vest, a worn denim jacket over the top. "Hey," she greeted Michelle. "Ready to go?"

Michelle nodded, smiled. As I'll ever be...

 

It turned out the trip to the countryside was in fact a scouting mission for Tabitha's new restaurant - there were several locations she was considering and she wanted to see them all in person before bidding on any one building.

"Wow, so you're going ahead with it, then?" Michelle said as they entered the first potential location - a huge former-barn that appeared to have been only partially converted before being abandoned again.

"Well... yeah, pretty much. I've got the funding together, it's just a matter of ironing out the details now."

"That must be pretty exciting..."

Tabitha paused just inside the door, considering this. "I guess so. At the moment it's mostly just paperwork - once we get a building it'lll get more exciting."

"So are you going to move here, run the place yourself?" Michelle asked, looking around herself as they entered.

Tabitha didn't answer right away, focusing on her surroundings - stamping on the floorboards, peering out the windows. "I haven't decided," she replied eventually. "Maybe."

"Do you think you'd like that? Living out here, I mean."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They visited several more sites that day - a few closed-down pubs, an old farmhouse, a failing restaurant on the market. None of them seemed right, a fact which Michelle shared with Tabitha on their drive back into London, and the other woman had no choice but to agree.

"You need something... I don't know, they're all too... expected," Michelle said, leaning over against the side window and looking out. "I can see a restaurant in any one of those places - hell, one of them is one. I just can't see you in any of them. Y'know?"

"Mm. Maybe it was a stupid idea, looking out of town."

"No, no, I think you'll get there. Maybe just need something... a little more unusual."

"You think I'm unusual?" Tabitha didn't look away from the road but Michelle could tell by her voice she was intrigued.

"That's not what I said... but sure, I s'pose, a little. You're... unique. Individual."

"Everybody's individual."

"Not as individual as you." Michelle glanced to the side briefly. "You're really quite remarkable, you know. You've got... an energy." She frowned. "That sounds wanky, that's not what I meant. I meant the way you come alive when you cook."

"All decent cooks do," Tabitha said, shrugging off the compliment as if she couldn't quite bring herself to accept it. "You just need to watch more cookery shows."

"No, you're different," Michelle insisted.

"Hm," was all Tabitha said, and Michelle got the feeling she wasn't quite convinced.

"Anyway, I don't know, are there any... less conventional spaces?"

"A barn's pretty unconventional, don't you think?"

"Nah, everyone's converting barns these days."

"Well, there was one other place..."

Michelle glanced over again. "Yeh?"

"But it really is crazy. Even Paul said so."

"Even Paul? You say that like Paul's so out there usually..."

"He usually keeps quiet if he knows something's going to piss me off," Tabitha said with a roll of her eyes. "And I was pretty excited about this idea, but he said it was 'totally unfeasible'."

"Sounds perfect - take me there."

Tabitha turned the car around and drove in silence back towards 'the country', out through barren fields and rolling hills. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence; Tabitha seemed pensive but not upset or distraught. Obviously Michelle's company had been comforting, or at least not vexing.

Eventually they turned off the main road, following a winding path slowly uphill, past a ramshackle farmhouse and through the treeline to the top of the hill. There, just on the crest of the slope was a large but delicate-looking greenhouse, mostly intact save for a few broken panes near the ground.

"I just thought... well, it'd be a pain to refit. And a bitch to heat in the winter. It'd all need to be repaned in double-glazing at least," Tabitha mumbled almost shyly. "But can you imagine sitting inside, watching the sun go down as you eat?"

Michelle was staring, though she managed a nod. "I can," she said. Then, "It's perfect."

"Weird, you mean?"

"I mean what I said."

Tabitha glanced over, frowning slightly, though her expression softened as she saw there was no guile in Michelle's eyes. "Anyway. Do you want me to show you around?"

"I'd love it."

 

They emerged from the car and Tabitha began to show her around the property, growingg more animated as shhe did so. She described her plans to turn the greenhouse into a dining area, complete with planters lining the sides 'so people could see where their food came from'. The actual kitchen was a bit more difficult, but she had plans for that as well, surprisingly fleshed-out for what was obviously still a preliminary idea.

"I can't believe you let Paul talk you out of this," Michelle remarked with a grin as Tabitha walked them the length of the property, pointing out this and that feature, observing where they would have to alter this or that.

"I didn't 'let' him," Tabitha scowled. "And it wasn't just him. Everybody thinks this would be more effort than it's worth."

"Oh, it'll be fiine," Michelle said now with a wave of her hand. "I mean, sure, the glass'll need replaced and that's a big thing, but the ground level panelling and woodwork are all totally solid. Have you had it surveyed?"

"Not yet. But I've got the guy's number on speeddial..."

"Well, how can you know if it's feasible until you've had a survey?" Michelle said, with a slightly playful grin.

"I thought you were here to make sure I didn't do anything crazy," Tabitha replied, arching an eyebrow.

"I don't remember saying anything of the sort," the other woman replied, wandering along the side of the building, peering through the glass at the interior. "You're going to have to talk to an architect about acoustics," she said conversationally. "The arched roof is going to help, of course, but there are other ways to make sure the place doesn't sound like a train station - carefully placed beams, centre partitions, that sort of thing."

"Fuck me, I hadn't even thought about that..."

"You could have the bathrooms annexed off one side of the property, and the kitchen on the other, maybe?" Michelle went on now, standing back a bit. "And they need to match - I mean, I know that the kitchen can't have a glass roof obviously but you could have the stoves down the middle and windows round the sides, maybe? I know it'd be a nightmare keeping the windows unmisted but imagine how lovely it'd be to work that way..."

Tabitha was silent; when Michelle turned to look at her she was staring, not at the building but at Michelle herself. The slight woman smiled, a little hesitantly now. "What?"

"Is there anything you're not good at?" the taller woman asked, a little disbelievingly.

Michelle tipped her head to the side, her smile turning a little wry, and she shook her head. "I'm really just good at organising things. At seeing how things should... go. That's all."

"That's a pretty damn big chunk of things to be good at."

"I guess it's a pretty transferable skill..."

"Mm," Tabitha said, blinking. "I guess so."

The moment drew out, and Michelle's smile turned a little shy. Tabitha stared a moment longer before turning away, leaning forward to prod at part of the frame assessingly. "Well, have you seen enough? We should probably head back."

"Sure, if you like."

 

The drive back into town was made mostly in silence; Michelle couldn't tell if Tabitha was uncomfortable or just deeply involved in her own thoughts, spurred by what they had discussed on the hill and ideas for her future restaurant.

Still, on this occasion she opted not to break the silence, instead observing through her passenger window the metamorphosis from countryside into suburbs and then into the outskirts of London itself. Eventually they pulled into Michelle's neighbourhood, negotiating the narrow streets until they pulled up outside her building. Tabitha shifted, turning slightly to face the other woman then. "Here you are, I guess."

"Mm, I guess so..." Michelle smiled a little nervously now. "I'd say come in for a cuppa, but you'll never get parked..."

"That's all right. I need to get back, start making calls..."

"So... you're back... I mean, I don't have to follow you home and keep an eye on you?" Michelle said, only half jokingly.

"Oh, fuck off, Tait - if I needed a nursemaid I have Paul, remember?"

Strangely, there was something about the tone in which Tabitha said this that rendered it comforting, and Michelle felt herself breaking into a grin. "Gotcha. Paul can take the responsible duties and I'll stick with convincing you to spend small fortunes on pipe-dream gazebos. Check."

"You're going to be hell on my chequebook," Tabitha said with a smirk. "Now, get out of the car before I get a ticket for loitering."

It was with a wide grin that Michelle did as she was told, waving as Tabitha pulled off and left her on the pavement. Well. That pretty much couldn't have gone any better. Not only had Tabitha cheered up considerably - or at least as 'cheery' as the chef got - but they had spent nearly the whole day together without bickering, arguing or shouting once. What's more, they'd had fun. At least, Michelle thought they had - certainly she hadn't seen Tabitha that way before, except when she was cooking that is.

All in all the day had been nice, and Michelle found herself almost wishing they could do it again. Well, why not? I didn't just sign up for a day - and besides, she's going to have to go out there an awful lot once she starts redoing the place...

And so it was that Michelle's imagination, ever rich and active, began to work its magic now - maybe they'd even do some work on the place together - Tabitha seemed like the kind of person who could handle herself with a sander...

 

 

The next few weeks seemed to fly by - as good as her word, Tabitha called the surveyors almost immediately and within the week had put an offer on the property, which of course was quickly snapped up. The chef reported with glee Paul's reaction to hearing that plans for 'The Glass House' were to go ahead, and the two women chortled over their early-morning coffees before heading out to oversee renovations on both the buildings and the land.

There seemed to have been an unspoken agreement that Michelle was something of a partner in this new venture. When Tabitha had invited along she had at first been diplomatic in her advice or commentary, speaking only when asked for an opinion, but Tabitha seemed to be actively expecting her input, as though that was what she was there for - which, she realised after some thought, was probably how the other woman was justifying her presence to herself.

Slowly but surely, Michelle was learning how to be Tabitha's friend. She was realising, now, what she'd done wrong back at the beginning. She'd thought that Tabitha just needed someone to break through her barriers, to show her some open-hearted kindness, but she could see now that that had been far too much to process for a woman who'd never been offered anything that didn't come with some kind of contract or conditions attached.

What Tabitha needed, first and foremost, was companionship. She needed someone to just spend time with her, listen to her, talk to her. The fact that this was about as much of an emotional connection that the other woman could handle made her heart break a little when she thought about it, but mostly, these days, she didn't think about it. She was just there.

It wasn't always easy. The other woman was often spiky, seeming to pick arguments just for the sake of riling Michelle up without any aim to actually winning them. She also had her 'down' moments, which might last hours and keep her from communicating in anything but occasional grunts and dismissive shake of her head. Slowly but surely, however, she seemed to thaw, growing more comfortable around Michelle and in turn acting more open and friendly than she had ever seen her.

All the while, Michelle kept her eyes and ears open for all signs regarding the progress of Tabitha's father. They hadn't mentioned her family at all since that first night, but Michelle knew that it must be on the other woman's mind nevertheless. Occasionally she would check with Paul, who at least knew most of her incoming and outgoing calls, but even he didn't know anything further about the situation or what to do about it.

So she just kept doing what she was doing - being there, providing distractions, helping out. Heckling from the sidelines like always.

 

Spring was well and truly upon them, now, and the press was warming up again for the return of Tabitha for its Easter special. Laura had bowed to pressure from the execs and was hosting a party for the occasion - out of their purse, of course.

Laura had been in touch with Michelle and knew that the two women were currently getting along, had initially suggested another night catered by Tabitha herself - with Michelle's help, of course. "I was thinking, another one of those catering events, like New Year, but with Italian food this time, obviously. What do you think?"

But Michelle had been loathe to risk adding any stress to Tabitha's already rather full life, and had gently dissuaded her. As it was, they ended up in the spacious basement bar of [somewhere], a venue that was actually owned by one of Tabitha's competitor celebrity chefs, albeit one from the same network.

 

Michelle was late, of course. She swept in around an hour after even some of the more fashionable guests had arrrived, looking characteristically stunning in the green dress Tabitha recognised from 24a the night Michelle had dined there with her father. More of note, however, was the fact she was arm-in-arm with a guest - a pretty blonde girl who looked like she couldn't have been more than about twenty three.

Excusing herself from her current conversation - she hadn't really been paying attention anyway - she made her way across the room, feeling suddenly underdressed in her black trousers and black top, even though the low back showed more skin than some bathing suits.

"Hey, Tait, I see you finally made it," she said in as joking a tone as she could muster, smirking down at the other woman.

"Certainly did, Michelle replied with an easy smile. "Oh, this is Katie," she said then, quickly remembering her manners. "She's a very talented writer, no, shut up, hon, yes you are, this is Tabitha, of course."

"Hi," the chef said, nodding to the blonde. She felt her stomach drop and immediately felt her irritation rise - so what if Michelle had brought a date? Why wouldn't she?

Katie seemed to be a little unsure herself, though she held out her hand in greeting nevertheless. "It's great to finally meet you, er, Tabitha. I've really enjoyed the show this past series."

"Great. That's... great," Tabitha said with a nod and an attempt at a polite smile.

"Sadly she didn't cater tonight," Michelle explained to her plus-one, nodding toward the rows of canapés. "How is it?" she directed at Tabitha now. "Anything I should avoid?" she asked with amusement - it was highly unlikely that everything wasn't delightful, even without Tabitha having any involvement.

"Oh, it's all fine - don't attempt the white wine, though, it's acidic as hell," the chef told her. "I don't know where they were stroing it but it's not worth your time."

"Right, gin for me, red for you, then, I suppose," Michelle said with a grin at her companion.

"You Taits are always trying to get me drunk," Katie said with an amused shake of her head. "What's that about, hm? I'll get them," she added, then, unlinking her arm from Michelle's, though not, Tabitha couldn't help but notice, before giving her wrist a fond squeeze, and taking her leave with a polite nod to the chef.

That left the two women alone, though they both knew it was only moments before they would be swarmed. Tabitha cleared her throat. " So..."

"So!" Michelle replied with a slight grin. "How's the soiree going?" she asked. "Did I miss much?"

"Yeah, you know, fine... nothing interesting so far."

"I suppose Laura won't have made her usual little speech yet," the other woman mused. "Oh, you know she tried to get me to convince you to cater this at 24a? Did I mention?"

"Shit, really? God, that would've been a nightmare," Tabitha said, winkling her nose.

"No kidding. I figured you had enough on your plate."

"Mm. Well. Thanks." Tabitha offered Michelle a smile, wrapping her arms around herself in what the other woman was beginning to recognize as a self-conscious gesture.

Michelle caught the move, and glanced around herself briefly. "How're the patches working?" she asked quietly, obviously making sure she kept her tone nice and casual. "You doing all right, stress-wise?"

"Yeah... it's a bastard," Tabitha replied with a grimace. "But I haven't slipped up yet. Though God, I could really use one tonight..."

"Stay strong - you can do it!"

"You sound like a bloody motivational poster."

Michelle just grinned, stepping a little closer to pat Tabitha on the arm. "Just keep calm and carry on," she said.

"Oh fuck off." This had become a familiar, almost affectionate refrain.

"Mhm, you too, sweetheart. I'd better go mingle - I'll catch you later on, yeh?"

"If I don't bail early, sure."

"Oh, don't - I want to talk to you about the most amazing artist I met the other day - she does huge-scale mosaic work and I think you might be really interested in what she might be able to do for your floors..."

"Oh?" Tabitha asked, raising her eyebrows. "Okay, maybe I'll stick around."

Michelle grinned warmly, and Tabitha wondered whether she'd had a drink or two before she'd arrived. "Right," she said, "great."

Michelle soon moved off to mingle, linking back up with Katie, who seemed keen to stay close to the other woman, Tabitha noted with some annoyance. She was soon drawn into a conversation with a restaurant critic who had heard of her plans for a new establishment, and she didn't really stop to look around again until Laura stood up to make her speech.

"Okay, firstly, I'm delighted that you could all make it tonight, as are Tabitha, Michelle and Duncan I'm sure. The Easter specials mark for us the culmination of what's been a massive transformation in the way we make Tabitha in recent months. I'm not going to get into all the buzz 'cause you're heard it already I'm sure, but I would like to say how glad we've been to have your support through this - crew, board members, and our other supporters here tonight, thank you everyone."

Laura led them in a short round of polite but friendly applause before clearing her throat again. "I think I'd also be remiss if I didn't give an extra shout-out to the two women without whom none of this could have happened - it hasn't always been easy, but it's always been exciting, and I am so glad to have taken this journey with both of them. Everyone, Tabitha and Michelle."

The applause turned more boisterous and heartfelt and in spite of - or maybe because of - the fact that she was sure it was all for Michelle Tabitha found herself clapping harder herself, looking around for the other woman.

Eventually, she spotted her - although she wasn't with the crowd around the small raised platform on which Laura stood but was outside through the patio doors into the sunken little decking beer garden out the back of the restaurant. She was with Katie, and they were hugging, and it seemed clear to Tabitha that they weren't just hugging as friends or even the way one might on a casual date but with considerable passion - arms wrapped tightly around one another, their expressions positively joyful - they seemed completely oblivious to what was going on inside in their happiness. Tabitha wanted to look away, but she found herself transfixed as they parted, hands clasped between them, before Michelle seemed to decide that this wasn't enough and pulled the younger woman back into another tight embrace, kissing her on the cheek.

She wasn't the only one to notice this, of course; as the applause drew out several other members of the crowd spotted Michelle and Katie and began to cheer and catcall loudly. Her stomach plummeting past her knees, Tabitha couldn't wait to see what the embrace had preceded, and she suddenly whirled away, heading for the bathroom as fast as her legs would carry her.

She wasn't sure what upset her more - the fact that Michelle was obviously involved with this woman, obviously so taken with her that she would miss a moment in the spotlight - a moment that by most reckoning should have been theirs together - to celebrate privately with Katie instead, or the fact that Michelle had never shared anything about her in the weeks that they had spent together, not even her name let alone the place she obviously held in her heart.

 

"I can't believe you ducked out of my speech! When I was speeching about you!"

Michelle just grinned, shaking her head. "Some things in life are more important," she said, still standing side by side and hand in hand with Katie, who still looked too happy to speak. "Guess what my reprobate brother left in Katie's make-up bag before sending her out here with me instead of coming along?"

"Seriously? Oh my God, that is either the sweetest or the laziest thing I've ever heard! Congratulations, sweetie!" Laura said with a grin.

"Thank you!" Katie almost squeaked.

"He scribbled his proposal on a post-it note and stuck it to the box - can you believe that?" Michelle said, "a post-it - I'm going t- Oh shit..."

Both Laura and Katie cast their eyes in the direction Michelle was looking as her whole countenance shifted from one of joy and amusement to one of complete dread. It didn't take long to see what had caught her attention. Paul, who it seemed had just re-entered the room from the garden outside, was casting his gaze around urgently, presumably looking for Tabitha, his face drawn and pale.

Tabitha herself seemed to be nowhere to be seen, and so when Paul's eyes alit on Michelle he made for her instead - Michelle herself had already broken away from Katie's side and was making her way through the crowd toward him, ignoring the people who tried to halt her along her path to greet or congratulate her.

"I tried calling," he babbled before they were even close enough to talk without anyone else overhearing them. "But she's not picking up - I think she might have left her mobile in her coat. I really need to talk to her, where is she?"

"Haven't seen her since the speech," Michelle said. "Might be in the loo. Is this her dad? Is he dead?" she asked matter-of-factly.

He paused for a second, just staring, before he managed to nod. "Yeah."

Michelle nodded, frowning. "Okay. All right, okay. Look, um... I'll check the loo, I'll find her - get her stuff, yeh?"

"...okay. Yeah. Sure." Paul bit his lip and hurried off, obviously glad of a task to do.

 

"Tabitha?" Tabitha, you in here?" Michelle's voice was urgent, her tone serious, those clacky heels echoing on the tiled restroom floor.

She heard a sniff from one of the stalls and the tearing of toilet paper, and a moment later the other woman spoke. "What?"

Brow furrowing, Michelle headed immediately for the stall in question, hovering at the door. "Are... you okay, hon?" Had the hospital got through to her after all? Was Paul mistaken; did she already know?

There was a flush from inside and almost immediately Tabitha opened the door, nearly running into Michelle as she stepped out of the stall. "I'm fine," she said brusquely, heading for the sink.

"Listen, could you come with me to one of the private lounges?" Michelle asked now, quite positive that Tabitha would not want to be caught in public when she heard this news. "We really need to talk..."

"No, I don't think we do," Tabitha replied with a shake of her head. "I have to get back to the party."

"What? I..." Michelle processed this for a second - was Tabitha angry with her? "Tabitha, I don't know what... this isn't anything to do with you and me, I really need to talk to you, alone. Please."

"We're alone here. Just tell me, Tait, so I can get on with my life." Tabitha finished washing her hands and dried them briskly on a towel, then turned to face Michelle. She looked impatient.

This was not going well. Michelle had been sure that this would be better coming from her, easier, but something had happened since they'd last spoken, it seemed, because this Tabitha was not like the one she'd come to know in the past weeks. This was the closed-off, unfriendly Tabitha from before. "No, we should go sit down somewhere, w-"

"Fuck off, Tait, either spit it out or get the hell out of my face!"

Michelle's mouth dropped open a little, and she found herself stuttering slightly, her stomach twisting at how much worse she was, somehow, making this - how could she be the person to break such bad news when Tabitha clearly wanted nothing to do with her?

Eventually, just as Tabitha tired of waiting and began to push past her, Michelle caught her arm. "Paul needs to see you," she said. "Now." Shit, he isn't going to realise I haven't told her, that doesn't work. She took a deep breath, "He got a phone-call, he-"

"Was it the hospital?" Where Tabitha had been stiff before, resisting, she was now almost limp, her face blank.

With a ragged sigh, Michelle nodded. "I-I'm sorry," she said, "I was trying to..." She shook her head. "I didn't want to just tell you in here, like this."

"He's dead."

There was really nothing Michelle could say to this. Again, she just nodded. Blindly Tabitha pushed past Michelle, catching her off-guard and emerging out into the busy party once again. She stumbled for the door, paying no heed to the half-dozen people who tried to stop her or flag her down.

Michelle was after her in a moment, following her out and into the foyer where Paul was just emerging from the cloakroom with her things.

"I'm leaving," Tabitha said tonelessly, reaching for her coat and bag. "Tell Laura I had to go.

"Tabitha, wait, let me come with you - I'll drive you, wherever you need to go I-"

"Fuck off, Tait." Her jaw set, Tabitha swung her coat on and dug her keys out of her bag before pushing towards the door.

 

And so it was that Katie and Laura emerged from the party together, looking rather confused, a few moments later, to find Michelle sitting at the bottom of the steps that led up to the exit, both hands pressed over her face as she tried desperately to prevent herself from bursting into tears there and then.

"Hey, hey, hey, what's the matter here?" Laura asked, moving to sit next to Michelle immediately. "What happened?"

But Michelle just shook her head, sucking in a deep breath and sitting up, dropping her hands into her lap, where they immediately curled into fists. "I fucked up," she said. "I don't know how, but I've fucked up somehow just _exactly_ when she needs me most and-" She shook her head, looking away and closing her eyes briefly.

"Hey, you didn't fuck up, you didn't do anything wrong," Laura replied, putting a hand on Michelle's back. "Where'd she go?"

"Don't know. Home? I... Paul might be with her but... I don't know. Shit..."

"Hey, hey, deep breath, honey. I'm sure everything's okay - Tabs isn't great with parties, she usually leaves early."

But Michelle shook her head. "This isn't about that."

"What's it about, then? Did you guys argue?" Laura asked.

"I thought you two were getting along?" Katie added, frowning.

"I did too," Michelle said, words spilling out of her now in a rush, "but there's bad news, private stuff, and when I went to find her she just didn't want anything to do with me, didn't want to look at me - I was trying to help I thought it'd be better if it was me, but I made it worse."

"If it was bad news it probably wasn't your fault, I'm sure she was just upset. Give her time, she'll calm down..."

"No, you're not listening," Michelle said, pushing to her feet, now, suddenly. "She didn't even want to talk to me - before I'd said a word she wanted to be out of my sight. I have to find her." She made her way purposefully toward the cloakroom, now, the slight sway to her step betraying that she was perhaps not fuelled by determination alone.

Laura jumped up, and together she and Katie rushed to grab Michelle and slow her down. "Michelle, hold on, don't you just want to let things cool off for a bit first?"

"It's not about that, I don't need to make it up with her, I just need to be there - there's no one else. Even if she hates me right now I'm still the best she's got."

"Well... if you think that's a good idea..."

"I don't know what else to do."

"You said Paul was with her, I'm sure she'll be okay."

"She's not okay," Michelle said, hunched now over her own bag as she hunted for her phone. "She's messed up, she's hurting, she needs help and I don't know what she'll do if I don't find her," she said, pressing a couple of buttons on the phone and holding it up to her ear. "I have no idea if Paul's caught up to her and even if he has he hasn't got the balls to actually take control... Paul? Shit, this line's terrible... Paul, can you hear me okay? Are you with her?"

Whatever the response, it apparently didn't please Michelle, as she continued to struggle into her coat one-handed.

"Well, do you know where she'd've gone? Actually, never mind, I think I know..." Hanging up without another word, Michelle dropped her phone back in her bag and pulled her coat on properly before slinging it over her shoulder. "I have to go," she directed at Laura and Katie, about to sweep past them before she seemed to catch herself, and turned back to the younger woman, pulling her into a sudden fierce hug. "I'm so happy for you," she said as she pulled back. "And I'm so sorry that I'm letting my shit get in the way tonight. I promise you that I'll make it up to you and Stu, okay? I promise."

And then, turning on her heel, she almost ran up the stairs toward the exit.

 

The taxi driver had made her describe where she wanted to go three times, and had still nearly refused to take her there, despite the fact that Michelle was now stone cold sober, at least in countenance. Only several banknotes up front had convinced him to do as he was asked.

Even then, of course, he wouldn't drive that last stretch of dirt track - though he did offer to wait for her. Politely declining, Michelle pulled her flats out of her bag and changed into them before exiting the cab and starting up the muddy stretch of trail, lighting the way with her phone.

She heard the breaking glass first.

It wasn't followed by the normal hoots and cheers that most vandals made on a spree, just a slight pause and the sound of another pane cracking and splintering. As she neared the structure she could make out Tabitha, lit by the headlamps of her car, stooping to retrieve another brick and hefting it for the throw. As Michelle caught sight of her, the last of her wavering self-control departed and she broke into a run, not stopping even when one of her shoes slipped off in the mud, not stopping until she'd reached the other woman and had grabbed onto her arm, almost desperately.

Tabitha jumped, nearly dropping the brick, though she managed to keep hold of it at the last minute. "Jesus! What the hell are you doing here, Tait?"

"I..." Anything Michelle could say to this seemed both obvious and stupid, and she found herself just shaking her head. "Are you okay?" she asked now, lamely. Of course she wasn't okay.

The other woman snorted and shook off her hand, testing the weight of the brick once more. "Don't be stupid. You're not stupid."

"Okay, okay, I just. Look at me, please, can I just-" Michelle reached for the hand with the brick in it now, and was roughly pushed aside moments before Tabitha drew her arm back and heaved the missile at the waiting building. It hit truly and shattered another window - there were now at least a half dozen broken panes, like gaps in a grimace staring out at them.

"Tabitha, please," Michelle said now, reaching for her again as she began to bend again to search for something else to throw. She wouldn't let the other woman shrug her off, this time, and they tussled briefly before Michelle drew her up, hands clasped around her wrists.

"I wanted to be alone," Tabitha said then in that same flat, emotionless voice. "Why couldn't you leave me alone?"

"Because I can't, all right?" Michelle said determinedly. "I'm here. Whether you like it or not. Tabitha I don't know how I hurt you tonight, but please, please don't push me away right now. You know I can help. Let me help, please."

"You can't help," Tabitha protested, gritting her teeh and trying to pull away from Michelle, who still hung on doggedly. "Nothing you can do is going to change anything."

"But I can be there with you. Whatever it is you need, I can be there. I'll do anything - well, anything except leave you alone."

Tabitha grit her teeth. "Then let. Me. Go."

Michelle hesitated, her big brown eyes almost black in the dim light. Then she did let go, and stepped back slightly.

"Don't touch me like that," Tabitha all but hissed, immediately stooping to pick up another brick. She held it in her hands as if being reassured by its weight before holding it out to Michelle. "Now take this."

"Don't touch you? I don't... no, I'm not taking that. I can't-"

"Take it, or get out of here."

Swallowing back the lump in her throat, Michelle reached out a trembling hand for the brick. It was heavy in her hand, rough and wet - it was beginning to rain again now and the damp ground had long since soaked through her stockinged foot and was well on its way to soaking through the shod one too.

Seemingly satisfied, Tabitha turned away to claim a brick of her own. As she straightened up she fixed her gaze once again on Michelle. "Now throw it."

"Tabitha, I-"

"Throw the goddamn brick!"

Reacting on instinct to Tabitha's order rather than of her own volition, Michelle turned and launched the brick into the air. It fell mostly short of the glasshouse, ricocheting off one of the bottom window frames and skittering off across the ground. It was followed shortly by Tabitha's own throw, which hit one of the roofing panes and fell through in a shower of glass. Michelle watched it fall, almost not noticing as Tabitha turned away suddenly, wrapping her arms tightly around herself, but when she did she turned to her again immediately, reaching for her shoulders.

"Don't," Tabitha managed, shrugging her shoulders as she tried to elude Michelle's touch.

"Please," Michelle said now, her voice trembling. "I don't understand. I don't know what I've done. I know this isn't about me, I know th-"

"Stop it! Just stop! Stop talking, stop asking questions, stop trying to figure out what's wrong, just stop." The last word was almost a sob. "Please. I can't."

Michelle did, then, releasing the other woman's shoulders, too, letting her hands fall by her sides as she fought the tears that threatened to spill over onto her cheeks. This is not about you. Whatever it is you've done, there are bigger things right now. This is not about you.

"Just... tell me what to do."

But Tabitha just shook her head, then sat down heavily on one of the stacked pallets that had been left by the builders. "You should go. I'm sure Katie is missing you."

"Katie..." The realisation hit Michelle like a ton of bricks. "Katie's my brother's girlfriend," she said gently, daring to approach a little. "Well, fiancée, as of tonight."

"What?" Tabitha's face contorted as she thought back to the night's events, what she had seen and what she had assumed. "She's engaged to your brother?"

Michelle nodded, her urge to explain herself rendering her calm again, now, her voice steadier. "You thought she and I were involved. That I had a girlfriend and I'd never told you. That's why you were angry with me?"

"I... yes." Tabitha nodded numbly.

"Oh, Jesus..." Michelle was in front of Tabitha in moments, kneeling on the ground looking up at her, apparently oblivious to or not caring of the fact that she was almost certainly ruining her dress beyond repair. "I would never have kept someone important from you, I swear. You've heard me talk about Katie loads - she's Kathryn Kerr - the writer I keep talking about, the one who wrote Stu's film." She smiled weakly. "There's no one in my life you haven't heard about until you were bored," she said. "I tell you everything - more than you ever want or need to know, usually. Tabitha. I don't know what it says about either of us, but you are the most important person in my life. You're my best friend, and I love you." Michelle only realised as she said this how much she meant it. She is my best friend. And I'm in love with her. Fuck, I'm in love with her...

It was hard to tell what exactly caused the look of shock on Tabitha's face, but it didn't budge as she stared down at Michelle through the rain and the dark. "Oh," she said, swallowing heavily. Then, "You don't have to say that because my father died, I--"

"I am so sorry that your father died," Michelle cut in, "but this isn't because of that. I try to hold back with you, I try not to overdo it, to be over-affectionate or to bare too much to you because I know it made you uncomfortable before, but you must know how amazing it's been getting to know you - properly know you - these past few weeks. You're a remarkable person, and I feel so lucky to have been let in on that, even just a little bit. I'm sorry if I didn't make that clear enough before."

"Jesus." The other woman reached up to wipe a palm across her cheeks, blotting away the rain that had smudged her makeup. "What are you like?" she asked thickly, shaking her head. "Get out of the mud, you idiot."

Relief flowed through Michelle in a sudden wave as she processed the other woman's words, and she did move, though rather than standing she actually just pushed herself up a little to wrap her arms around Tabitha in the first hug she'd given her since that night back in her darkened, tobacco-scented bedroom what seemed forever ago.

Just as before, the other woman sat stiffly in her grasp, relaxing minutely as the embrace continued. After a minute she lifted her own arms, winding them loosely about Michelle's waist and returning the hug at last.

"I'm so sorry," Michelle murmured quietly. "I try not to be selfish, not to push, but I've never done this before."

"I don't even know what 'this' is," Tabitha replied in a low voice. "So I doubt you can be worse at it than me."

Michelle didn't answer, just pulled back a little to look up at Tabitha, hand finding the tangle of damp hair at the nape of the taller woman's neck. She stared for a long moment, as though trying to decipher the other woman's thoughts. When the urge to kiss her became almost unbearable, she reluctantly let go, pulled back, stood up. "Can you give me a lift, d'you think?" Then, as she shifted her feet, "Also, maybe to A and E? I think I stepped on a piece of glass at some point there." A pause. Her voice still very calm, but a little smaller: "It might be quite deep, actually." And at that moment, as though it was this realisation and not the blood loss she hadn't noticed that caused it, Michelle fainted.

 

Michelle was fine in the end, although the cut was indeed quite deep, requiring several stitches, and she had been kept overnight for observation until the doctors were assured the bloodloss wasn't serious enough to warrant any further action. What had been most shocking, however, was the fact that Tabitha Harding had stayed by her side the entire time, guarding her so fiercely that she didn't even step away to fix the mess that was her hair or her bedraggled clothes until Stuart and Katie showed up. They each gave her a strange look, though for very different reasons, and hurriedly she excused herself, though it seemed unlikely that she would be allowed back in as visitor's hours were long past and it had only been her vehemence and her minor celebrity status that had gotten her that far anyway.

Michelle was rather distant, dazed, almost, during the whole thing, not just from the bloodloss but from the sudden world of confusing new emotions that had opened up for her.

"My God, Mish, are you all right?" Stuart demanded as he arrived at his sister's bedside, his face a picture of concern. "What the hell happened?"

"I'm fine, I'm... fine." Michelle shook her head, raising herself up a little to meet him part way as he leaned to kiss her cheek. "I just stepped on a piece of glass."

"How, exactly? Katie said you were at the party and then you just ran off, and the next thing anybody knows you're in hospital..."

"Oh, that's not important... I was outside, my shoe came off..." Michelle waved her hand dismissively.

Stuart narrowed his eyes suspiciously but decided not to press the issue any further right then. "The doctor said you're going to be fine, though you might have to wear something on your foot until the stitches come out."

"Yeah, I know. Just as well I was due a break, huh?"

"You were due a break months ago. You've been running yourself so ragged with this whole restaurant thing, frankly it's amazing something bad hasn't happened sooner."

"Oh, I mean. I expect I'll still be able to help out with that - I'm just tagging along for the ride on that one, really..."

"Mish. You need a holiday," he said seriously. "Don't make me steal your credit card and book you one. Or worse, tell Mum and Dad."

"Stu would you stop trying to baby me, it doesn't work this way round," Michelle said with a scowl that was only half playful. "I have... stuff I need to do, okay? Stuff I want to do."

"Okay, fine, whatever. But I'm going to be keeping an eye on you - you better take it easy."

"I will. I promise. Oh, and Stu?"

Michelle was fine in the end, although the cut was indeed quite deep, requiring several stitches, and she had been kept overnight for observation until the doctors were assured the bloodloss wasn't serious enough to warrant any further action. What had been most shocking, however, was the fact that Tabitha Harding had stayed by her side the entire time, guarding her so fiercely that she didn't even step away to fix the mess that was her hair or her bedraggled clothes until Stuart and Katie showed up. They each gave her a strange look, though for very different reasons, and hurriedly she excused herself, though it seemed unlikely that she would be allowed back in as visitor's hours were long past and it had only been her vehemence and her minor celebrity status that had gotten her that far anyway.

Michelle was rather distant, dazed, almost, during the whole thing, not just from the bloodloss but from the sudden world of confusing new emotions that had opened up for her.

"My God, Mish, are you all right?" Stuart demanded as he arrived at his sister's bedside, his face a picture of concern. "What the hell happened?"

"I'm fine, I'm... fine." Michelle shook her head, raising herself up a little to meet him part way as he leaned to kiss her cheek. "I just stepped on a piece of glass."

"How, exactly? Katie said you were at the party and then you just ran off, and the next thing anybody knows you're in hospital..."

"Oh, that's not important... I was outside, my shoe came off..." Michelle waved her hand dismissively.

Stuart narrowed his eyes suspiciously but decided not to press the issue any further right then. "The doctor said you're going to be fine, though you might have to wear something on your foot until the stitches come out."

"Yeah, I know. Just as well I was due a break, huh?"

"You were due a break months ago. You've been running yourself so ragged with this whole restaurant thing, frankly it's amazing something bad hasn't happened sooner."

"Oh, I mean. I expect I'll still be able to help out with that - I'm just tagging along for the ride on that one, really..."

"Mish. You need a holiday," he said seriously. "Don't make me steal your credit card and book you one. Or worse, tell Mum and Dad."

"Stu would you stop trying to baby me, it doesn't work this way round," Michelle said with a scowl that was only half playful. "I have... stuff I need to do, okay? Stuff I want to do."

"Okay, fine, whatever. But I'm going to be keeping an eye on you - you better take it easy."

"I will. I promise. Oh, and Stu?"

"Uh huh?"

"A post-it note? Really?"

Face splitting into a grin, her brother gave a shrug. "She said yes, didn't she?"

"Oh yeah, how did you find that out? Was it written on a scrap of receipt stuck to the fridge?"

"Hah hah, very funny. Listen - maybe one day you'll understand... when it's the right person it doesn't need to be some big movie moment."

Michelle prayed that the flicker she felt at Stuart's words wouldn't show on her face or, that if they did, Stuart would miss it. He didn't.

Luckily, just then Katie re-entered the room, immediately approaching Michelle's bedside and sliding an arm around his waist. "I think they're about to kick us out - are you going to be all right here, Michelle?"

"I'll be fine, you two go home, have a good night's sleep, okay? Or whatever it is that you don't please for the love of Christ don't tell me."

The happy couple laughed and exchanged a private glance; a moment later Stuart cleared his throat and looked back at Michelle, blushing slightly. "I'll come get you in the morning with some clean clothes. Get some sleep, sis."

"I'll see what I can do."

 

The face she saw the next morning when she awoke, however, was not her brother's. Tabitha had folded herself into one of the uncomfortable-looking chairs at Michelle's bedside as was flipping through a well-worn cooking magazine and sipping coffee out of a cardboard cup.

"Hey you," she murmured, her voice surprisingly hoarse, perhaps due to the dry air in the hospital. "Those are for the patients. You'll use all the words up."

The other looked up quickly, smirking. "Yeah, well, most of it's bullshit anyway. They should be thanking me." She paused and then leaned forward slightly in the chair. "You feeling okay?"

"I'm fine," Michelle said, pushing to a sitting position. "What about you?" she seemed more keen to know.

"I'm fine. Just worried about you. When you fainted last night, Jesus... and then there was all the blood. I'm glad I didn't get stopped on the way to the hospital, they would've thought I was a serial killer or something."

"I'm totally okay, really - I just faint easily, not enough blood in me to lose," Michelle said with a grin. "It's my own stupid fault for running around in the dark in stupid shoes."

Tabitha's expression darkened. "No, it wasn't, it was mine. I shouldn't have been such an idiot."

"What? Oh, sweetheart, no..." Michelle's brow furrowed and she leant forward a little, reaching out toward Tabitha, though her hand stopped short, resting on the bed. "I'm responsible for my own actions, okay? This is not your fault."

But Tabitha merely shook her head, reaching to give Michelle's hand a brief awkward squeeze. "I'm just glad you're all right. Are they going to discharge you today?"

"They'd bloody better. I think I have to get a rocky foot thing, though, so that'll be stylish."

"Wow, that'll go great with all your lovely dresses..."

"It'll be a new trend."

"Mm. Speaking of dresses, I called Suze - she's going to bring you a change of clothes before I take you home. Your dress didn't survive you rolling around in the mud and then bleeding on it."

"Oh, right, thanks, I..." Michelle grinned, shaking her head. "I didn't even think about it."

"Must be the blood loss," Tabitha snorted, rolling up the magazine and tossing it aside. "I'm going to let them know you're up."

"Hm, thanks - tell them I want to check out, yeh? No reason I should be clogging up a bed in here."

"All right." Tabitha paused by the bedside, looking down at Michelle with an unreadable expression on her features for a moment. Then she was gone, no doubt off to intimidate a doctor into releasing Michelle so she could go home.

 

Michelle would have been perfectly happy to get a taxi home, of course, but Tabitha had insisted on driving her. This time, Michelle had in turn insisted that she park and come in for a coffee after dropping her off. It seemed the other woman had intentions beyond coffee, however, as she unloaded two canvas shopping bags full of food from the back of her car before following Michelle inside.

"I'm not an invalid," she had protested, "And Sainsbury's does deliver, you know." But Tabitha smirked and shook her head, shooing the other woman towards the door.

"Sainsbury's doesn't cook. At least, not like me."

The hospital food had been uninspiring and Michelle found that she was quite hungry, which was fortunate as it seemed Tabitha was intent on preparing her a feast. From Michelle's modest kitchen issued a stream of dishes - perfectly fluffy omelettes with spinach 'for the extra iron', crispy fried potato pancakes, a fruit salad with a tangy dressing and fresh strong coffee with cream and sugar.

"You really didn't have to do this," Michelle said as Tabitha placed down their plates, taking a seat opposite her at her small dining table.

"Shut up and eat your breakfast," Tabitha said gruffly; Michelle could tell that there was more she wanted to say but couldn't, and so she did as she was told, lifting her fork and digging into her food with gusto.

This seemed to satisfy the other woman, who also began to eat, though more slowly and reservadly than Michelle. The food was divine, and she found herself wondering not for the first time if Tabitha ever cooked outside of the restaurant - the number of takeaway menus in her spotless kitchen seemed to say otherwise.

"So, um..." Michelle began, clearing her throat as Tabitha put down her fork for the last time. "We don't have to talk. About anything - last night, your-... anything you don't want to, that's fine. And I know it's not really your... thing... as a general rule. But I want you to know that if you wanted to, if there was anything we needed to clear up, I can do that. If ever you want to."

Tabitha hesitated, then opened her mouth to reply only to be interrupted by the buzz of her mobile. She frowned and plucked the phone from her pockets, flicking her eyes up to Michelle's after checking the screen. "It's Paul. I'll just get rid of him."

At the other woman's affirmative nod she put the phone to her ear, leaning back slightly in her chair. "Yeah, Paul, what is it? Yeah? What about it?" Then she gave a snort and rolled her eyes. "Right. Well, sure, see if the insurance'll cover it - I'll sign off on a claim this afternoon if you put it together." Another pause and then, "Yes, I'm fine. I'm with Michelle right now, we're eating breakfast. Yeah. Okay, see you later then."

Tabitha set down her phone and shot a smirk across the table at Michelle. "Apparently some 'hooligans' had a bit of fun with the Glass House last night."

Michelle raised her eyebrows, smirking slightly. "You're planning to commit insurance fraud, then?"

"Don't tell me you're planning on ratting me out..."

"I am complicit... but weren't all those windows slated for replacement?"

"Do you know how expensive starting up a restaurant is?" Tabitha asked, arching an eyebrow.

Michelle chuckled. "Wow, criminal mastermind."

"Hey, it's not liked I planned it that way," Tabitha said, shifting uncomfortably. She frowned at her plate for a moment before picking up her phone and beginning to type out a text on it.

Michelle just watched her in silence, though after a moment she began to gather their plates together, leaning across for Tabitha's.

The other woman finished her text and jabbed 'send', dropping her phone with a clatter to the table. She sat, clenching her jaw, for a moment and then let out a long sigh through her nostrils, gathering up their forks and knives. "I'll help."

"Nono, it's okay," Michelle said, although she didn't stop Tabitha from taking over the clearing away of the dishes - although she wasn't in a great deal of pain her surgical shoe hadn't left her terribly mobile.

Tabitha soon cleared the plates away, tidying the kitchen a bit and putting away the rest of the groceries before returning to top up their coffees. Her phone had buzzed again with an incoming text but she didn't bother to check it before shoving it back in her pocket.

"Nothing important?" Michelle asked, raising her eyebrows - she was one of the types of people who could never resist checking a text.

"Probably just Paul. D'you need more sugar?"

"No, this is perfect, thanks," Michelle said with a slightly nervous smile. Had they missed their chance to talk? She could hardly bring it back up if Tabitha wanted to let the moment pass...

The other woman took her time topping up her coffee with cream, fussing with the exact amounts before finally taking a sip. "You probably think I went a little bit crazy last night," she remarked as she put her mug down, glancing up a Michelle. "After you saw me out there."

Michelle just shrugged, shook her head. "You wanted to break things. That's not that crazy. If I'm honest I was less scared last night than I was back in your bedroom that time."

"You were scared then? Why?"

"I... don't know. I just. You're... not that person. You throwing bricks at your own windows... that made sense to me. You hiding out was..." Michelle sighed, shook her head again. "I don't know."

"Huh." Tabitha frowned thoughtfully. Then, "I didn't mean to scare you. I don't really know what I was thinking."

"It's okay. I'm just sorry that I made things worse. Last night, I mean. I should've thought..."

"It's fine. I know you were trying to help. I knew then. I just... couldn't quite make myself believe it. And I was just caught up... I had this urge, I needed to break something, hurt something of mine - I thought it would make me feel better, I thought it would help me understand..." Tabitha's voice, which had grown tighter and tighter, now threatened to give out altogether and she swallowed, taking a deep, shaking breath. "But it didn't. It was stupid. Pointless. And it hurt you."

"Shh, I'm fine," Michelle said, making a face. "Really. I'm just glad that we're here. Together, I mean. I thought yesterday that I'd somehow fucked everything up for good."

"Only I get to do that," Tabitha replied with a grim smile.

"You never will with me," Michelle said determinedly.

"Yeah. We'll see."

"Hey, look at me," the other woman said now, leaning across the table to find Tabitha's hand with her own. "I promise, okay? You will never run out of chances with me."

The other woman stared at her for a moment, lips pressed together tightly. Then she seemed to rouse from a daze, blinking and shaking her head. "Okay, enough of this sappy stuff. D'you need help with anything else?"

"I'm fine, really, I just need t- shit..."

"What?" asked Tabitha, looking alarmed. "What is it?"

"Oh, I just... Stu was going to come get me this morning... I'd better call him..."

 

"Yeah, thanks, I figured that out when I got there and you weren't there anymore. Thanks for the update."

"I'm so, so sorry - I think I was still just so out of it..."

"Sure." Stuart was being short, which meant he was annoyed. "You sound fine now."

"Well, I've got home and had something to eat now. Stu, I really am sorry I forgot to call. I got sort of... swept off my feet. So to speak." Michelle glanced across to her kitchen area at this, where on the other side of the stylish breakfast bar, Tabitha was clearing away the breakfast dishes.

"You're with her, aren't you? Tabitha."

"Mhm?" Michelle tried to answer in a casual tone.

"Michelle, you've been acting so different lately - I don't think you even realize it. What are you doing?"

"Stu, can we talk about this later?"

"I wanted to talk about it on the way home."

"Well, look, we still can, okay? Just... not right now."

He blew out a sigh and the line crackled. "Fine, whatever."

"Stu... be happy, okay? You just got engaged. Everyone is fine. I'm really sorry but please don't let me being crap ruin your day, all right? Go do something fun with that gorgeous girl of yours."

"Mm. Mum and Dad are going to call later to check on you. Don't ignore them."

"Oh, c-..." Michelle sighed, slumping a little where she sat. "I won't."

"Good." There was a long pause, but eventually her brother said "I guess I'll talk to you later."

"Hang on," Michelle said suddenly. "Um. Listen. It's not... whatever you're thinking... just don't, okay?"

"I don't know what to think anymore. But I saw you last night, Mish, that look in your eyes. Something's going on."

Michelle chewed her lower lip, glancing back toward Tabitha again briefly. "I know it is," she said, still keeping her tone even. "I do know that."

"Well, maybe when you figure it out you can share with the rest of us who have no clue."

"Mm. Speak to you soon, Stu."

"Bye, sis."

Tabitha had just about finished the dishes when Michelle put down her phone. She glanced up over the breakfast bar, drying her hands on a kitchen towel. "Everything okay in Tait-land?"

"Mm." Michelle frowned. "He's mad at me. But we'll be okay, he's just worried."

"You need me to go so you can call him back? Or I dunno, see him?"

"No, no, it's okay. We'll talk. It'll be fine. C'mere and sit down, yeh?"

Tabitha nodded, folding the towel and hanging it to dry before she made her way back to the table to sit.

Michelle shot her another of those slightly nervous smiles, smoothing her trousers as she carefully settled her feet, making sure to take care with her injured one.

"So... you should have enough food for the next couple days. If I forgot anything just let me know and I'll grab it when I'm out."

"If you think I'm just going to hide out in my flat for days..."

"The doctor said you're supposed to take it easy."

Michelle grinned. "You've met me, right? I'm not really the taking it easy type."

"Well, then, I guess I'm just going to have to chaffeur you around until that foot-thingie comes off."

"Tabitha, I usually get around on taxis and the tube," Michelle protested, even as internally she felt a flicker of delight at the idea that they would spend more time together, "so it's not like there's a big change..."

"You don't want to deal with idiots on the tube with that thing slowing you down," Tabitha said, making a face.

The smile that fell over Michelle's features at this was nothing short of fond, and the other woman hesitated for a moment, seemingly lost for words before she cleared her throat and pushed onward. "So it's settled. And obviously you'll be coming to the Glass House often enough anyway so it's not really inconvenient or anything."

"Oh, I see how it is - if I'm not taking it easy I'm helping you, eh?"

"Damn straight. If you're going to be stupid I might as well get something out of it," Tabitha said, leaning back in her chair.

"How admirably opportunistic."

"Well, it's not like I could very well do this without you."

"Oh, don't be silly - you're the one who's done all this before."

"Yeah, but this is different," Tabitha said with a shake of her head.

"I don't believe for a second that you couldn't do it without my help," Michelle said. "But I'm flattered nevertheless."

"Mm." The other woman merely raised her eyebrows briefly before shrugging and sitting forward once again. "So... what now?"

"Now..." Michelle shrugged. "Usually I'd do some reading. I get sent a lot of pitches on spec and I try to put some time aside every week to look at them."

"Right. Well, uh, I guess I should let you get on with that..."

"Um. I s'pose so - I mean..." Michelle hesitated, and nodded. You definitely need some time to think. Alone. "It's important I take time out to look at stuff. I'll... see you soon though?"

"Right. I mean yeah, sure. Just... give me a call, I guess." With that, Tabitha pushed herself up, standing over Michelle and shifting from foot to foot. After a long pause she reached out, awkwardly placing a hand on the other woman's hair. Almost as soon as she had done that she pulled back, stepping away and dropping her hand to her side. "Be careful, yeah?"

Michelle opened her mouth to reply, but found that none was forthcoming. Eventually she just nodded, smiling, pushing to her feet to show Tabitha out, and before a minute had passed she was on her own again.

 

 

When Tabitha arrived back at her flat, she wasn't surprised in the slightest to find Paul there, sitting on the couch tapping nervously away on his little netbook.

"You look worried," she commented on her way into the kitchen to put the kettle on. "What's wrong?"

"What? I... Oh, um..." Paul stood, following her through, looking rather bemused. "Are you... How are you? How's Michelle? What happened?"

"She's fine. She cut her foot, the doctor put some stitches in, she's back home now... everything's fine."

"She... how did that happen?"

"Does it matter? If she calls, by the way, I want you to put her through to me no matter what's going on."

"...Okay..." Paul blinked, apparently realising he was sounding a little less formal than usual as he cleared his throat and tried again. "I'll do that," he said, a little more decisively.

"Thank you. Tea?" Tabitha asked, opening the cupboard to pull out a mug.

"Oh, um, no thanks - but I can make it, I should-"

"Don't be ridiculous. You should get back to whatever you were doing before I interrupted. Oh, and you got my text about the insurance, right?"

"Yes, I got it - I replied, but I don't understand, why wouldn't you want to file the claim?"

"All those windows are due to be replaced anyway. It'll just delay things if we try to do it this way and I'd like to keep going as quick as we can."

"Oh. Um, okay, I guess that makes sense," Paul said, his curious expression clearing a little.

"Mm, good."

"So I should... get going. I mean, unless you need me for anything..."

"No, that's fine," Tabitha said with a shake of her head. "You can go."

The young man packed up his netbook and bag and took his leave, and Tabitha was finally alone with just her thoughts for company.

 

She took her tea to her office, switching her computer off standby and settling down to read through her latest emails. Almost as soon as she attempted this, however, her mind began to wander, veering away from planning permissions and measurements and back to Michelle and the events of the last twelve hours. She had yet to really think about any off it, focusing instead first on her worry for the other woman and then on the logistics of making sure she was cared for. Only now that she was on her own could she begin to poke at the tangled mass of emotions that had been stewing, threatening to overwhelm her since the moment she had first laid eyes on Katie and made her assumptions about the nature of their relationship.

She knew that she hadn't reacted normally to the revelation, for all that Michelle seemed to understand it. Perhaps it was reasonable to feel hurt that a friend had failed to mention a romantic involvement (had that actually been the case) but Tabitha knew that it was more than that. She had been jealous of the other woman - she could still remember the feeling of envy twisting in her stomach as she watched them embrace - and all because she had wanted it to be -her- that Michelle cared for.

She had thought initially that maybe she had gotten over her 'crush' on the producer; maybe it had all been a result of the complicated mix of emotions that had reared its head when she had found out about her father's illness and that when they parted it would have ebbed away naturally, leaving her unburdened by such troublesome feelings. But Michelle had come back, insinuating herself into Tabitha's plans and Tabitha's life such that it was now harder than ever for her to imagine things without her.

Her mind sifted back of its own accord over the previous night's events - though by now they seemed a world ago. Not for the first time, or the tenth, she was back sitting on that crate, Michelle on her knees in front of her, staring up at her, eyes shining with tears.

"You're my best friend, and I love you."

Tabitha couldn't remember ever having heard those words before. Before meeting Michelle she couldn't have imagined ever -believing- those words. But now she did, and it both elated and disappointed her.

I have a best friend. Who loves me. Who wants to see me happy. I... should be, right?

And yet there was that tiny voice in the back of her head that said it wasn't enough.

 

"All right, so this one's an old classic, but that's not necessarily a bad thing - okay, I'm not going to say anything else, just tell me what you think." Tabitha stepped back, watching the people gathered around the table expectantly.

One by one, her guests dug in, almost immediately expressing their approval with a variety of pleased noises. There was really only one response she was waiting for, however, and it wasn't until Michelle looked up and flashed that grin that she let out the breath she had been holding.

"It's all right?"

"It's exquisite."

"Oh, don't be stupid, the sauce isn't quite right yet..."

"No, she's right, it's delicious," Katie piped up, and she was soon joined by noises of agreement from the rest of the group. Tabitha didn't normally plan her menus in quite this fashion, but an idle remark from Michelle the week before had spurred her into inviting the producer and several other people to 24a to sample several dishes she was planning to include on The Glass House menu.

Of course, Tabitha didn't really have a group of friends, per se, which was why the people attending were mostly of Michelle's acquaintance, including her assistant Suze and her brother Stuart as well as Katie, towards whom Tabitha felt much friendlier now that she knew the truth of her relationship to the Tait family.

Michelle's social and familial circle were a largely talkative and friendly bunch, and so the atmosphere of the little dinner party - being hosted in one of 24a's private dining rooms - was congenial and rather boisterous by the time the main course was being finished, then wine flowing freely and the delicious food keeping moods bouyant.

Tabitha, though she was used to her share of dinner parties, was not used to being in such a convivial group and she struggled to keep up with the laughter and good will. It was made easier by Michelle at her side, however. The producer had been a silent bastion of support the whole evening, constantly back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room, keeping her friends entertained and helping and reassuring Tabitha in every way she could.

And because of this, she actually found she was having a good time. The food had gone down well, and there was certainly plenty of entertaining conversation to listen in on. At the moment Laura was quizzing Stuart and Katie on their upcoming nuptials.

"I wanted to elope, but he's having none of it," she was saying now, slipping an arm through Stu's as their plates were being taken away. "Says his family would kill him."

"Damn right," Michelle said now. "I'm not going to miss out on being Best Man for anything..."

"How charmingly queer," Laura replied with a grin. "Tux and all?"

"Morning suit, _please_, Michelle corrected her. "You can't wear a tux to a daytime event, Laura, really... Besides," she added, "I have a feeling I'll be lucky if I convince Stu to wear a suit never mind me..."

"Oh, what if it was a suit made of post-its? You'd look lovely in yellow," the director chuckled now.

Tabitha watched quietly as Stu joined the conversation, joking with Laura and Michelle and occasionally shooting besotted looks at Katie, who was seated beside him. She felt a wave of jealousy - was this how normal families were? - followed by a feeling of warmth. It's good. Michelle deserves this. I'm glad she's happy.

She was shaken out of her reverie by the sound of her own name.

"...Tabitha to cater, if she'd do us the honour," Katie was saying, casting a quick glance in the chef's direction.

"What? Oh, uh, yeah, of course," the chef replied, looking surprised. "I've never done a wedding before, but... sure."

Stu and Michelle looked as surprised as Tabitha was at Katie's request, but Michelle shot her a fond smile and reached to give her elbow a brief squeeze. The chef felt butterflies erupt in her stomach, and it must have been their influence that made her suddenly blurt out, "And, uh, if you're looking for a venue you could use The Glass House - I'm sure it'd be really nice for a summer wedding."

Stu frowned slightly at this, but Katie's face lit up. "Really? It's going to be ready by then?"

"Well, it'll be close but I think so - what do you think?" Tabitha asked, glancing at Michelle then.

"I think it sounds wonderful," Michelle said with a warm smile.

"Well, then, it's yours if you want it," the chef said, turning back to Katie and Stu. "I can show you the site next week if that'll help."

"That would be-"

"We'll let you know," Stu cut in. "Got to talk everything through first," he said, and Tabitha thought she saw him shoot a look at Michelle that was laden with a meaning she couldn't discern.

"...okay. just let me know, I guess." Still mildly confused she excused herself from the table to go check on the dessert course, welcoming the bustle of the kitchen as a break from the increasingly complicated obstacle course of the dining table.

She wasn't to escape entirely, however, as Michelle joined her a couple of minutes later, heralding her arrival at her side with that gentle touch to her elbow that seemed to have become her usual greeting - not usually a tactile person, Tabitha had certainly been happy to mark this as an exception, her stomach giving a tiny flutter whenever it happened.

"Sorry about Stu," she murmured now, beneath the hearing of anyone around them. "He just isn't past all that old crap between us, overprotective brother, you know? He'll come round."

"Yeah, no, it's cool," Tabitha said nonchalantly, shrugging. "I mean, it's his wedding, I'm not trying to hijack it or anything."

"Oh, I know. I know you'd never do that."

"I just want them to have a nice time. And you."

"I can't think of anywhere I'd rather see them use for the wedding," Michelle said. "We'll see how he feels. Don't worry about it, okay?"

No, it's cool, it's fine." Tabitha paused, looking down at the other woman. "Seriously."

There was that fond smile again, and Tabitha felt the butterflies return. "Okay," she said, Then, "Good."

"Damn straight. Now, go sit down - dessert's almost ready."

"Sir yes Sir."

 

The rest of the meal passed in relative peace - it wasn't long before people were finishing their after-dinner coffees and teas and wrapping up their conversations. Suddenly itching for a cigarette, Tabitha fixed a smile on her lips and nodded along to all the praise for her cooking, glad at least that her menu seemed to have gone down well.

The gathering eventually began to disperse, and soon only Michelle, Katie, Stuart and Laura were left sitting around the table with Tabitha as the waiting staff cleared the last of their plates and unused receptacles.

"So, I know it's early yet, but... since you two are working so closely together on it anyway, I was thinking maybe we could film some of the prep of The Glass House for the next series," Laura suggested, eyebrows raised. "I'm sure audiences would love to see what goes into making a restaurant, and it'd be great publicity when it opens..."

"I, um..." Michelle hesitated, casting a look in Tabitha's direction. "I think there's still a certain amount of doubt as to whether there'll be a next series," she said, casting a questioning look in Tabitha's direction.

"Yes, I know... obviously I hope there will be," Laura said. "Just putting it out there. You ladies think about it and let me know."

"Well, it's a good suggestion," was all the producer would say.

"Well, Michelle's quite busy - she's got a lot on her plate," Stu spoke up then. "So maybe another series isn't the best use of her time."

"It has nothing to do with my time, Stu," Michelle said quickly. "Tabitha just hasn't decided whether she wants to continue yet."

"Well maybe that's something that she should take into consideration when she does decide," he said pointedly.

"Stu..." But Michelle didn't have the chance to finish whatever she was going to say, as Katie cut in then, slipping her arm through Stu's.

"Come on, sweetheart, I think these three want to talk shop - whether you like it or not." Her tone carried a gentle warning with it.

"Fine, fine..." Together they stood; the wait staff hurried off to retrieve their coats.

"Thanks so much for having us here tonight - everything was amazing," Katie said, smiling widely at Tabitha. "And we'll be in touch about everything else. Thanks again."

Tabitha murmured a few acknowledgements, unable to banish the feeling that she was somehow complicit in a growing family quarrel. She didn't much like it.

"G'night, both of you," Michelle said, standing herself to hug each of them in turn.

 

A few minutes later they were gone, leaving Laura, Michelle and Tabitha alone at the table. Laura wasted no time in ordering a brandy, looking as if she was preparing to settle in for a long night of 'talking shop'. Tabitha hesitated, then excused herself, promising to return shortly.

The backstreet alongside the restaurant was perhaps a little cleaner and a little sweeter smelling than the average Soho alleyway, but Tabitha nevertheless jumped a little and spun around when she heard the sound of someone behind her.

"Mish said you'd stopped smoking."

"Uh, yeah, I had..." She frowned, eyes dropping to the flickering cigarette in her fingers and then back up at the man in front of her. "Guess I started again."

"Old habits die hard, huh?" Stu said in a significant tone, slipping his hands into his pockets and raising his eyebrows, looking up at her through the dark hair that fell over his forehead. He was taller than his sister but still a shade shorter than Tabitha herself, inheriting his mother's famously slight frame, and Tabitha was suddenly struck with how similar he and Michelle were physically.

"...yeah. Listen, is there something I can help you with?" Tabitha asked, feeling somewhat intimidated and bristling at the sensation. He's probably just got turned around or something. Chill the fuck out.

"Hmm... Yeah, maybe you can, actually," he said now. "See, here's the thing. Michelle, for better or worse, however casually she comes across, is just about the sweetest, kindest, most genuine person on the planet."

Tabitha blinked; did Stuart think -she- needed reminding of this fact? "Yeah, I know."

"But here's the thing," Stuart went on. "The one thing she's never been short of before is a self-preservation instinct - you know, that fight or flight that kicks in when you just know something's going to blow up in your face. Mish has always had that before." Stuart stepped a shade closer now, though not to square up to Tabitha - if anything, he just seemed more intense, keener that she hear him properly, see his face in the dumping light of the alley. "Until you."

"Listen, Stuart, I know what you think, but I wouldn't do anything like that to her - not anymore," Tabitha murmured, swallowing heavily.

"Just like you stopped smoking?" the young man asked, raising her eyebrows. "Look," he said now, "I don't know what's going on between you two but I do know that Mish doesn't need this. D'you understand?"

"There's nothing... 'going on'," Tabitha protested. "We're friends. She doesn't need friends?" Or maybe I don't deserve them.

"She has friends!" Stuart said now, his temper clearly fraying. "Her friends don't get her hurt! Her friends don't mess her around, she doesn't let them. I've never seen her cry over _anyone_ until she met you." Stuart stepped back a little now, obviously trying very hard to keep himself in check. "I've never seen her the way she is with you," he repeated. "Can you really promise me that you aren't going to, Idunno, freak out again?"

Tabitha squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, feeling the smoldering end of her cigarette burn closer to her fingers. "I'm trying my hardest to be the friend she deserves," she murmured. "I wouldn't hurt her, I swear."

"On purpose, maybe," Stuart said. He sighed, frowning a little. "Look, I know you didn't mean to... I know you care about her. I just think maybe you two... aren't on the same page. D'you know what I mean?"

Fuck. He knows. I don't know how, but he knows. Tabitha stared in horror at the younger man for a moment, the cigarette dropping out of her hand and onto the ground. "I..."

"And I'm sorry to come over all intimidating or whatever. I just think... maybe just back off a little, okay? Before somebody gets hurt."

"Yeah. Sure."

"All... right. Okay," Stuart said, nodding abruptly. "Thanks."

 

Hey Tabitha, it's me again... just wanted to see if you were around, I thought we could grab dinner and talk about those designs for the Glass House floor... anyway, give me a call back if you get this.

Tabitha gave a shuddering sigh and hit the 'delete' button. She wasn't busy that evening - she had almost next to nothing to do, in fact.

She had seen Michelle since the dinner - it would have seemed strange not to. But they'd spent much less time together in recent weeks largely due to Tabitha 'missing' most of Michelle's calls.

It wasn't as if it was hard to pretend to do - they were both quite busy, and Tabitha had plenty of experience avoiding people who annoyed or pissed her off. This was her first time avoiding someone she liked, though. And she hated it. Every time she was tempted to pick up, however, Stuart's words kept running through her head, and her guilt at coming between the siblings overwhelmed her.

If Michelle had noticed anything wrong, she hadn't said anything - she was as friendly and affectionate as ever, apparently taking Tabitha's slightly distant nature as par for the course. This made the chef feel even worse, which meant that all their interactions were once again tinged with awkwardness. Plans for the restaurant continued apace, but they no longer shared the long car ride out to the property or the late-night brainstorming sessions that she had come to look forward to so much.

 

"Michelle, darling, how are you?"

"Hey, Mum. Have you got some time to talk? I'm kind of... driving myself a little mad at the moment, and I could use some, y'know. Perspective."

"Of course, love. What's troubling you?"

Michelle sighed, relaxing a little on the couch even as she felt herself well-up a little at the question. "I guess the short answer is, um, Tabitha."

"Tabitha? Oh dear, have there been more problems with the show?"

Michelle actually let out a short laugh at this. "No, no, it's not... everything's fine, I mean, we're still getting along and..."

"Is it the restaurant, then?"

"No, I... Mum, I've been a total idiot."

"Oh, sweetie, I'm sure you haven't. Why don't I stop interrupting with my silly questions and let you tell me what's wrong?"

"I just... I've made a bad call, I think. I thought we could just be friends and she'd never have to know and everything would just... go on like normal, I'd get over myself. But I think she's figured it out, and she's being so _nice_ about it but she's definitely changed and now I just feel like a complete creep, not telling her everything." Michelle stopped to suck in a slightly ragged breath, her mother waiting patiently. "All she needed was a friend. And I fell in love with her. What should I have done?"

"Oh, Michelle... you haven't done anything wrong, you know that. You can't help who you love... especially your friends. I'm sure Tabitha doesn't think you're a creep."

"I'm right about this - she's been different ever since that dinner. I know she's ignoring most of my calls, we don't get together for drinks any more, or go on long drives... She's avoiding being alone with me. What else could that mean, y'know?"

Her mother hesitated, unsure how to respond, it seemed. "Have you tried talking to her about it? If you're worried about how she sees you, maybe you could explain... that you don't expect anything reciprocal from her."

Michelle didn't say anything for some time. _Hey, you called her. If you didn't want sensible advice..._ "I know, I should. I just... Everything's going to change. I thought... If we could just have stayed as we were, that'd have been fine, y'know? I was... happy that way. I don't need all the physical stuff, or the romance or whatever, not with her. Just being with her was enough. And... I don't know how to explain that - when I say it it sounds like I was deceiving her all along, making her think we were friends when secretly, to me, we were more. There's no way she's going to hear that and be okay with it."

"I think," her mother said, "that if you tell her how much you care for her, and how much you enjoy being in her company, the only thing she's going to be is flattered. And yes, things might change, but maybe not as much as you think. We always build things up more in our heads, you know that."

"I just can't get it out of my head, the time she accused me of flirting with her, it was like... I'd personally insulted her." Michelle sighed. "You're right. Of course you're right - I have to talk to her. I will. Thanks, Mum."

"I hope it all works out. I know how much you were enjoying her friendship."

"Right. I mean, yeah... G'night Mum, Thanks."

Michelle hung up the phone with a sigh, dropping the object onto the sofa beside her and folding her legs up and wrapping her arms around them. _So that's it, I guess. Say nothing and lose her, or say something and lose her. Great._

 

The next phone call she received wasn't from the woman she wanted to talk to, though it did contain some interesting news.

"Michelle? Hey you, how's it going? Now listen, I didn't call to chat, I just wanted to let you know - Tabs has signed on for. Another series. We've got ourselves a show!"

"Wow, that's um... She has? Well, that's great," Michelle said, trying to keep her voice light for fear of dampening Laura's spirits. "She... never said."

"Oh, it wasn't that long ago - she left it so long the board were practically shitting themselves thinking she wasn't going to do it. That's how she got them to agree to the Glass House filming."

"She went for that idea, then? Well, that should be... interesting..."

"You're still up for it, right? Don't back out on me now..."

"What? Oh... Laura, I dunno... I don't know if I want to get tied into another series with Tabitha..." Whether she meant 'Tabitha' the show or 'Tabitha' the person wasn't clear from her tone.

"Oh come on, you've seen the reviews, everybody loves you. And besides, if I don't have you Tabs'll probably change her mind again and I can't deal with that right now, seriously, I'd go mental."

"I... don't know if she necessarily wants me to be involved. Unless she said something about me?"

"Oh believe me, she did."

"Really?" Michelle sat up straight, now, not that Laura could see her of course. "What?"

"Just that you were the most brilliant producer she's ever worked with and she couldn't imagine the show without you, that you were like 'the missing ingredient' that made her realize how much she actually liked doing the show - which is pretty high praise, I'm sure you can imagine."

"She said that? Recently?"

"Just yesterday, at the board meeting."

"...Huh. I see."

"So anyway, you can see how it might cause problems if you quit. Not that I'm saying you have to be there constantly - if we're changing up the format again we can make it a bit looser for you, maybe halve your commitments..."

"No, no, it's okay," Michelle said quickly now. "If Tabitha wants me, I'm there."

"Yeah? All right. Well, I'll have them send you your contract, you can look it over and make any changes you want, yeah?"

"Yes, sure, okay."

"Great! Well, talk to you soon - ciao!"

 

Michelle stared at the handset for some time before replacing it in its cradle. It had been hours since her conversation with her mother, and she'd spent most of that time staring into space. This call from Laura had done very little to ground her, only confusing her further. Michelle was not a person to let her imagination run away with her - she wasn't paranoid or fanciful by nature, and she was confident that it wasn't in her head - Tabitha had definitely been avoiding her of late, letting Paul take calls she once would have herself, ignoring others altogether. And yet just the previous day she had been singing Michelle's praises to the executive board, insisting that she couldn't imagine going on without her? It just didn't make sense.

It seemed like talking to Tabitha was the only solution - and it was the one thing she desperately didn't want to do. Not an avoidant person by nature, Michelle just couldn't see a way in which that conversation would end anything but badly.

In any event, with Tabitha trying to avoid her, and Michelle trying to pretend that she didn't know that Tabitha was avoiding her, it was some time before they even had a chance to talk in any meaningful way about anything that wasn't business.

Tabitha must've thought she was safe that day; after all, with both a work and camera crew around there to capture some 'atmosphere' shots for the upcoming series the restaurant site was crawling with people. For most of the day their only interactions were occasionally meeting to discuss this renovation or that, and it wasn't until the end of the day, when the crews began to pack up for the evening that Michelle saw her chance.

"Hey you," she said as she approached Tabitha, the latter bent over a large pile of plans but, mercifully, alone in a quiet corner for once.

Tabitha glanced up, a nervous but genuine smile flickering over her lips. "Um, hey. I thought you had gone with Laura."

"No such luck I'm afraid. Listen," Michelle said now, moving on quickly, "do you have time to catch some dinner? Or maybe just a drink? We haven't had space to just chat in ages..."

"Ummm..." Tabitha hesitated too long to make an excuse, eventually she nodded, reaching up to brush her fringe away from her eyes. "Sure. Can it wait a minute, though? I'm nearly done here..."

"Oh, totally, as long as you need," Michelle said quickly, stepping back. "Is there... anything I can help with?"

"No, it's fine - I'll just be a second. Then I'm all yours." Was it Michelle's imagination that the other woman flinched as she said these words?

Still, there was no time to think about that - Michelle left Tabitha to herself for the time being, helping some of the set-dressers with pull-down to occupy herself while she waited.

Twenty minutes later they were on the road in Tabitha's car, heading to a bar near Michelle's flat. "Don't worry, I'll get Paul to pick up the car tomorrow," Tabitha reassured her as they were trying to decide where to go.

The bar itself was of the 'trendy' variety that Michelle usually hated for anything approaching real conversation, but reasonably quiet on a weeknight, rendering it much less offensive, and so the pair settled into a booth there and ordered a bottle of red wine and a light plate of snacks to stave off hunger and prevent the wine from going to their heads. Indeed, Tabitha seemed to be concentrating on the snacks, popping olives into her mouth and avoiding her wine altogether, whereas Michelle lost no time in pouring herself a generous glass. I need all the Dutch Courage I can get on this one...

"So.." she opened eventually, clearing her throat. "How've you been? Feels like ages since we caught up properly..."

"Um, yeah... I guess I've been busy?" Tabitha replied. "You know, with the show and the restaurant and all..."

Michelle's heart sank as she heard the excuses - Tabitha was fooling no one. Still, she pressed on. "I've missed you," she said carefully.

The other woman dropped her eyes to the table, fingers twining around the stem of her wine glass. "I'm sorry. I know I haven't been very... available lately," she murmured.

Michelle hesitated, then reached out a hand, touching her fingers to Tabitha's. "It's okay. Really, it is. But I think we should... talk. A little. If you'd be okay with that."

The look that the other woman gave her was torn; obviously she wanted to talk, but something was making her reluctant. Michelle could guess what. "Sure."

Jesus. Okay. Let's do this. Michelle took a deep breath, and released it again, slowly. "Okay. So. Tabitha, I feel like I haven't been very... fair to you. I feel as though we've maybe been... feeling different things about one another." She paused, hoping for some reaction from Tabitha and getting only a sort of rabbit-in-headlights silence, and she swallowed past the growing lump in her throat before pushing on. "I think you've maybe realised that too."

"I-I..." Tabitha stuttered, look as if the car was due to hit any second now. "Michelle, we don't have to... I mean, I understand if you don't want to discuss it..."

"No, no, it's okay," Michelle said, shaking her head. "I think it's important," she added. "Because Tabitha, what matters most to me, more than anything, is that we can be friends. I would never want to lose that, and I would never do anything to jeopardise it. I hope you believe that."

"Of course I do!"

Tabitha's vehemence was at once relieving and a little surprising, and Michelle started back, slightly, blinking, although she kept her hand touching Tabitha's - in fact, she reached out, now, teasing the other woman's fingers away from the stem of her wine glass, wrapping her around them. "So here's the thing, then. I promise you that you don't need to worry about me getting all... weird... with you. You've been incredibly sensitive with me-" At least, I'm hoping sensitive and not just freaked out... "-and I really appreciate that. But you don't need to be. Do you think we can just... be friends? And try not to worry about anything else? I promise that you can trust me to hold up my end, I swear."

"Um..." Tabitha frowned, her fingers flexing around Michelle's hand. "Okay..."

Michelle felt a twist of concern - had she said the wrong thing? She forced a smile nonetheless. "This is really important to me," she stressed now. "I really don't want this to come between us."

"Neither do I," Tabitha replied, shaking her head. "I'd like it if we could still be... friends."

"Okay. Okay, good," Michelle said, with a nod, her smile growing a little more genuine. She gave Tabitha's hand a squeeze before releasing it. "Good."

"Mm... I mean, yeah, good."

Michelle sat back, immediately reaching for a long draught of her wine. "Okay," she said now, nodding slowly, feeling at least somewhat relieved. "So."

Tabitha raised her eyebrows, hesitating before reaching for her own wine glass. "So?"

"So, um... tell me how things are going with the plans. Did you get much done this afternoon?"

Tabitha sighed, giving a shrug. "You know how it is... everything slows down with a film crew around."

"Well, at least they went away again - you've got a few weeks yet before you have to worry about them there constantly."

"Yeah. I guess we'll just have to get as much work done as we can before they come back."

"Well, you know I'm with you all the way. Anything you need - my calendar's clear."

"You're sure you're not busy?" Tabitha wanted to know. "I thought..."

Michelle raised her eyebrows. "Thought what?"

"...I thought you might be busy."

Frowning slightly, Michelle shook her head. "I have nothing I couldn't cancel for you," she said, with a slight smile.

"Um. All right."

"Why would you..." Then she remembered. "Oh, Jesus, Stu - Tabitha, you shouldn't pay any attention to what he said at that dinner. He's an idiot sometimes."

Tabitha dropped her eyes again, reaching for her glass. "I'm sure he's just looking out for you."

"'Course he, is, but that doesn't stop him being an idiot. Probably makes him worse."

"Oh." Tabitha was beginning to look extremely uncomfortable, her fingers drifting towards her jacket pocket before she jerked them away.

Michelle caught the gesture. "How're you getting on with quitting again?" she asked now. It hadn't escaped her notice that Tabitha had started smoking once more.

"I guess I haven't really tried," Tabitha said, making a face. "I think it's a lost cause."

"Aw, don't say that. You were doing really well before."

"Only 'cause you wre nagging me all the time..."

"D'you need me to nag you again? I can do, if you'd like..."

"Oh, I dunno... don't waste your time, I guess."

Michelle made a face, shaking her head. "It wouldn't be a waste of time. I don't mind."

"Okay, well." Tabitha hesitated, then went on. "It really helped. When you... reminded me not to."

The other woman smiled a bit. "I can do that," she said. "More wine?"

"Sure."

 

One glass followed another, and slowly, Michelle began to relax. Tabitha still seemed nervy, though at least she hadn't tried to jump up and disappear as soon as their 'talk' had finished. She allowed Michelle to refill her glass and to lead her into slightly more comfortable topics of conversation, and after an hour had passed it seemed almost like old times again.

It was with some relief that Michelle waved her into a taxi as they made their separate ways off to dinner, with a promise that next time they met, they'd eat together again, as they had so often before. She was left feeling... not quite right, exactly. But definitely better.

Only one thing remained - she had to talk to Stu. Tabitha seemed all too sensitive to his words, and she certainly didn't need any more misunderstandings, not when they had dealt with this one so neatly.

 

"Stu, I need you to lay off Tabitha, okay?"

"What?" The younger man struggled to sit up from his reclining position on the couch, brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

Michelle gave him a warning look. "That off-hand comment you made about me being too busy for her really got to her, I think. She's really sensitive to you, so you need to ease up on the brotherly overprotectiveness, okay?"

"...right. You -are- busy, Mish - or at least you could be, if you weren't turning down all work in favor of that stupid show."

"Stu, it's a job. It's like any other job I've done. I just don't understand this vendetta of yours against Tabitha - if I'm fine with her now why can't you be?"

"Because I've seen what she can do to you, and I don't like it." Unfortunately Katie was nowhere around to derail Stu's rant, and he looked to be building up a full head of steam. "Ultimately she's a selfish spoiled bitch and it's only a matter of time before she lets that side show again. And hurts you in the process."

"Jesus, Stu, you don't even know her!"

"I've seen enough."

"Well, you haven't seen what I've seen."

"Just watch it, Mish. Consider if it's worth it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You've got friends who offer you a lot more for a lot less."

"Friendship isn't about keeping score."

Stuart sighed and flopped back on the couch. "Whatever. Remember that next time she makes you cry."

Michelle flinched at this. "Stuart," she murmured. "Please."

"What? You might've pretend to have forgotten, but I haven't. When's the next time she snaps and treats you like shit going to be, huh? Are you so sure she's changed?"

"Of course she hasn't changed, it's not about who she is or was, it's about... what we are to one another," Michelle finished lamely, frowning.

"And what's that? Boxer and punching bag? Master and whipping boy?"

"Oh fuck off, Stu, you know how I feel about her!" Michelle said, pushing to her feet, now, turning away from her brother as tears sprung to her eyes. "You know," she said quietly.

"Yeah well, excuse me if I think there are better people for you to feel that way about," her brother said gruffly, pushing himself up from the couch and moving to crouch next to Michelle's chair. "C'mon, Mish, I wasn't trying to make you cry, I just worry, that's all..."

"Look, she knows, okay?" Michelle said now, in a low voice. "We've talked about it, and she knows, and we're just friends. Please don't expect me to give that up."

"You talked about it? Geez, Mish..."

"What else was I supposed to do - I couldn't just go on with her avoiding me, could I?"

"She was avoiding you... because you have a crush on her... so you talked it over? And now things are fine?"

"It's not a crush."

"Whatever."

Michelle whirled around. "Fuck you, Stuart."

The young man reeled back in shock, eyes wide. "Geez, I didn't mean it like that..."

"Well, how did you mean it? What am I supposed to think when my own brother can't understand how I feel? What would you have done, if Katie hadn't loved you back - would you just have walked away, never spoken to her again?" Michelle challenged him. "Wouldn't you have wanted to at least have her in your life somehow, even if it was just as friends, even if it wasn't always easy? It must be nice to live in your world where everyone's just happy all the time, but it doesn't always work that way, okay?"

"...Listen, Mish, I'm sorry. I just... hate seeing you upset," he said, frowning. "And I've never seen you as upset as you have been because of her. I just wish things were easier, you know?"

"Yeah, well, you and me both."

 

"Hey, Tabitha! Wow, this is really coming along, huh?" Katie grinned as she looked around the building site - which still looked very much like a building site.

"Well, it looked worse last week," the taller woman said with a shrug. "So I guess that's progress."

Katie laughed, wandering along the side wall of the glass house. "I think it's going to be amazing - I love the floor."

"Mm, yeah. It's going to be nice," Tabitha agreed mildly. "It was Michelle's idea - based on a mosiac we saw when we were in Italy."

"She's obviously got an eye. Guess it's a producer thing - all knowing, all seeing," Katie said with a chuckle.

"Must be. If you wanted we could bring in a parquet floor... for dancing, I mean."

"Oh, wow, really? I'll have to look at the budget..."

"I'm sure I can help you out with that. I'll make some calls."

"Are you sure? I don't want to put you to any more trouble..."

"It's fine," Tabitha said with a shrug. "No big deal."

Katie shot her a curious look, then. "You're so different in real life," she said. "I mean..." she shook her head, making an apologetic face. "I don't know. I'm sure no one's the way they are on TV really."

Tabitha snorted. "You mean I'm not a raging bitch."

"Oh, I never thought you were that... but you're not as..." Katie trailed off, then shook her head. "Never mind," she said with a smile. "It's supid to speculate about people you don't know, and stupider to tell them about it."

"Most people like hearing about themselves, even from strangers," Tabitha pointed out, turning the corner and coming face-to-face with the magnificent view out over the hills.

"Do you?"

"I get to hear about myself whether I like it or not. It doesn't bother me anymore."

"Fair enough, I suppose. Well, for what it's worth, I wouldn't believe too much of what you hear."

Tabitha glanced at the younger woman, tight-lipped for a moment before blinking and looking away. "So are you still happy with this? It will be ready in time, I swear."

"God, definitely. The more I see, the surer I am. Just have to hope Stu comes round - oh, don't worry, he will."

"He seemed pretty set against it last I heard."

"Nah, he's just... got a bee in his bonnet. Ignore him."

People keep telling me to do that... "Well, it's your wedding. I guess you'll work it out."

Katie grinned. "Oh, don't you worry, I will. Besides, when he sees it he'll change his mind."

"Maybe wait 'til it's a bit further along, yeh?"

The other woman smirked slightly. "Yeh, maybe," she said.

"Anyway, we should talk about the catering. I have a few suggestions, if you'd follow me to the office..."

 

"So glad you came out tonight - you've been a monk for months, had us all worried."

Michelle grinned, waving off the comment. "Well, I'm here now," she responded, raising her voice just as her companion had to over the loud music.

"Indeed! It really has been ages - normally you'd be swarmed by now. Hope you haven't lost your touch..."

"Hah, some things you never lose."

 

And indeed, it looked like Michelle hadn't lost her touch. A few hours later she had been showered with plenty of attention, enough that she could pick and choose who she wanted to dance with, buy drinks for, and sit with at one of the small, intimate tables on the side of the dance floor. At the moment she was cozied up to an attractive young woman with long red hair, who unfortunately seemed bent on spoiling the 'mood' that Michelle had worked hard to achieve, mostly with the addition of copious amounts of alcohol.

"Oh my God, I love Tabitha! I mean, it was always worth watching - for the eye candy, y'know? - but now it's actually kind of fun! I can't believe you're on the show! That's so cool!"

Michelle smiled and nodded through this, mostly steering the conversation away from the show and from the particular delights of Tabitha Harding and toward the girl's own work and life. She found herself not really listening, focusing more on the shapes the girl's mouth made and the play of freckles over her milky skin. Come on, you've never expected scintillating conversation from girls you liked before, don't start now. She's sweet, she's pretty, and that's all you care about. For conversation you have friends. You have Tabitha.

Luckily she was able to tune back in soon enough to catch the invitation the girl extended back to her place for 'coffee', and it wasn't long before coffee (which was actually wine) merged into some rather enthusiastic making out on the young woman's Ikea sofa in her fashionable little studio flat. The young woman was willing, nubile, and quite enthusiastic, soon straddling Michelle's lap and leaning over her as they kissed, making loud noises of approval every time the older woman so much as nibbled her lip or shifted closer and eventually Michelle pulled back a little, hands finding the other woman's. "Sweetheart - Lissie - calm down a bit, yeh?" she said with a gentle smile. "We're got all night."

"Um, yeah, I know... that means we get multiple goes, right?" the girl asked, grinning devilishly.

"Well, sure, but we can still take our time..."

"Mm, I thought we were..."

Michelle forced a smile, and leaned up to kiss her again. "You're cute," she murmured.

"And you're hot," the redhead purred, sliding her arms around Michelle's neck. Resigning herself to a noisy night, Michelle rested her hands on the other woman's hips, shifting to nibble on the other woman's neck. This made Lissie squirm in delight, her kisses growing all the more ardent with Michelle's apparent 'encouragement'. Michelle found that her enthusiasm had somewhat left her, but she responded nevertheless to the young woman's attentions, and soon the pair had moved the few feet from the couch to her bed.

Why was she even here? The obvious answer was that she hadn't gotten laid in far too long - usually her dry spells barely lasted weeks, not months. It wasn't healthy to deny herself that release even if her feelings for other people were complicated. In fact, it could be argued that it was all the more imperative she continue her clubbing and bar trips, or her resolve to keep her feelings under lock and key might evaporate like so many good intentions.

Still, it made it rather hard to just let loose and have fun when all she could think about was how Tabitha's lips might feel on hers, how Tabitha's skin might move against hers - mingled with the memories of the other woman's auburn hair woven with her fingers the sweet smell of her skin as they'd embraced.

Luckily Lissie didn't seem to notice her distraction, and it wasn't long before the younger woman was rolling around on the bed in seeming ecstacy, which was good for Michelle's ego if not her genuine enjoyment of the act. Soon, the pair were lying in one another's arms, heart rates slowly returning to normal, the perspiration cooling on their skin in the air.

"That was amazing. You're amazing," Lissie murmured, nuzzling Michelle's neck with her nose.

"Mm, you too," Michelle said, squeezing the other woman's shoulders briefly. Then, after a hesitation to gather herself together. "Crap. I've just remembered. I have to get up really early tomorrow."

"Oh. All right," the younger woman said, not seeming too phased by this pronoucement. "Well, you can stay if you like, but..."

"No, no, I should really go."

"Okay. Oh, wait," Lissie said, shifting to grab something from the side table. "Lemme give you my number."

"Um. Sure."

 

Looking down at the girl's hastily-scribbled mobile number as she headed for the nearest taxi rank, Michelle was suddenly struck by two very strong urges: the first, to dump the paper in the nearest bin - she really didn't need a repeat off tonight's performance. The second? To call Tabitha.

Giving into the former urge, Michelle made her way home - she was close enough to walk, in point of fact. As for the other urge, she resisted. It was quite late - was the other woman even up?

 

Well, girls, throw away your Tabitha + Michelle teatowel, unbookmark the YouTube New Year Special fan video featuring That Arm Touch, delete the Italian Easter Special from the naughty place on your hard drive. It looks very much as though the ever gorgeous Ms Tait has finally laid the rumours (read: our wishful thinking) to rest by doing what she does best: pulling gorgeous women. One of our English correspondents snapped this pic on her cameraphone of Michelle leaving the exclusive Soho dykebar 'O' hand-in-hand with a gorgeous redhead - but not our Tabitha! Our source tells us that they'd been very cose most of the evening before they decided to make their exit and bundled themselves into a taxi together, looking very friendly indeed! So it looks like Michelle is still on the prowl, and Tabitha is back on the "Is she or isn't she?" list...

Tabitha stared at the computer screen, cursor hovering over the 'close' icon of the browser. Ever since seeing that first article she had become an avid follower of the AfterEllen.com 'Tabitha' forum, reading each recap several times over and following the 'gossip' columns with nearly as much fervor. She knew it was sad and a bit strange to be hung up on a stranger's warped view of her and Michelle's relationship, but it was also almost comforting, in a way. That was, until tonight.

The delighted consternation of the commenters on the post had been of little comfort. There seemed little doubt this time that Michelle was seeing someone else - or at least had that night - after all, they were leaving a gay bar, it wasn't something that could be explained as easily as Katie had been.

Sighing heavily, Tabitha finally closed the window, barely glancing at her email before pushing away from the computer. She knew she should do something to take her mind off of what she had just read - go for a run, read a book... cook something, for God's sake. She couldn't bring herself to do any of those things, though, all too distracted by the thought of Michelle - her best friend - and the leggy redhead whose hand she had been clasping as they slid into the taxi.

It wasn't as though she had any real recourse for upset - the evidence clearly pointed toward a casual fling - but somehow this didn't make it feel any better. Eventually, frustated with her own inability to just get over the thoughts swirling in her head, Tabitha poured herself a glass of wine and ran a bath. She didn't often use the expansive bathtub, though after that morning's workout her aching muscles cried out for a soak, and soon she was sinking into the almost too-hot water with an expansive sigh.

She knew all along that Michelle was still 'on the prowl' as it were - just because this was the first proof didn't mean it hadn't happened before. And if she was just out for fun then it made sense why she wouldn't tell Tabitha about it. It wasn't as if they shared every detail of their lives, although they did seem to cover most other things, from upcoming plans for The Glass House to what Michelle had watched on TV last night.

Then again, Michelle had probably been trying to spare her, it occurred to her now. After all, she knew that Tabitha had feelings for her that she couldn't return. Perhaps it was sensitivity rather than deceit that had made her keep her casual encounters out of their day to day conversation.

And again, this should have helped. But it didn't. Tabitha squeezed her eyes shut and submerged herself under the hot water, trying to push aside the roiling jealousy and longing in her gut. Michelle still wanted to be friends. She had been nothing but kind and open since their discussion in the bar, and Tabitha knew she was lucky to have retained her friendship. The question was, could she handle everything that that meant, including Michelle having a private life?

As she surfaced and began to skim her fingers down her stomach, closing her eyes and tipping her head back against the rim of the tub, Tabitha gave another shuddering sigh. I guess we all have things we'd rather keep secret...

 

"So I think that's everything in place... wow, I can't believe we actually pulled this off - Katie is going to be amazed by this."

"Um, yeah. It all looks all right, doesn't it?"

"All right?" Michelle turned to Tabitha with a huge grin, impulsively turning to give her a quick hug. "Tabitha, it's amazing."

The taller woman froze, unable to think or respond for a good few seconds. "I, um, I'm glad you think so. And I hope Katie likes it."

"She'll love it. She will absolutely love it. It's perfect."

Tabitha nodded jerkily, glancing around. The site was all but completed now - the glass house itself had been finished first, with its colorful mosiac floor and wide glass panes. The kitchen was next, a compact stone and mortar construction next to the dining room with large windows bordering three sides. Tabitha had been exacting with her specifications for design, dragging Michelle to every restaurant wholesaler in the London area before selecting the stoves, sinks and other appliances for the kitchen.

There were a few finishing touches required - some of the shrubbery was yet to arrive and the drive hadn't been surfaced yet, but with a month to go, there was now no question that the venue would be ready in time for Stuart and Katie's wedding.

It was a relief; over the past months Tabitha had put every ounce of energy she had into the renovation, wanting to impress Katie, who she had grown rather fond of, Stuart, who still seemed suspicious of her despite agreeing to hold the wedding at the venue, and most of all Michelle with the new restaurant.

It seemed it had paid off - Michelle couldn't stop talking about the restaurant in the car on the way back to the city, waxing lyrical about this or that feature. Tabitha basked in the glow of a job well done, the miles seeming to fly by under Michelle's effusive praise. Things had not been easy - if anything, her feelings for the other woman grew stronger by the day - but at times like these it didn't seem to matter as long as she could just be near her.

"So we have to go for a drink - or dinner - are you free for dinner?"

"Yeah, sure," Tabitha said before she even thought about it, a grin spreading over her face.

"Brilliant. Hey, we could go to 24a if you like. Or would that be too much like being at work?"

"Yeah, um... no, that's okay. I'm sure it won't be weird."

"Great. So I should head home and change first, but we could meet later on?"

"Sure, yeah... do you want me to pick you up, or..."

"If you like."

Tabitha hesitated; did that sound too much like a datee? "Um, actually, maybe we should just meet there. Is that all right?"

"Absolutely," Michelle said. "Whatever works."

 

And so it was that Tabitha found herself waiting at 24a, not as chef or even dishwasher but as a patron. She had chosen to wear the 'little black dress' but had forgone makeup and pulled her hair back in a simple twist, wanting to look polished but not as if she had tried too hard, even if she had.

Michelle arrived shortly after, right on time. She was perhaps unusually not in a dress - she had opted instead to change into a pair of black tuxedo trousers, teaming them up with a fitted waistcoat and a dark red shirt, cufflinks twinkling at her wrists. She grinned broadly - but a little nervously? - as she caught Tabitha's eye, picking up her pace a little on her way across the room.

Tabitha stood to receive the brief kiss on the cheek that Michelle offered, towering over the other woman in her heels. Damnit, I knew I should've worn flats. "Hey. Is this okay? I thought about one of the private rooms but it's not too busy in here tonight..."

"Oh, no, no, this is fine," Michelle said with a smile. "Perfect."

"Great. Okay." Tabitha sat again, reaching for her wineglass. She hadn't ordered a bottle but wished she had now as Michelle's eyes followed the glass to her lips. "Shit, I'm sorry, you're thirsty. I'll get Liam to bring us a bottle..."

"I, um..." Michelle's eyes flickered back to Tabitha's face. "Sure. That would be nice," she said eventually. "Great."

 

It should've been that being at her own restaurant would make Tabitha more at ease, but it wasn't so. She couldn't help but worry at every little thing, spending too long staring at the menu she knew by heart before ordering her meal. All she could think about was Michelle's bright smile and the surge in her stomach when she had stepped into the room as well as the tug further down at her slim but curvaceous figure in the well-fitting trousers and waistcoat.

The other woman kept up a bright and (to Tabitha's mind) slight nervy chatter as they sat, mainly asking questions about the ongoing finishing touches that needed to be put onto the Glass House, even though they had covered much of that ground before.

Tabitha answered as best she could, trying her best to keep up the conversation despite her distraction. Jesus, I never should have agreed to this. What was I thinking? She sees straight through me, she knows... she tried so hard to be understanding but after tonight she's not going to be able to ignore it anymore.

 

Fuck. What are you doing? This feels like a date - what are you doing?

Michelle stared intently at her reflection in the immaculate 24a bathroom mirror as if it might provide some answer. It gave none.

Why did Tabitha have to be so perfect? Michelle knew it was her imagination that the other woman became more beautiful every time she saw her, but that didn't stop it from feeling that way. More and more, she found herself babbling in her presence, saying nothing of significance in the fear that she'd say the one thing that kept bubbling to the surface whenever she looked at her.

I'm in love with you. I've fallen in love with you.

The Glass House project had been perfect - it had given her the excuse to spend plenty of time with the other woman with the added bonus of giving them lots to talk about. Now that it was drawing to a close, however, Michelle began to worry. Without that between them how would she avoid telling her the truth? They certainly wouldn't have so much to say about the show, with its routine and its now known format, and there'd be the addition of them having to have 'chemistry' on camera.

Not, she thought, that it would be a problem creating that. Every time she touched Tabitha, every time she was near her she could barely stop herself from shivering with desire. Tonight, with her elegant neck bared and her long, tanned legs accented by the patent pumps she wore Michelle could barely keep her eyes off her.

Get. A fucking grip. Steeling herself, Michelle made her way back to the table. Time for dessert. Christ Almighty this cannot go on.

"Hey." Tabitha greeted her with a wide, warm smile as she took her seat at the table - the wine might've contributed to her expression a bit. The other woman had drunk more that evening than Michelle had ever seen her do before; she felt a pang of guilt. Surely it was her fault. "I ordered for you - hope you don't mind."

"Not even slightly," Michelle said with a grin that she worried might be a little too wide. "I trust you."

"Dangerous words when there's wasabi ice cream on the menu..."

"Hey, I love Japanese food. Plus, y'know, the cold soothes the hot, like, all at the same time, right?"

Tabitha just smirked. It wasn't long before their desserts were delievered: Tabitha's a healthy slice of what appeared to be carrot cake, while Michelle's was indeed a bowlful of smooth, jade-colored ice cream. As she liberated a scoop and bravely popped it in her mouth she realized it wasn't wasabi at all but a rich, subtle pistachio flavor studded with nuts.

Suddenly, she was back in Italy, with all the confusion that came along with it. She ate in silence for a little while, before a thought occurred to her.

"Tabitha. This isn't on the menu."

"I know. It's actually not made in-house - I had to send somebody out for it." The other woman paused. "Is it okay?"

"It's amazing, but... you didn't have to do that."

Tabitha gave a one-shouldered shrug. "It's no big deal. Just wanted to get you something you'd like."

"And you only knew of pistachios?" Michelle smiled a little.

The other woman seemed to blush. "No, I... know you like other things too. But I wasn't about to buy in garlic ice cream."

"Wow, garlic and pistachios. That Italy trip really left an impression, huh?"

"...yeah. Uh, I'll be right back..." With that, Tabitha balled up her napkin and stood, hurrying rapidly in the direction of the ladies room.

Michelle watched her go, looking faintly confused. Did I say something wrong?

 

Tabitha returned a few minutes later; she had obviously used her time in the batroom to splash some water on her face, as there were still a few droplets clinging to her hairline. She seemed much more composed as she sat down, though she didn't say anything about her abrupt departure. "I caught Liam and ordered us some coffees - should've thought of that before."

"What?" Tabitha blinked, clenching her fork. "I mean, um, yes, of course. I'm having a really nice time. Aren't you?"

"I am." Michelle pause, chewing her lower lip a little. "I really am," she reiterated, smiling a little, though somehow her smile was almost as sad as it was warm.

"Oh. Okay. Good, then."

The other woman hesitated, then nodded. "Right. Yes," she said, her tone a little distracted. "Good."

"Okay." At a loss for anything else to do Tabitha took a bite of her remaining dessert, chewing it thoroughly before swallowing.

Eventually, Michelle cleared her throat to speak again. "You, um, must tell me where you got the ice-cream," she offered now.

"It's gelato, actually, and there's a place that does it not that far from here, actually. It's called Scoop - stupid name, but good gelato."

"Wow, where do you find this stuff out?" Michelle marvelled. "Like that little cafe that night - amazing.

"I guess it's just one of the perks of owning a restaurant," Tabitha said with a shrug

"I guess so," Michelle said with a somewhat nervous grin.

"Kind of like you walking into a room of TV people and knowing everyone there."

The other woman tipped her head to the side a little in acknowledgment of this fact. Tabitha hesitated, then looked back to her plate, scraping her fork across it to scoop up the last of her cake.

"So are you going to throw a party for the grand opening of the Glass House?" Michelle blurted out now.

"Uh... yeah, I guess so," the other woman said, glancing up again. "I hadn't really thought about it - Paul usually organises stuff like that."

Michelle nodded. "Well, that should be nice. Just don't let Laura talk you into filming it," she added with a smirk.

"Ugh, I am so sick of those fucking cameras..."

The other woman chuckled, shaking her head. "Sorry," she said. "My fault. The whole 'reality' thing, it's sort of... insidious. If you follow it through to its logical conclusion you end up just installing CCTV in your home and broadcasting it on the web."

"I'm sure there are plenty of people who'd watch it, but I can't think of anything worse," Tabitha said, making a face.

"Oh, I wouldn't suggest it," Michelle said with a slight smile. "Everyone needs something private."

"...yeah," the other woman agreed quietly.

 

The rest of the dinner was... awkward. They drank their coffee in near silence, both women seemingly at once unable to meet the other's eye but always catching glances at one another while the other wasn't looking. Eventually Tabitha got up to settle the bill, leaving Michelle at the table to contemplate the evening. What had started out as an innocent suggestion had quickly turned into an obviously uncomfortable situation; the other woman seemed all too eager to wrap up the evening and get away as quickly as she could.

As they emerged onto the street, Tabitha pulling on her light jacket (it was warm enough that Michelle didn't need one), the slighter woman turned to her, stilling her with a hand on her arm before they went any further. Come on...

"Tabitha, I... feel like tonight's been a little weird. I want to apologise for my part in that."

"What? No, you haven't done anything," Tabitha protested, shaking her head emphatically.

"Well, look, whatever's going on... you know that I love spending time together, just as we are, right? Just... talking. Spending time together." Michelle looked more nervous now than she had all night, stuffing her hands into her pockets. "I just... I don't want us to lose that. It's really important to me."

Tabitha's expression threatened to crumple. "Yeah. Me too," she replied thickly. "I'm sorry I haven't made that... easy."

"No, oh, no, no, it's not you..." Michelle said, reaching again to pluck at Tabitha's sleeve. "It's really not. I'm just as much to blame - more."

"What are you talking about? You haven't done anything," Tabitha repeated.

"I know, but..." But I want to. I want to so badly. Michelle pulled her hand back. She shook her head. "I'll see you soon, yeh?"

"Um. Yeah. Sure."

 

Michelle got all the way back to her flat, and even all the way to her couch with a glass of wine, before she broke down in tears. She'd been trying to ignore it, pretend it wasn't happening, but she couldn't any longer. Stuart had been right: she and Tabitha couldn't just be friends. It was really only a matter of time, now before Tabitha realised that.

She had never had this problem before - even the women she had dated had never inspired this depth of feeling - and they had been completely available. The perverse part of her wondered if it was the fact that Tabitha wasn't hers for the taking that made her so irresistible, but she quickly disregarded it. This wasn't about availability, or unavailability. Things were just... different. You've never been in love before.

The realization was both terrifying and a relief. Mainly, however, she was consumed by melancholy at the idea that one way or another her friendship with Tabitha was going to suffer for it, no matter how hard she tried to avoid it.

 

"So I've set up some interviews for you for next week - if that's alright?"

"What?" Tabitha glanced up distractedly, frowning. "Interviews?"

"For staff for the Glass House. You had me put out adverts?"

"Oh, fuck... I mean, right, yeah. How many?"

"I shortlisted six for each role, so I've set aside a day and a half next week for the first lot," Paul said. "Figured you'd want your head chef and manager before you saw anyone else."

"Six? Jesus. Okay. I didn't have that many for 24a."

"Well, we could always look at them together to narrow it down further," the young man offered. "I didn't want to discard any good people on your behalf..."

"No, it's fine. It's probably just all the fucking publicity and the show. People wanting to get famous." Tabitha rolled her eyes. "I'll weed them out quick if that's the case."

Paul nodded. "Great. Good. I'll... send out the invitations, then."

"Sure."

"Oh, who do you want to sit in on interview with you? I could check Anthony and Fiona's shifts..."

"Yeah, sure, either of them," Tabitha said with a wave of her hand.

"Anyone else? I mean, Michelle or anyone?"

"What? Michelle? Why would you suggest her?"

"Um... 'cause you've involved her so much in the project?" Paul hazarded, looking a little nervous now. "I just... I didn't know if you'd want her to consult on... it's fine, not Michelle, okay."

Tabitha frowned deeply, tapping her pen against the pad of paper in front of her. "How are you getting on planning the opening?"

"Oh, um, pretty well I think, actually - the planner Laura recommended is really good - very professional."

"Okay. Good."

Paul nodded. "Is there... anything else?"

"No. Why? Should there be?"

"Um... no?"

"Michelle hasn't called today, has she?"

Paul raised his eyebrows. "Nope."

"Oh. Right. Fine. If she does..."

"I'll... let you know?"

"Yeah. Okay."

 

"Wow, Tabs, well done - this is amazing! Just look at it!"

Tabitha looked around herself as Laura had indicated, taking in the drastic change that the rural property had undergone. It still retained its charm; the drive had only been widened slightly, laid down with gravel and bordered by tea lights in small paper bags. Dozens of people in glittering cocktail dresses and immaculate suits mingled under the shining glass roof, admiring the brightly-colored mosiac floor, the rustic wooden tables and chairs, the fat bouquets of flowers resting in weathered tin watering cans. Everything had come together perfectly, and the praise reflected that, even before the food was served.

Laura looked around herself excitedly - she hadn't seen the venue since it was still a building site, so she was amazed and delighted by everything, constantly commenting on this or that feature as they walked around. Tabitha replied monosyllabically, the champagne flute in her hand long forgotten. Where was Michelle? Surely she would be there soon...

Her question was to be answered only moments later as Laura gave a low whistle. "Wow, someone pulled out all the stops tonight."

As she turned it was immediately obvious to whom Laura was referring. Michelle was radiant. Her dress was the same dark red colour Tabitha had seen her wear before, but the dress itself was unfamiliar, strapless, with a fitted bodice and hitched skirt that almost reached her knees but due to its style afforded the occasional tantalising flash of thigh. She'd curled her hair, which hung in wild spirals about her face in a way that looked utterly unstudied but had almost certainly taken ages, and her simple black heels were as high as Tabitha had seen Michelle wear, to the point where she was quite impressed that she was able to walk in them at all let alone employ that delicious swing of her hips with every step she took.

Tabitha stared openly as Michelle made her way to the nearest waiter and plucked a glass of champagne from his tray. "Wow," she managed to murmur eventually, earning an amused look from Laura.

"Sickening, isn't it?" she said. "Mind you, you're looking lovely tonight yourself."

"Uh, thanks." Tabitha had chosen trousers today, slim-fitting black to compliment the white-on-white arrangement of her shirt and suit jacket. It look vaguely chef-like, which she supposed had been her aim, though the wide V of her neckline and slight cleavage was not something she would have worn in the kitchen, nor would she had let her hair spill down her back as she was tonight.

"Nearly went for trousers myself tonight so I could avoid heels, but I don't have your height on my side..."

"Mm, sure. Hey, excuse me, will you?" Tabitha then broke away from Laura's side and headed, not towards the newly-arrived producer but instead through the crowd towards the kitchen.

 

Michelle watched the other woman making her way across the restaurant from her vantage point near the main entrance. Tabitha moved through the crowd like a cutter through water, smoothly making a path through what seemed sheer force of will. The suit was perfectly tailored for her tall, shapely frame, accentuating her curves without losing the impact of its sharp lines. The long hair down her back was already winding its way into the wavy tresses it always fell into if not kept carefully in check and Michelle realised that she was making a fist, imagining the other woman's hair gathered in her hands.

Tabitha disappeared into the kitchen; Michelle knew she must be nervous about the night's meal, prepared by the newly-hired staff, with the exception of Fiona, who had been brought over from 24a in a perhaps surprising but well-deserved promotion.

Resisting the urge to follow her, Michelle instead moved across the floor to take her place by Laura's side. "Hey you," she said, "you look lovely. How's it been going?"

"Oh, fantastic - everything looks amazing, doesn't it?" The other woman asked, grinning.

"Stunning. How's Tabitha doing? I see she's escaped to the kitchen..."

"Yeah, Tabs is being Tabs... I'm sure she'll enjoy this place a lot more when everybody's gone home," Laura laughed. "But yeah, she's fine. You look incredible, by the way - were you planning on pulling or is that just going to be a happy accident?"

"Hah, thank you! No, I'm... considering celibacy, actually. My heart hasn't been in it lately," Michelle said. "I just... thought I should make an effort."

"Well, it certainly worked. Even Tabs' eyes nearly popped out of her head when she saw you."

Michelle's smiled lost a little of its mirth at this. "I'm sure."

"Anyway, you have to come meet this guy, he's amazing, I was thinking you might want to talk to him about a documentary..."

The other woman brightened a little at this. "Lead the way."

 

Tabitha emerged from the kitchen some time later, satisfied that everything seemed to be moving along smoothly under Fiona's direction. She didn't immediately spot Michelle and cursed herself for looking around like a lost puppy, forcing herself to march over to the nearest familiar face and strike up a conversation.

This turned out to be one of the production team from Tabitha, and it wasn't long before they were deep in a logistics discussions such that Tabitha barely even noticed when Michelle arrived at her side.

"You look lovely tonight," she opened.

"Mm, thanks," the chef said dismissively, though a moment later the voice registered and she started, turning quickly towards her. "Um, thanks, you.. you too, you look great, I mean."

Michelle smiled nervously. "So how're things?"

"They're... fine."

"Yeah?" Michelle nodded, smiling. "Um, great. That's great. How's the kitchen? I saw you... head in there."

"Yeah, it's... going okay." Tabitha grimaced. "Are you having a good time?"

"Absolutely," Michelle said, almost too sincerely. "You put together a really amazing opening night."

"Oh, it wasn't me... you know I'm no good at parties. No, um, Paul mostly put this together - and the planner."

"Still, I know you put the food together."

"Uh, well, really that was Fiona and her team..."

"Fine, okay," Michelle said in a slightly teasing tone, "I withdraw all congratulations."

Tabitha made a face, reaching out to give Michelle's arm a light shove. "Hey..."

"No, no, if you had nothing to do with this I'm not giving you any credit for it..."

Tabitha's fingers trailed across Michelle's bare arm slowly. "Well, maybe you can just leave my party, then."

Michelle sucked in a breath, glancing quickly up at Tabitha, her expression shifting briefly from playful to... something else, a look that was there and gone in a moment, leaving behind only a familiar tug somewhere deep inside the chef. "I let my taxi go," she said. "Might as well stick around for a bit."

"Ah, well... fine. But watch your mouth, Tait," Tabitha managed. A flurry of motion from the kitchen gave her the chance to step back. "They're serving - I should go. I'll... see you later."

"See you... later."

 

The food was delicious - hearty and rustic with just enough of an updated twist to keep it from being stodgy. Tabitha was unsurprisingly pulled into an animated discussion with several fellow restaurateurs and was unable to break away until dessert, when she managed to excuse herself and step outside for a breath of fresh air. She leaned against one of the kitchen walls, ignoring the urge for a cigarette and the even stronger urge to find Michelle and tell her everything.

"Be strong." Apparently she wouldn't need to find Michelle per se - the other woman was already outside, hands stuffed into the cunningly hidden pockets in her dress. She shot Tabitha a slight smile which, in the lamplight, looked supportive.

"What?" Tabitha asked, shocked. How could the other woman know how weak she felt right now?

"Don't make me forcefeed you nicotine gum."

"Oh... no, I didn't even bring a pack with me."

"Then I guess you're just going to have to use plain old strength of will, hm?" Michelle said, stepping a little closer.

"Yeah... I could definitely use some of that right now," Tabitha murmured, following Michelle's movements with her eyes.

"Just... don't. When you want to. Just don't do it," Michelle said with a shrug of her slim shoulders.

Tabitha raised her eyebrows. "You've never had an addiction, have you?"

"I guess that depends on your definition of addiction."

"Well, something you can't just... 'not do'. That's pretty much the definition."

"Believe it or not I do know how that feels," the other woman said quietly.

"Mm. Then you know what stupid advice that was."

Michelle frowned a little. "I manage," she said, in a tone that suggested she was a little hurt by... something.

"Yeah. Well, so do I, but it's not exactly easy." Tabitha swallowed, reaching up to run her fingers through her touseled hair.

"I get that," Michelle said, smiling tightly, nodding a little. "Hence... 'be strong'."

"Yeah..." The silence stretched out between them until Tabitha broke it by blurting "What is it?"

"Um. What's what?"

"The thing. You're addicted to. I've never noticed anything..."

"Oh." Michelle shook her head. "Never mind."

"No, what? What is it? All this time we've hung out together and you never told me..." Tabitha found herself getting more and more worked up, though she wasn't sure why. "Michelle, you can tell me. You can."

"Tabitha, don't do this..." Michelle sounded almost hurt, though Tabitha wasn't sure what she was saying that could be construed as hurtful - pushy, perhaps, but... "Let's not do this," she said, stepping back a little. "Don't make say it."

"What the hell? Michelle, I just want to know... if it's that important to you, why haven't you told me?"

The other woman began to look almost angry, now, and she squared her shoulders, standing up to her full height in her heels, though it was still a little short of Tabita in flats. "Is that what you want?" she said now, the challenge clear in her voice. "You want all of this to just explode? We just, what, jettison everything I've tried so hard to keep?"

"I don't understand!" Tabitha said, frowning. "You're not making any sense! What is it that you've tried so hard to keep, what is the thing you want to do so badly but can't?"

"For Christ's sake, Tabitha!"

"You call yourself my best friend! You said you loved me! Why the hell won't you just tell me?"

"I..." Michelle stared up at her for a long moment, and it was obvious that she was fighting some internal battle. Whether she lost or won it, her next words were a muttered "Fuck it," and then she closed the small gap between them, leaning up and kissing Tabitha, hard.

Tabitha went rigid in shock, unable to breathe much less think, and then her hands were cupping Michelle's face and she was kissing her back, and an almost strangled sound escaped Michelle's throat as she opened her mouth against Tabitha's, tongue delving between her lips.

That beautiful dress was crushed against the stone of the building as the taller woman leaned in hungrily, opening her mouth and squeezing her eyes tightly shut as if she was afraid to open them. Michelle wrapped her arms tightly around her, breaking their contact briefly to suck in a breath before leaning up to kiss her again.

There was still noise from inside - the clink of glasses, the murmur of conversation - but it seemed to fade away until all Tabitha could hear was Michelle's gasp for breath and the feverish pounding of her heart in her ears. Michelle's hands didn't seem to stop moving - they had found Tabitha's lapels now and she pulled closer, deepening the kiss.

Seemingly of its own accord Tabitha's body reacted, leaning closer, her hips seeking the other woman's, grinding against them as she returned the kiss. Her stomach seemed to leap and drop at the same time, her hands almost shaking as they traced Michelle's cheekbones, her jaw, the smooth curve of her neck. Michelle moaned, but pulled back, then, gasping as their lips parted. "Jesus, I..."

But Tabitha didn't want to talk, didn't want to risk the chance that this was a mistake, a joke, anything but real. She leaned in again, almost desperately seeking Michelle's lips with her own, eyes squeezing shut once again to block everything else but the sensation of the woman before her.

Whatever Michelle had wanted to say could apparently wait, because she returned Tabitha's kisses willingly, deeply, her own eyes fluttering closed as her hands snaked up her lapels and around to the back of her neck, tangling in her hair.

It was this simple gesture that made Tabitha's knees grow weak and she actually wavered slightly, putting a hand out again the rough stonework to steady herself. Michelle's skin was flushed, now, her breath coming in slightly vocalised gasps between their kisses, hips shifting, and Tabitha felt a leg hook behind one of hers, pulling her closer, pulling her thigh between Michelle's.

The sensation that shot through her at this contact was almost electric, and she wondered fuzzily how she had managed to ignore this for so long. Crooking one leg slightly and resting her knee against the wall she closed the space between them, pinning the other woman against the wall with her body from shoulder to thigh.

"Oh, God..." Michelle gasped, letting out a strangled moan and then pulling back, properly this time, hands moving to Tabitha's shoulders to hold them apart. "Jesus, wait, Tabitha, please."

The other woman could do little else but stare down at her, wild-eyed, every muscle in her body tensed as if ready to lunge, or run away.

"If we keep going like this I swear I'm going to... there are people everywhere," Michelle said breathily, gazing up at Tabitha, her eyes darker than ever.

"I don't care," the taller woman murmured, reaching to draw a finger down Michelle's cheek almost wonderingly.

"Well, you might tomorrow after someone's snapped a picture and stuck it up on FWORD or TWORD," Michelle murmured.

This seemed to give Tabitha at least some pause, and very reluctantly she drew back, straightening away from the wall and Michelle.

"Tabitha, I, um..." Michelle hesitated. "I love you," she said.

The other woman appeared not to have heard her. "C'mon, I know somewhere we can go where no one else'll find us..."

"Hey, no, listen, wait..."

"C'mon." Tabitha caught Michelle's hand and tugged her towards the gravel path, and the shorter woman had little choice but to follow, wary in her heels and head spinning from what had just transpired.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see. This way."

 

They didn't have far to go. Tabitha led her down the path, voices receding behind them as they headed into the darkness, their way lit only by the flickering tea lights on either side of them. Soon the looming shape of the old farmhouse was before them and it was here that Tabitha turned, pushing open the front door and tugging Michelle inside. The film crew had used the farmhouse as a staging area over the past few weeks and there was still some scattered equipment here and there, along with some worn but serviceable furniture in the front room.

"I forgot about this place," Michelle murmured, taking in her surroundings.

"Mm, so has everyone else, hopefully." Tabitha smirked and led the other woman towards the couch, her fingers almost painfully tight around Michelle's hand.

Michelle nodded, letting Tabitha draw her down onto the couch, her body warring with her thoughts and resulting in a stalemate that left her compliant. The other woman leaned up almost immediately to kiss her, delving hands into her spiralled hair and running lightly across her scalp.

The instantaneous response of Michelle's body to this was enough of a shock that she was finally able to pull back. "Tabitha," she said again, her voice unnaturally hoarse, "please, hang on a second..."

"Don't want to," the other woman all but growled. "We've talked too much already..."

"Well I need to!" Michelle said now, an unpleasant clench to her stomach replacing the butterflies that had been there a moment ago. She found herself almost struggling to disentangle herself from the other woman's arms, suddenly too close, far too close for safety. "I can't just... do this," she said in a small voice. "I can't. Not now."

A flash of panic crossed Tabitha's face and she reached out, catching Michelle's hand and grasping it tightly. "No, no, wait, I'm sorry, I didn't mean... we can talk, please, talk to me..."

Still Michelle had that tight feeling in her stomach, but she turned back toward Tabitha, at least, and stopped pulling away. "Okay. I just... I need to know what we're doing here," she said.

"I don't know," the other woman blurted, that look of panic remaining. "I don't know, I never thought this would happen, I thought I was dreaming."

The other woman nodded slowly. "I see," she said quietly. "I'm, um. I'm not sure what that means."

"I wanted this to happen for so long that when it did..." Tabitha trailed off, pulling her hand back and reaching up to pull her hair out of her face. "I don't know. It doesn't feel real."

Michelle began to frown. "I don't understand," she said now. "All that time, you let me think..." She sat back a little running a hand over her face. "'msorry," she murmured. "I guess I'm a little confused."

"I let you think what?"

The other woman shook her head. "I don't know. That there was nothing like that between us, I guess. After New Year..."

"I know, I know, I just... was afraid of how you made me feel," Tabitha replied quietly, dropping her gaze to her lap. "And then I thought..."

"It's okay. I just... wish I'd known."

"Yeah, well... you kept talking about how much you wanted us to be friends, and I thought you knew, and, and..." Tabitha took a deep breath, looking up again, her eyes wide and shining. "I didn't want to ruin things. Again, I mean."

"No, of course not," Michelle said, though she didn't sound at all sure. "The way I feel... hasn't changed."

"You just want to be friends?" Tabitha blinked rapidly, turning away slightly. "Oh."

"What? No, no, that's not what I meant," Michelle said, almost lunging as she reached for Tabitha's hands. "It's been a long time since that was all I wanted from you."

"I don't understand."

"I want this. You. I don't know how else to say it."

Tabitha swallowed heavily, staring at the other woman disbelievingly. "Then what's wrong?"

"I don't know, I just..." Michelle shot the other woman a wry smile, lacing their fingers together. "I guess I feel like there's been some miscommunication, and I don't know how much. I'm not used to... I don't know. This."

"I don't even know what this is," the other woman said with a shake of her head. "So you're ahead of me."

"Well, that's kind of what I mean, I just..." Michelle sighed, closing her eyes for a long moment. "Maybe you were right. Maybe we should just be kissing."

She opened her eyes when Tabitha touched her cheek gently, taking in the other woman's earnest expression. "That's not what I want, Michelle. I mean... it is, -jesus- is it, but it's not everything. You know that, right?"

"I only know what you've told me."

"You... are very important to me," Tabitha said haltingly then. "And I want to be with you - around you, -near- you every second I can."

Michelle looked torn at this, hesitant for some reason. She seemed to wrestle with several responses before she settled on a gentle smile. "I guess that's good enough for me," she said quietly, leaning in to kiss the other woman again.

If Tabitha sensed any misgivings on Michelle's part she didn't let on, merely sighing with relied and closing her eyes as her lips met the other woman's. Michelle's kisses were less urgent, now, the explosion from earlier having burned down somewhat in the light of their conversation.

This lack of passion Tabitha did note, and she drew back eventually, looking almost hurt and wrapping her arms around her middle, crumpling her jacket. "You're right," she muttered, "we shouldn't do this. It's a stupid idea, I don't know why I thought I could..."

Michelle blinked. "I..." Her brows drew together. "I'm... sorry. I don't... Okay."

"You deserve so much better than me. You're perfect, and I'm just a fuck-up." Tabitha's voice was trembling now, but she went on. "It's just that I can't imagine being happy without you, and I want to make you happy, but I have no idea how, and I'd rather be miserable and alone than make you miserable."

The other woman's expression had been growing more bemused by the moment as Tabitha spoke, and she broke in now. "Tabitha. Please. Would you listen to yourself?" Michelle reached for Tabitha again, hands finding her shoulders, then sliding up to cup her jaw. "There is only one thing you would have to do to make me happy."

Tabitha's voice was a shaky whisper. "What?"

"Stop worrying about making me happy and think about being happy yourself."

In response to this Tabitha leaned in, placing a light, hesitant kiss on Michelle's lips. "That's easy," she murmured. "I just have to think of you."

Michelle couldn't help the smile that crossed her lips now. "Tell you what, then. You think of me, I'll think of you, and everything'll be fine?"

"Is that how it works?"

"Shall we try it and see?"

"Why the hell not."

This time when Michelle leaned in to kiss Tabitha, gently, she was smiling.

 

When they made their way back to the party a few minutes later it didn't seem as if their mutual absence had been remarked upon by too many people. Only Laura caught Michelle's eye, glancing at Tabitha - who seemed to be making the rounds of the room filled with nervous energy - and raising an eyebrow.

She didn't approach them, then - indeed, not until Tabitha disappeared back into the kitchen did Michelle see the other woman making her way across the room toward her.

"What the hell, Mish," she muttered as she reached the other woman's side.

Michelle just raised her eyebrows. "Um..."

"Either you were outside having the quietest catfight I've ever heard or you just got busy with Tabitha Harding!" Laura hissed, grinning.

"Don't, Laura. I really can't talk about it."

"Oh my God, you actually did! And about damn time, too."

"What?"

Laura grinned. "You're not that good an actress, sweetie. I saw you on-set with her."

The other woman made a face. "I'm a huge queer, Laura. Me thinking a woman is hot does not mean that we're going to-"

"Oh, it's not just the thinking-she's-hot thing - though my God do you fancy her. You like her. Against all odds you looked deep underneath and found a person worth liking. Pretty good going if you ask me."

The other woman gave Laura a long, serious look. Then she sighed, turning to look back over toward the kitchen - they could see outside through the side of the Glass House and then back through the window into the kitchen, where Tabitha was striding around tasting this, stirring that, congratulating and advising as she went. "Well, much good may it do me."

"Oh c'mon sweetie, she fancies you too, I know that. So why the long face?"

The other woman shrugged. "It's never that simple, is it?"

"Aw, you'll be okay. And hey, if it doesn't work out you can always sell the story to a gossip rag! Pretty sure they'd love something like this."

This didn't seem to provide Michelle with much comfort. "Jesus..."

"Kidding, kidding," Laura said, holding up her hands. "Just relax, sweetie, and try not to stress. Everything'll be fine."

"I really have no idea."

Laura raised her eyebrows and, obviously deciding that this was not a particularly juicy avenue of conversation to be pursuing, changed the subject. Tabitha eventually emerged from the kitchen and though she didn't approach the two woman she did send a shy smile in Michelle's direction before being caught by a wayward critic for what looked to be a quite positive early review.

Michelle's stomach flipped over, and she smiled in spite of her worries. Even a weird I'm not even sure what relationship would be better than none at all...

 

It was a late night for Tabitha - people didn't finally begin to drift out of The Glass House until close to midnight, and she of course had to stay behind after they left, first to debrief the new kitchen team and secondly to help with the cleanup of the not-insignificant amount of dishes the event had generated. She was buzzing throughout, her emotions a strange mix of elation, guilt, and nerves, and she knew that she earned more than one odd look before the night was out - not that she remarked on it particularly, being too caught up in her own muddled thoughts.

Michelle, of course, had stayed. She had initially tried to help clear up, but had been gently discouraged and was now seated at one of the cleared back tables, a glass of leftover champagne in front of her, just taking in her surroundings. Tabitha was all too aware of her presence; even when her back was turned Michelle was like a burning beacon, causing the chef to stumble over her words and fumble with dishes, nearly breaking several in the course of clearing up and washing.

Eventually she emerged from the kitchen, her jacket long-since abandoned and her sleeves rolled up above damp, reddened arms. She made her way slowly to the table where Michelle sat, feeling incredibly awkward and shy. "Hey."

Michelle smiled up at her a little tentatively. "Hey yourself," she said.

"Sorry that took so long."

"Don't worry about it."

"Do you, uh, want a ride back into town?"

That little smile again, a nod. "I'd love one."

 

The drive back through the dark country roads was surreal - neither woman spoke at first and the atmosphere within the car thickened as they headed for the city.

Eventually, Michelle cleared her throat, but she didn't speak, instead reaching out a tentative hand to rest it gently on Tabitha's knee - not in a provocative way, but in a gesture that seemed obviously intended to both comfort and to reforge a connection. The other woman didn't swerve off the road exactly, but she did start with surprise, glancing over at Michelle before tearing her gaze away and looking back at the road. A moment later as they hit a smooth stretch her hand drifted down to cover the other woman's, squeezing it tightly before relaxing.

Stomach fluttering, Michelle kept her gaze trained out of the window, her cheeks flushing a little. Tabitha's hand was cool over hers, her skin dry and slightly rough, presumably from having 'mucked in' on dishwashing duties.

The world around them grew brighter as they approached the city; they were leaving the safe cocoon of rural countryside and re-entering the real world. Tabitha's hand tightened over Michelle's again before she lifted it away, needing both hands to deal with the still-busy city streets. "You just want to be dropped off at yours?" she asked then, obviously struggling to keep her tone light.

"I, um..." Michelle hesitated. She very much wanted to just throw caution to the wind - No, take me home with you. Take me to bed with you. "That would be great, thanks," she said eventually.

"Okay. Do you..."

Michelle glanced briefly at her, though Tabitha's own eyes were trained out of the windshield. The other woman wet her lips briefly with her tongue.

"We should get together. Tomorrow. Or whenever you can, I mean."

"Um, yeah," Michelle said, nodding. "Absolutely. Whenever you like."

"Tomorrow?"

"Er, yes. When?"

"I don't know. Um, lunch? Dinner? No, damn, I can't do that... after dinner? Drinks? Or... you could come to mine?"

Michelle glanced over again at this. "Are you sure?"

This must've been the wrong thing to say, for Tabitha immediately looked uncertain, braking too hard at the light and then looking over at Michelle anxiously. "Um. I don't know - do you not want to do that? We could meet out instead, I don't mind, whatever."

"No, no - I mean..." Michelle made a face, now, brow furrowing. "I'm sorry," she said. "I meant that I'd like to do that," she said. "I just... don't want you to feel obliged... in any way."

"Oh."

"Shall I come over around eight, then?"

"Yeah. I mean, sure, eight's good," Tabitha said, bobbing her head and then looking away quickly as the light began to change.

"All right. I'll bring some wine or something."

"Great."

With another smile (which of course Tabitha couldn't see), Michelle fell silent once more, finally removing her hand, though with a reassuring pat to show that it wasn't due to anything Tabitha had done or said. Not long after they pulled up outside Michelle's building; Tabitha put the car into neutral, shifting to look at the shorter woman once more.

"Well, um... goodnight, I guess. I... don't really know what to say about tonight."

Michelle nodded, looking down from Tabitha's face, and then back at her, her expression slightly shy once more. "Maybe we... don't need to say anything just yet?" she suggested.

Looking relieved, Tabitha nodded, reaching up to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah. Okay."

This time, Michelle was careful not to hesitate before she leaned in to place a light kiss on Tabitha's lips. The other woman returned it readily, looking faintly sheepish as Michelle drew back perhaps before she was ready to. "Well. Goodnight."

Michelle smiled a little, and nodded again. "G'night. Listen, if you want to talk, about... anything. Call me, okay? Any time. I know this... I know things have changed."

"Sure."

 

Tabitha didn't call that night, or the morning after. It wasn't that she hadn't been tempted - God knew there were a hundred things she wanted to say to Michelle, a thousand questions she wanted to ask, but somehow she couldn't bring herself to. The more time that passed from that strange and surreal evening they had shared the more she became convinced she had imagined it all, and so it was with some shock and wonder that she opened the door the next evening after the buzzer went to find Michelle there as she had promised, wine in hand.

"Uh, hey," Tabitha murmured, a fleeting smile crossing her lips. "You made it."

Michelle smiled shyly in return, bobbing her head. "As you see," she said, holding out the wine.

"Yeah, well, um... come in," Tabitha replied, taking the wine and then stepping back into the hall.

"So how was dinner?" Michelle asked as she followed the other woman through into the lounge.

"Oh, God... horrible. A bunch of marketing execs who want to put my name on some readymade meal line - not even something I get to develop, a bunch of stuff that's just sitting there waiting for a famous name to slap on it." Tabitha made a face, waving for Michelle to take a seat. "I can't believe that's the way they actually do things."

Michelle chuckled as she sat down. "I take it you told them to get stuffed?"

"More or less."

"Christ, the nerve of some people..."

"Yeah, well, I'm sure they'll find somebody to take it. They were offering a lot of money." Tabitha struggled briefly to open the wine, nerves making her clumsy, but eventually managed to pour two glasses, carrying them over to where the other woman sat. "Thanks for bringing this."

"Hey, you know me and red wine - best friends forever. Wouldn't go anywhere without it," Michelle quipped, then, "Thanks," as she took the glass.

Tabitha hesitated, then took a seat next to Michelle, the leather sofa squeaking as she did so. She felt sure her nervousness must be obvious and muttered a curse under her breath, frowning. At this, the other woman, leaned over to place her glass onto the coffee table before turning toward her, reaching for her hand.

"Oh, um..." Tabitha stared down at their clasped hands, feeling her cheeks begin to burn. "Sorry. That wasn't... about you."

"Not even a little bit?" the other woman said with a faint smile, reaching to cup Tabitha's jaw with her free hand, thumb skimming across her hot cheek.

If Tabitha had even known the answer to that question it fled her now at Michelle's touch and she lifted her gaze, dumbstruck. She knew she was making a fool of herself but suddenly didn't care - Michelle was there, smiling at her, touching her. What else could she want?

"Shall we... put on a film or something?" Michelle suggested idly, and Tabitha couldn't help but notice that the other woman said nothing about 'watching' said film.

"Uh, sure, I think there's some in the drawer..."

 

They'd settled on something they'd both seen but enjoyed; a slick enough but not-terribly-challenging drama containing well-groomed Americans that Michelle only appeared to be paying vague attention to as they settled down on the couch together to watch it, glasses of wine in hand.

Tabitha made an attempt at watching the opening scenes, though the wine was long since forgotten as her other hand was currently resting lightly on Michelle's knee and that alone seemed to require most of her attention. She couldn't recall ever having felt this way before - almost like she was ill, with the light-headedness and clammy hands and racing pulse of a bad flu.

Eventually, it seemed, Michelle was prepared to put her out of her misery, and she shifted a little closer, turning her head and tipping her chin up to press a gentle kiss to Tabitha's lips. Relief shot through her, closely followed by something else, and with that Tabitha turned, tipping her head and shutting her eyes tightly. Humming quietly under her breath, Michelle let her mouth open a little, her own eyes fluttering closed.

Her hand slid up Michelle's thigh almost of its own accord as Tabitha returned the kiss; a moment later she stretched her arm out to deposit her glass on the coffee table, Michelle pulling back slighly to do the same before leaning in for another kiss, slipping her arms around Tabitha's neck, fingers weaving into her hair.

Just as it had before the action sent a shiver straight through her and Tabitha gave a noiseless gasp. It wasn't that she had never been kissed before - though she certainly didn't have a very long dating history - but it had never made her feel like this before. Everything that Michelle did, every small movement, every noise seemed to resonate deep inside her, making her feel at once heavy and light, and perhaps Michelle felt similarly because the occasional little hum or gasp would escape her throat now and then, creating a sort of feedback loop in the other woman.

Tabitha wasn't sure how long they continued - the movie was still playing in the background, though she had lost track of it completely - before she pulled back, opening her eyes and taking several deep breaths in an attempt to clear her head.

Michelle opened her own eyes to stare up at her, cheeks flushed, lips parted, resting back against the cushions and it was now that Tabitha realised she'd borne the other woman down onto the couch beneath her at some point. This realisation alone made her stomach flip and she squirmed slightly, which only brought her closer to Michelle.

"God you're gorgeous," she murmured, drinking in the other woman's expression.

Michelle seemed to take a moment to find her voice. "I, um..." But she trailed off, then reached for Tabitha again, pulling her closer, bringing her legs up onto the couch and weaving them with Tabitha's. There seemed to be little point to continuing the conversation after this, and the taller woman happily leaned in, shutting her eyes and pressing her lips to Michelle's once again. The brunette seemed perfectly happy with this, for now, at least, shifting to get comfortable and resting her hands on Tabitha's hips. There was a tiny voice in the back of Tabitha's head - didn't they have things to talk about? - but it was easy enough to push it away with Michelle's warm lips working their way along her jawline and down her neck.

There would be time later to talk. For now, this was more than enough.

 

Michelle bit her lip, tipping her head back as Tabitha's teeth and lips made their slow ascent of her neck toward her sensitive earlobe. The other woman's hands travelled up her sides, thumbs grazing across the underside of her breasts and drawing a quiet hum of approval from her throat.

This is getting ridiculous.

It wasn't that this wasn't nice - it was, extremely. It was just that after a certain amount of 'nice' she got the urge to move on to 'naughty', and so far there had been very little of that. In fact, there had been none of that.

Thinking back to that night outside the kitchens, Michelle knew that had she not stopped the other woman, Tabitha would have made love to her then and there with no thought of who might see them. But since that initial frenzy of passion, it seemed her nerve had deserted her somewhat, and that night remained the furthest they had gone.

Michelle was sure that the other woman felt just as strongly as she did, with her silent gasps ardent kisses. Whenever things got too serious, however, Tabitha would eventually pull back, mumbling her excuses and making a quick exit that left Michelle frustrated and aching for release.

As she shifted now, slipping a leg between Tabitha's, hands resting firmly on her hips, she could already feel the other woman beginning to lose her nerve, pull back slightly, force herself to slow down.

-Not again.- Michelle wanted to move slowly, respect Tabitha's boundaries, be supportive of her as she learned how to deal with what were undoubtedly new and confusing feelings. She wanted to do all these things, but she also wanted to have sex with her, and if that didn't happen soon she thought she might go insane.

Part of her wanted to offer her help - advice, comfort, reassurance - but then she knew about Tabitha's pride, and felt sure that if she made mention of the other woman's ongoing hesitation, acknowledged it, she'd push them back further still.

So she bit her tongue, and tried to tamp down her libido whenever it go too much to handle. She tried to now, but she still felt a flair of need and longing surge up as Tabitha pulled away, reaching to straighten her shirt and sweep the loose hair back from her face. "I really can't stay late, I'm sorry, it's just the rehearsal dinner tomorrow and I've still got a lot to do to prepare for it..."

This part, though, I've had enough of. "Why don't you stay?" she asked now. "Just to sleep," she added quickly, "I mean, I'm really knackered, so..."

Tabitha hesitated, eyes flicking to Michelle's face and then away again. "I can't. I've really got to go."

"Really?" Michelle said, her tone a little significant now. When Tabitha met her eyes once more her expression was almost grave. "Please, Tabitha. I just... want to wake up beside you. That's all. I promise."

"I'm sorry," the other woman muttered with a shake of her head, pulling away properly now. "I can't."

Michelle exhaled all at once, shrinking back a little as Tabitha moved away from her. "Right," she said. "All right." Her attempt to sound casual was as pathetic as it was obvious.

"I'll see you tomorrow, at the dinner, and we can come back here after," Tabitha was saying now, stooping to put her shoes on.

"Um, sure - I mean, maybe. I don't know if Katie or Stu will need me. I'll, um, let you know?"

Tabitha stood, looking down at Michelle with a mixture of guilt and regret on her face. "Sure," was all she said, and a minute later she was gone.

Michelle slumped back into the cushions with a sigh as the other woman made her exit. Usually, when Tabitha left in a hurry, Michelle would satisfy herself alone. Tonight she didn't even have the emotional energy left for that.

 

The next day was busy - Tabitha spent most of the morning at the market with Fiona, buying fresh produce for that night's rehearsal dinner as well as the wedding meal the next day. Though she tried to focus her thoughts seemed destined to stray to Michelle and the look on her face when Tabitha had left the night before.

It wasn't as though she'd wanted to go, exactly - and it wasn't that she hadn't believed Michelle when she'd stated her intention to go to sleep. It was the fact that she didn't trust herself to be able to lie next to the other woman all night and not act on it. She was having a hard enough time keeping her emotions and urges under control without testing them like that.

So why couldn't she just... do it? What was it that was stopping her, every time?

Fuck, if I knew maybe I'd be able to fix it. Frowning down at the punnet in front of her, Tabitha tossed the tomato back in, knowing she had probably bruised it and not caring. She could feel Michelle slipping away, and if she didn't get her head straightened out soon it might be too late.

 

The rehearsal dinner was near-perfect - not without the odd glitch, both behind the kitchen door and on the other side of it, but all-in-all had it been the wedding day it would not have been a disaster.

Tabitha of course had tried to catch a moment alone with Michelle, but either the other woman was too busy or she was avoiding her, and they seemed to just miss each other on several occasions.

When she finally did find a moment alone with her, Michelle, it seemed, couldn't be away fast enough. "Oh, I'm sorry, by the way, but it looks like I'm going to need to head back with Stu this evening. You don't mind, do you?"

Tabitha felt her stomach give a twist. "Oh, um, no, that's fine... I guess you guys probably have a lot to do for tomorrow."

Michelle made a face. "If I'm honest I think he just wants to get plastered. I sort of want to keep an eye on him."

"Yeah. Sure."

"So I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"Uh huh. At the wedding."

That slightly tight, almost sad smile. "At the wedding."

Tabitha thought that she had seen the last of the Taits after Michelle had hurried back to the dinner, but it seemed that was not quite the case. She stepped out back with a bag of rubbish later that evening only to nearly run into Stuart, who it seemed had been loitering in the back yard, looking as if he was deep in thought.

"Oh, uh, hi," she said, raising her eyebrows slightly. She hadn't had many dealings with Stuart since that night in the alley and still remained suspicious of him, especially now that she and Michelle were 'involved'.

He glanced up at her, looking suddenly guilty. "Um. Hello."

"Just getting some fresh air?"

"Yeah, I guess. You?" His eyes flickered to her hands.

"Just... rubbish." She lifted the bag into the bin, trying to ignore the feeling that this had been some kind of ambush.

He nodded. "Right. Um. Okay."

"Is everything okay?" she asked then, turning back to him. "With the food, I mean."

Stu hesitated, then, out of the blue, blurted out, "I'm sorry. For the things I said before - back that night. I was being overprotective, and I was an arse."

"What?"

"I was wrong. About you. You're not... I mean, maybe you are dangerous, or unstable or whatever, I don't know. But you're not responsible for Michelle; she is. And I should never have tried to keep you apart."

"Oh." Tabitha blinked, glancing around herself before looking back to Stuart. "Thanks, I guess."

"Just... don't break her heart. Okay?"

"I... wouldn't. I won't."

Stuart nodded, looking a little intense, now, though he couldn't seem to meet Tabitha's eyes. "She's never been in love before," he said. "I've never seen her like this before."

Tabitha swallowed, unsure whether to be glad or terrified or both. "Like what?"

"I don't know. I just... I'm her brother," he said eventually. "She's in love."

"Oh. And you're not going to tell me to stay away?"

"Not if you feel the same."

"Of course I do," Tabitha blurted, eyes wide. She stopped then, the words running back over her. Of course I do. Jesus. Why haven't I told her that yet?

Stuart nodded slowly, finally looking up at her. "All right," he murmured, then straightened. "All right, then."

All Tabitha could do was nod, her expression sincere if somewhat shocked looking as the young man shuffled past her back inside, leaving her alone in the garden.

Her first instinct was to run and hide. Her second instinct was to find Michelle. Her third instinct, and the one she followed, was to force herself to calmly walk back inside to finish cleaning up. This was not the time or place for heartfelt confessions. Not that Tabitha had any clue what was the right place and time. She only hoped she would recognize it when it happened.

 

The wedding was, of course, beautiful - Katie and Stu both looked lovely, the service outside on the serene grounds surrounding the Glass House was pitch perfect and the Glass House itself was finally displayed in its full glory for the dinner and reception. The food was perfect as well - Tabitha had worked tirelessly with Katie to perfect the menu, using simple but wholesome recipes to complement the classic feel of the afternoon, and as the guests began to leave the tables and mingle with one another, the wine flowing and the music beginning, more than one conversation was about the venue and catering.

If Tabitha had been paying any attention to the conversations she might have been pleased, but she had spent most of the day watching Michelle and didn't seem to have eyes (or ears) for anything else.

Though she'd threatened to, Michelle hadn't worn a tux in the end, instead wearing a dress that at once constrasted with and complimented those of the bridesmaids. She was in a rich teal colour, full length, with a slashed neck that highlighted her neat figure without overwhelming it.

She performed her best man duties flawlessly, buoying up her brother as he waited nervously at the altar, and later giving a speech that had the entire party in stitches as she took credit for setting up the two newlyweds by commissioning a film those many months before.

It seemed to Tabitha, though, that in moments of calm, moments when she wasn't occupied with conversation, or food, or dancing, the moments of space between the activity, Michelle was pensive, preoccupied - almost sad looking.

It made her want to push past the merry wedding goers and take the other woman in her arms, but she knew she couldn't. For all that this was her restaurant, it was Stuart annd Katie's night, and she was just the help.

Still, Michelle was for the most part cheery - obviously happy for Stuart and surrounded by friends and family, all of whom seemed utterly charming to the point of perfection.

Tabitha felt the familiar curls of jealousy at seeing such a happy, well-adjusted family laughing and celebrating with one another; it wasn't that she resented Michelle in any way for having that, but she did feel a distinct lack of it, like a limb that had been severed long ago and yet still gave phantom pangs. She shouldered the feeling aside and tried to focus on finishing the night out calmly, hoping to finish her work and catch Michelle before things wrapped up completely.

Weddings, of course, have a habit of not finishing at all unless someone stops them, even with the bride and groom long gone, and indeed it wasn't until the bar shut, around an hour after it legally ought to have, that the crowds finally began to thin.

The kitchen had been more or less finished for some time now, and Tabitha had let the cooking staff go home, waiting behind to supervise the remaining cleanup herself. She waited until she saw Michelle say her goodbyes to a boisterous group of cousins and then break away before working up her nerve and crossing the floor to catch her by the arm.

Michelle didn't start - obviously she'd realised Tabitha was approaching, and she turned to smile up at her as the other woman arrived by her side. "Hey you," she murmured, her tone fond. It seemed she wasn't upset with Tabitha right now, at least.

"Hey," Tabitha said, trying to keep her voice light and pleasant. "You, um, look amazing tonight."

"You're not so bad yourself," the brunette replied with a deferential bob of her head.

"Um, thanks. Hey, listen - I really need to talk to you. When you can, I mean. But tonight."

The other woman raised her eyebrows. "Tonight?"

"Um. I guess not, if you're busy..."

"No, no, I can, I just... I thought you would be."

"What? No, I've been done for ages."

"Oh. Well. Then we can talk whenever you like," Michelle said. "D'you want to sit down?" she added, gesturing toward the corner table she'd been nominally based for the evening, which still had a half-full glass of wine sitting upon it.

"Um, sure," Tabitha said, nodding and following the other woman to the seats. Michelle waited for her to sit down before taking a seat beside her, close but not intimately so.

"So," she said quietly, taking a sip of her wine before offering it to Tabitha.

The other woman accepted the glass, taking a small sip. She certainly hadn't expected to have to talk about this here, now, and she found that she had no idea what to say. "So. Um. Jesus..."

Michelle looked mildly perturbed. "You wanted to talk tonight I thought," she said. "Do you want to go somewhere more private?" Her words carried something not unlike a warning in them, as though Tabitha were going to be judged somehow if she answered in the affirmative.

"Uh, no," Tabitha said, shaking her head and looking down at the table. "I just. Feel like maybe things are a bit weird right now and I think it's my fault."

The other woman didn't say anything.

"I'm sorry about the other night. And the nights before that. I know... things haven't gone like you're used to."

Michelle's expression flickered a little at this. "Like I'm used to," she repeated.

"I just mean... with the people you've been with before."

"None of this is anything like any of the people I've been with before."

"Yeah, I know. And I've never done anything like this either, and I think maybe I've fucked it up."

"Oh, honey..." Michelle said, frowning a little. "No. Don't think that."

"No, it's okay," Tabitha said with a quick shake of her head. "I wasn't expecting to be some kind of genius at it. It's like... you know those people whose legs don't work, and they've never had a chance to even get up and walk around? I feel like I'm one of those people, and suddenly my legs work and I'm supposed to run a marathon."

The other woman nodded slowly. "I do understand that," she said.

"And it's been really hard. I'm not trying to make excuses, I just wanted to say that, so you know that I know. And... Jesus, this is really hard. I probably sound like an idiot."

"You don't sound like an idiot."

Tabitha's lips tugged downwards into a frown, but she continued nevertheless. "You've been so patient with me - not just recently, but always. And I don't know why, I think you might be slightly insane, but I'm glad you are because even though this has been the hardest thing I've ever done in my life, it's also been the best thing I've ever done. Better than getting out of my fucked-up family, or leaning to cook, or opening the restaurant... this means a lot to me, and I want you to know that."

Michelle's expression flickered at this - it was almost as though she felt a momentary pain. Realising Tabs hadn't missed it, she sighed, and shrugged. "I know it's been you that's said this before, but I will now. I don't know what 'this' is."

"Oh." Tabitha blinked, as if she hadn't considered the question before. "I guess I mean being in love with you," she said simply then.

Michelle did start, now, her lips parting a little in her shock. "I... um..."

Immediately Tabitha's heart began to race; had she said the wrong thing? Had she misread Michelle's affections, misremembered the words burned into her mind from the launch night? "I'm sorry. If you don't want me to talk about it I won't. I just... needed to tell you at least once. So you knew."

"No, I just. I... Christ, I..." Michelle shook her head, but at the same time her face spread into the first genuinely delighted smile Tabitha had seen from her in weeks.

Tabitha reached for her hands, suddenly wanting to be as close to the radiance off that smile as possible. "Is everything okay?"

Michelle's fingers wrapped tightly around Tabitha's, and she managed a nod. "I'm fine. Amazing, actually. I love you too - I love you so much," she said now, the words spilling out as naturally as if she was suggesting a cup of tea.

"Oh. Wow..." A laugh bubbled up inside Tabitha; a few lingering people glanced over at them but she didn't care. "I guess you really meant it, huh?"

Michelle leaned closer, now. "Every time."

"I wish I had told you earlier..."

"You've told me now."

"Yeah. And about the other thing..."

The other woman nodded her tentatively onward.

"Will you come back to mine tonight?" Tabitha asked almost shyly.

Michelle bit her lip. "Sweetheart, you don't have to... I can wait. I will wait. I promise I-"

"I want you to. Come home with me. Please." Tabitha's voice was suddenly husky; she gave Michelle's fingers a tight squeeze and the other woman felt as though a spark moved from their joined hands right through her.

"All right," she near-whispered. "Take me home then."

 

The drive back to Tabitha's was several things: surreal, overshadowed by impatience, and conducted at far too fast a pace. The other woman's hands clenched the steering wheel until her knuckles were white, and Michelle couldn't tell if it was from nerves or anticipation.

Michelle herself could feel the butterflies in her stomach threatening to become snakes, although on balance her desire to be closer to Tabitha overshadowed her fear that things could go wrong somehow.

The two women made their way upstairs silently; Tabitha fumbled with the key before finally getting the door open. They spilled inside and then turned to face each other uncertainly.

"Do you want... a drink?" Tabitha asked, tipping her head towards the kitchen.

Michelle hesitated, clearly considering her answer carefully. Eventually she shook her head. "Not really," she murmured. "I'm dizzy enough as it is."

"Okay. Well, um, then..." Tabitha's eyes flicked to the barely-visible couch in the lounge. "I guess we should..."

The other woman bobbed her head a little. "Whatever you like," she said.

"Sure..." Tabitha led the way into the lounge, perching on the edge of the sofa and reaching to nervously straighten the coasters on the coffee table.

Michelle herself seemed reluctant to take the initiative in any way, sitting gingerly down and glancing in Tabitha's direction. "We don't have to... anything," she said now, careful to keep any note of reluctance or criticism from her voice.

"Mm," the other woman said, blinking several times and wetting her tongue with her lips. "Could you... turn around?"

At this the other woman looked mildly bemused, and for a moment it seemed she might argue. But then she just nodded, and obliged.

After a moment she felt Tabitha's fingers brush the nape of her neck, sending a shiver over her skin, and then the other woman lifted her hands and began to deftly remove the cleverly-placed hairpins that Michelle had forgotten were even there, holding her 'updo' neatly in place.

Michelle sighed, pulling her lower lip between her teeth as she enjoyed the tiny ripples that Tabitha's fingers sent from her neck all the way down her spine.

Once most of the pins were gone Tabitha began to work her fingers gently through Michelle's hair, running along her scalp as she hunted for any remaining pins. There was nothing inherently sensual about the task and yet somehow it was more intense, more intimate than some of their kisses had been, a familiar warmth spreading from Michelle's stomach as she leaned into Tabitha's touch.

The other woman must have noticed this movement for a moment later she shifted and Michelle felt the press of her lips on the bare skin of her shoulder, and there was no mistaking Michelle's response to this, as she gasped quietly, tipping her head back as Tabitha trailed delicious sensations in the wake of her kisses.

Tabitha's lips sought Michelle's neck as her fingers trailed down her back, hovering over the zipper of her dress for an agonizingly long moment before she began to tug it downwards, parting the fabric ever so slowly. Michelle had to resist the urge to help shrug the dress off, anticipation coursing through her as she felt a blush begin to spread across her cheeks.

Tabitha's lips followed the trail of her fingers down the other woman's spine, taking each new inch of flesh slowly as if she wanted to savour it. Eventually she straightened, fingers brushing the small of Michelle's back as she leaned in, once again kissing her neck as she pushed the garment off her shoulders.

Michelle shivered again, though this time from more than arousal in the cool air, her skin raising in instant goosebumps, her small nipples instantly puckering. The other woman slipped her arm around Michelle's middle, hand splaying on her stomach and then inching upward. She could hear Tabitha's breath catch as she neared the curve of her breast, her hand giving a small tremble before moving to cup it fully. Michelle's answering moan caught in her throat, and she leaned more fully back against Tabitha, feeling the other woman's warm, clothed front against her back.

She felt rather than heard Tabitha's echoing gasp, her shaking fingers circling around Michelle's sensitive nipple and then brushing over it with the lightest of touches, and Michelle closed her eyes tightly against the sensations assaulting her.

"God, Tabitha..."

The other woman froze for a moment, as if taking Michelle's words for an admonishment, but as Michelle arched her back and tipped her head back she grew bolder, leaning in to nip at her earlobe, fingers teasing and stroking her breast more ardently.

Michelle couldn't just sit and submit passively to this any longer and so she turned her head, then, to catch Tabitha's lips with her own. It was no surprise when Tabitha opened her mouth against Michelle's, her body pressed against her back.

It seemed to Michelle as though their kisses had never been so deep or so desperate, Michelle fighting for breath, heart now racing, the throb between her thighs almost an ache as the other woman contined to tease at her sensitive nipple. Eventually Tabitha broke away, staring at Michelle with flushed cheeks and eyes dark with desire. Without a word she slid her other hand down her stomach, watching the other woman's expression as her fingers settled between her legs and then pressed against her in one firm movement.

Michelle gasped in shock and arousal, her eyes shutting tightly. "Jesus..." her hands reached for something, anything to hold onto, one finding and gripping Tabitha's forearm, the other coming to rest on the back of the sofa, steadying her. She felt Tabitha press against her again, her forearm tense, her body rigid. The other woman's breath was hot on her ear as she began to curl her fingers against her rhythmically, and all too quickly the sensations began to build to the point where she had to slide her hand to grip Tabitha's wrist.

"Wait," she gasped, and she turned around, then, leaning in to kiss Tabitha deeply before pulling back to gaze in awe at her. "Take me to bed," she said.

 

Tabitha's bedroom was dark and cool, the large bed immaculately made and the pillows perfectly arranged. They tumbled down onto the pristine sheets in a tangle of limbs and nearly-discarded clothing, though Tabitha was still fully dressed as she rolled over to kiss Michelle deeply on the lips.

Michelle didn't seem satisfied to let the current situation lie, however, immediately beginning to fumble with the buttons of Tabitha's shirt, at the same time trying to kick off the dress that was now gathered around her hips. The other woman, distracted at first by their embrace, eventually pulled back, her hand catching Michelle's as she gazed down at her uncertainly.

"What's wrong?" Michelle asked gently, though the eagerness to continue was apparent in her slightly tensed muscles.

"Nothing, I just..." Tabitha let out a tense breath, shaking her head. "This is new. That's all."

"We don't have to... I just... I want to see you."

"Oh." After a long pause the other woman nodded, pulling her hand away and reaching to stroke Michelle's cheek, and Michelle, fingers trembling slightly now, continued to ease Tabitha's shirt unfastened, gazing up first into her eyes, and then at the new landscape of soft curves and planes that was revealing itself before her. The biggest surprise was the lacy black bra that was revealed as Michelle tugged the shirt open, far fancier than anything she had imagined the other woman wearing - and she had imagined quite often.

Forcing herself to relax, to take her time, Michelle carefully, gently untucked Tabitha's shirt from her pants, before sliding her hands around to the small of her back, fingers slowly trailing up her spine as she lifted herself from the bed to touch her lips to the other woman's collarbone. She felt the shiver that ran through Tabitha's body, her skin prickling from the sensation and the cool air of the bedroom. The other woman tipped her head back,eyes shut tightly against the sensations Michelle was causing in her, and Michelle had to check herself again, remind herself again to move slowly, all the hesitation she'd felt back at the Glass House that first night replaced by the eagerness that Tabitha had felt then. Guess we swapped...

Eventually she divested Tabitha of her shirt, tossing it to one side and tracing her fingers over the other woman's now-bare skin. Tabitha shivered again, then dipped her head, pressing her lips to Michelle's in an insistent kiss. Michelle returned it with enthusiasm, tongue delving between the other woman's lips as her nimble fingers eased open the catch of her bra. Though she could still sense Tabitha's reluctance she didn't pause until she had undone the clasp; after a moment the other woman shrugged the garment off of her own accord. Michelle leaned back onto her elbows as Tabitha discarded the bra, ostensibly to support herself but of course also affording herself of a good view of the sight that was being revealed to her, and it was with a plunge of arousal deep inside her that she took in Tabitha's full, shapely breasts, lily white, impossibly smooth, peaking at light pink nipples that were already puckering in the air.

"You're perfect."

The snort Tabitha gave was almost enough to spoil the mood, though Michelle could see her cheeks grow pink even in the dim light of the room. "Really, Tait..."

"You're perfect, and I love you," Michelle said decisively, lifting her lips to Tabitha's again.

This seemed to be enough to override any further protests, and the other woman slid her arms around Michelle's waist, pulling her closer as she deepened the embrace. Their bare skin made contact, and Michelle moaned quietly, the sound muffled against Tabitha's lips, and she wrapped her own arms back around her, letting the taller woman take some of her weight as she wove their legs together.

Tabitha's hands smoothed over Michelle's back, never pausing more than a moment before moving on to trace the curve of her side or the sweep of her hip. She had seemed nervous to begin with, but as the seconds ticked by her nerves seemed to be slowly replaced by a growing ardor as her kisses grew deeper and more insistent.

Did Michelle dare to do more than 'see' her? Whatever her intentions, Michelle's own hands seemed to have a mind of their own as she drew back a little, fingers slipping up Tabitha's spine and across her ribcage, marking out each rib, hands grazing closer and closer to the other woman's breasts until they stroked across their underside. This time there was no mistaking the shiver that ran over the other woman's skin; though Tabitha was silent there was a look of pleasure in her eyes as she gazed down at Michelle, who took this as wordless permission to continue, tracing a light spiral up across her breasts, hands mirroring one another, pulling her lower lip between her teeth as she concentrated, again, on taking things as slowly as she could bear. Tabitha didn't seem to appreciate how hard this was as she rocked forward slightly, pressing her breasts into Michelle's hands and letting out a soundless gasp.

"Christ..." Michelle's patience, at least temporarily, deserted her, then, and she cupped the other woman's breasts fully, feeling her taut nipples tickle her palms as she leaned up and kissed Tabitha again, deeply, desperately, eyes shutting tightly as her hips lifted a little of their own accord. Tabitha let out a long sigh, shifting slightly until her still-clad leg came to rest firmly between Michelle's legs. She rocked forward again, this time pressing against the other woman more firmly, and Michelle couldn't help but move against her, another moan stifled against Tabitha's mouth. Those nimble fingers openly explored the other woman's skin, now, thumbs flicking provocatively across her nipples in tandem with a touch of her tongue to Tabitha's.

It wasn't long before the other woman was writhing above her, her nerves obviously forgotten in the face of this onslaught of sensations, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to Michelle to begin to slide one of her hands down the other woman's smooth stomach to the fly of her trousers. Tabitha didn't flinch back, instead pressing her hips forward as if eager for the other woman to proceed, and that was all the signal Michelle needed - after a moment of fruitless fumbling she just moved her hand down beneath the waistband, her wrist snugly but not too tightly held against Tabitha's stomach as she slid her fingers inside the other woman's underwear, finding her slick and wet and ready. Tabitha shuddered, her hair falling down around their faces as she leaned down to capture Michelle's lips in a desperate kiss. Michelle lost no time now in orienting herself, beginning to circle her fingers slowly, teeth catching the other woman's lower lip as thumb and forefinger closed around her nipple, rotating with incredible delicacy, contact feather-light.

Breaking the kiss, Tabitha squeezed her eyes shut tightly and pressed her forehead to Michelle's, her hips moving in tandem with the other woman's fingers, and the smaller woman didn't resist, shifting to gain a better angle, her speed soon beginning to increase in response to Tabitha's reactions. The other woman was still silent, and it would have seemed strange but for her obvious ardor, her fingers curling against Michelle's bare skin, her thigh pressing firmly and rhythmically between her legs. The temptation to just ride it out was great - Michelle knew that it couldn't be long before Tabitha would come, but something made her hesitate - she didn't want it to be this way. Shifting a little, she pulled her hand back, bringing her hands to Tabitha's shoulders and pushing gently. "Roll over, yeah?" she murmured. "Onto your back?"

It seemed Tabitha was in no fit state to argue and she quickly and clumsily complied, a nervous expression creeping over her face as she settled back against the pillows and Michelle moved to lean over her, dipping her head to kiss along her collarbone and down across the soft skin of her breast. The other woman lifted a hand, running her fingers through Michelle's hair and tipping her own head back with a sigh. As Michelle's mouth found Tabitha's nipple she let out an audible gasp, arching her back and lifting her hips until they met the shorter woman's.

"Jesus Christ, Tait," she groaned softly.

This seemed to be some sort of signal as far as Michelle was concerned, because she pulled back, then, sitting back onto her feet to unbutton Tabitha's fly properly this time, motioning with a tug for the other woman to lift her hips again to allow her to pull her trousers off. She complied, shivering as Michelle impatiently slid her trousers off and tossed them to the floor. Michelle's intentions became all the more obvious as she eased Tabitha's long legs a little apart, enough to settle between them as she touched her lips briefly to the other woman's nipple again before beginning her slow descent, kisses soft and damp down her taut stomach.

She could feel Tabitha's tenseness, the rigidity of her limbs as she smoothed a hand over her hip and thigh. The other woman seemed torn between nerves and desire, her body responding to Michelle's touch even as she lifted her head to look anxiously down at her. As Michelle finally came to rest, easing Tabitha's knees bent, slipping her arms beneath, pressing a kiss to the other woman's inner thigh she looked up at Tabitha, her expression desirous, eyes dark with arousal but more than that, with love. She raised her eyebrows in a final silent question.

Tabitha swallowed, then gave a slight moan of impatience, dropping her head back to the pillows and gathering the duvet in her hands. Michelle finally dipped her head, kissing along the other woman's inner thigh, her mouth eventually finding its mark, tongue immediately delving as deep as it would go.

"Fuck!" Tabitha's body went stiff, her back bowed and her legs rigid as her hands clasped the blanket beneath her.

Fighting against the smile that would prevent her from performing as she'd like, Michelle proceeded to explore Tabitha, her experienced lips and tongue quickly learning every one of her most intimate curves, learning where her most sensitive spots lay. Through it all the other woman writhed and muttered curses under her breath, seeming to almost fight to stay prone on the bed as waves of pleasure washed over her, growing more intense until it was all she could do just to draw one shallow breath after another.

Eventually Michelle seemed to settle on a rather more focussed rhythm, fast, insistent, hands smoothing up the other woman's stomach, fingertips brushing across the underside of her breasts but not quite able to reach any higher while Tabitha was arched back in pleasure. It wasn't much longer until Tabitha was driven to her peak and she gave a strangled cry, her body taut and vibrating as the waves crashed over her. Michelle's hands flattened against her stomach, providing resistance as the other woman's hips bucked of their own accord, and the strokes of her tongue grew longer, slower, and at last lighter as she felt Tabitha begin to come down a little, still trembling and spasming slightly as the younger woman pushed herself up and virtually crawled up her body to kiss her, lips slick and salty-sweet.

"Jesus fuck," Tabitha gasped when at last their lips parted, reaching to pull the other woman against her as tremors ran up and down her limbs. "What did you do to me?"

Michelle raised her eyebrows. "Do you need me to show you again?" she asked huskily. "'Cause I can do that..."

"God no, I think I'd die..."

"I'm sure you'd pull through," Michelle said, shifting to rest less weight on Tabitha, smiling and dipping her head to kiss her lightly.

The other woman sighed, eyes fluttering shut as she returned the kiss. "You're incredible," she murmured, her fingers stroking Michelle's side. "No one's ever... I've never felt like this before."

"Me neither."

It was only when she felt Michelle squirm slightly under her touch that Tabitha opened her eyes, lifting her head to peer over at the other woman. "Oh God, you must..." She trailed off, her voice suddenly thick as her fingers brushed over the waistline of her pants

"It's okay," Michelle murmured. "You don't need to..."

"Like hell I don't," Tabitha replied, rolling onto her side to face the other woman. "I need to. I need to touch you."

Michelle certainly wasn't going to argue with this, and she turned to find Tabitha's lips with her own again, hips lifting a little in invitation as the other woman slipped her fingers under her pants and began to tug them down over her hips and thighs. As they finally threw the last item of clothing that separated them onto the floor, Michelle turned toward Tabitha and immediately slipped a leg between hers, wrapping her arms tightly around her and burying her face against her neck, breathing in deeply.

Tabitha's fingers moved over Michelle's skin, tracing the curve of her side and hip before skating tentatively over the sensitive skin of her stomach. As her hand dipped lower and Michelle drew in a shuddering breath, arching into her touch, it occurred to her to think for a moment how strange it was that they had ended up here, of all places, before her mind deserted her and left the way open for sensation alone to take over.

 

"Did I say that you're amazing?"

"Yeah, you have. A lot, actually."

"Not often enough yet, I suspect," Michelle said, pushing up onto her elbow to lean over Tabitha, gazing down at her adoringly. "You're amazing," she added.

"Oh shut up," Tabitha groaned good-humoredly, rolling over to press her face into her pillow to hide her grin. "You're ridiculous."

"Mm-mm," Michelle replied in the negative, shaking her head seriously before leaning down to kiss Tabitha again. "God, I can't believe we just... I never thought we'd get here."

"Never?" the other woman asked, raising an eyebrow.

"All right, mostly never. Only in my wildest dreams."

"But you went out with me anyway."

Michelle smiled a little. "I'm in love with you," she said. "I was prepared to take whatever you had to give."

"Or not, as it were. God, Tait, if Stu hadn't said something last night..."

The other woman's brows drew together at this, and she pulled back slightly - though her arm was still wrapped firmly around Tabitha and it seemed she just wanted to see her better. "Stu? What did Stu say?"

"What? Oh, just that... I should stop being such an idiot and tell you how I felt," Tabitha replied, shrugging. "It was a damn sight better advice than he gave last time."

That furrow deepened. "'Last time'?"

Michelle's expression seemed to finally make its way into Tabitha's pleasure-addled brain and she blinked, then leaned up to kiss the other woman. "Doesn't matter. We're here now."

"Did he... warn you off?" Tabitha's expression told Michelle everything she needed to know. "I'll fucking kill him."

"Hey, no, listen, calm down..."

"He had no right. When was this?"

"A while ago. Listen, Tait, please... don't do this."

But Michelle was apparently unwilling to let this go, for she rolled over away from Tabitha onto her back, frowning at the ceiling. Frowning, Tabitha lay with her cheek against the pillow, looking over at Michelle pensively before pushing herself up on her elbows.

"He did it because he cares about you. Because he loves you and he didn't want to see you get hurt. You can't be mad at him for that."

"Oh yes I can."

"Well, you shouldn't," Tabitha said, frowning. "He's your brother, Tait. Of course he's going to do stupid things, but only because he's trying to protect you. And I know you don't need him to," she said as the other woman started to speak, shaking her head. "But still. You're lucky."

Michelle turned to look at her, her expression softening a little. "I know." She sighed. "I know," she said again. "I just... Jesus, I could kill him..."

"Well, unfortunately he's going on his honeymoon tomorrow, and you're staying here with me. So it'll have to wait."

"I've a good mind to call him now."

"Don't you dare - it's his wedding night!"

"That's not what's stopping me."

"What's stopping you?"

A little smile flickered across Michelle's face. "I don't think I could get out of bed right now. I don't want to be away from you. Ever again."

Tabitha grinned, finally, and reached out for the other woman. "Then get over here."