Martin ran down the corridor and outside into the car park where he saw Bronagh walking to her car.
"Bronagh!" He called, feeling light-headed again, she turned around,
"What?" She muttered.
Martin walked up to her and looked into her eyes, "what happened to you?! Bronagh you've been sending yourself those messages, you crashed into us.. Bronagh what's going on?" He asked her, but she just burst into tears.
Martin wrapped his arms around her, feeling awkward and very confused. He looked up at the hotel window where the band was looking out.
"Hey.. sit down." He told her, opening up the front seat of her car and letting her sit down. "What happened, Bronagh?"
Bronagh sniffed and wiped her eyes, "m-my husband died last week."
"Oh Bronagh I'm so sorry.." he told her, taking her hands.
"No.. no it's stupid.. I've been thinking a lot of you, because you lost your wife just less than two weeks ago, and you just bounced right back again. And I just needed to see you.. I drove down two days ago and followed you from the hospital today, I'm so sorry I crashed into you- I- I wasn't concentrating, I came here to check if you were okay.." she cried.
Martin sighed, looking down, "Yeah we're all fine." He said,
"I saw blood on the window.. I thought- I thought-"
Martin brushed his hair back and showed her the cut at the top of his forehead. "It's alright." He told her, "do you have somewhere to stay?"
"M-my mother has a house a couple miles away." She said, still hysterical.
"I'll drop you there." He said, helping her out of her destroyed car and into the passenger seat of the van.
He sat down in the driver's seat, quickly neatening everything up but knowing that right now Bronagh didn't care. He was pretty sure she was drunk.

He turned on the engine and drove back towards the road, "you tell me what ways to go." He said, looking to her.
"L-left." She said, trying to wipe her endless stream of tears.
He nodded, doing exactly what she said.

"Should he be driving?" Asked Cloda, looking out the window at Martin who was driving away in the van with Bronagh.
"Nope." Said Zoe, lying back on the bed and gazing out the window. She felt sick, and thought that if she moved she would just throw up. She wanted Martin: she wanted his warm arms around him to keep her safe, but she knew that Martin didn't want to be with her, and she knew that they couldn't.
The door knocked again, Zoë didn't move, she just curled up even more, feeling so sick.
Ollie stood up again and opened the door, a man handed him three more keys, he thanked him and walked back inside.
"Are you okay, Miss?" Asked Ryan, seeing Zoe's pale white face,
"Y-Yeah.. I might just have a rest for a while. It's half four now- go out at half six?" She offered,
"Sure." Said Jemma,
"Could you leave the door on the latch so Mr McCafferson can get his keys?" She asked.
They nodded, picking up their bags and instruments before leaving.

"H-how long am I gonna be like this?" Asked Bronagh, sitting in the car beside Martin, sobbing.
"I don't know, Bronagh." He replied, just wanting her to be gone.
"But you lost your wife and didn't miss a day of work!"
"That's because I was off for three months before that." He justified, "take the rest of the year off. Go on holiday with some of your friends or something. I dunno just do something."
"But you didn't have to do anything!" She complained,
"What do you think this is?" He asked, "I wanted to get away! I couldn't stand being in that house alone anymore. It's just my selfishness that booked everything so soon after Emily died, I should have waited till we had more information on Ryan, or after Lucy's mum passed away, I just did it for myself."
Bronagh looked down, "Are you over them yet?" She asked,
Martin hesitated, "I don't think so." He told her.
"Will you ever be?"
Martin shook his head, "No."

After a long period of silence, Bronagh directed him to her mother's house. She stepped out of the car and he watched her unlock the door and enter the house before he turned back and drove towards the hotel again, wondering how he was so oblivious to her complete despair in their last phone calls.

When he made it back to the hotel, he knocked on Zoe's door before realising it was unlocked.
"Zoe?" He called, opening the door slowly and seeing her lying on the bed, her eyes were open and she gazed up at him.
"Hey." He greeted, sitting down on the bed beside her. She looked awful: her red eyes contrasted with her porcelain skin and her lips were moist. "God you look really unwell, have you had any paracetamol?"
"I ran out." She whispered, closing her eyes again, "look you should bring the kids out on your own tonight, I'm really not up for it."
Martin took out some tablets from his jacket pocket and a water bottle. "Can you sit up?" He asked her, putting a hand behind her back.
She nodded, slowly trying to shift herself up. He moved her pillows behind her and helped to support her as she took the tablets.
"You still look beautiful." He told her, brushing the hair off her face.
"I don't feel it." She replied, her eyes heavy, "I didn't think we were together."
"We're not. But that doesn't stop me from telling you that you're the most beautiful woman I've ever met." He said,
"Now you're bluffing." Said Zoe, smiling at him,
"Nope, I'm pretty sure it's true." He replied, wrapping his arm around her neck and sitting beside her, looking into her eyes.
"Well you're not so bad yourself." She replied,
"Because we're just friends.. does that mean I can't kiss you?" Asked Martin, leaning in with desire.
"Yes." Rejected Zoe, putting her head down and nudging his neck with her nose and lips, "But you can lie here with me instead."
Zoe turned her back to him and Martin lay down behind her, his body touching hers. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and slipped his hands under her jumper, massaging her stomach. He ran his fingers down her abdomen, making her tense up as his hands reached higher to her chest and his legs intwined with hers.