Joe sat idly at the glass table in the kitchen, a cup of hot chocolate cooling in front of him.

Glancing at the clock, he felt an irritation sweep through him, there was still no sign of Graham. It had been over 12 hours since the ambulance had left and he had heard nothing. He didn't know whether to be grateful or annoyed.

He picked his phone up from the table and dialled again, slamming it down in annoyance as he once again reached Graham's voicemail.

He sighed deeply and wondered what he should do, he couldn't take much more of this waiting, the longer it went on, the more obvious it became that Graham was choosing Laura.

He gritted his teeth in annoyance at even thinking such thoughts. It sounded so childish and petulant to categorise it as "choosing". It was like being back in the schoolyard, picking your friends and dictating to others who they could be play with.

They were adults and she was his wife, it was ridiculous.

And yet, Graham was the nearest he had ever had to a "true" friend. He knew he could rely on him, trust him, confide in him. And in return, he had repaid Graham many times over. They were friends in every sense of the word.

So, why did he hate his so-called friend's wife so much?

That was a question, Joe didn't like to answer. He had to admit, he had never liked Laura. He always felt she looked through him, as if he wasn't even there and that irritated him. He had always been used to women fawning over him, practically throwing themselves at him, yet Laura had barely given him a second glance. She obviously only had eyes for Graham.

When he first employed Graham, it had annoyed him to find out that his newest protege was married. Women, he had found, were a nuisance, a distraction and stood in the way of good business.

As he boosted Graham through the ranks, increasing his pay significantly each time, he felt and noticed Graham's loyalty grow. And, as his loyalty grew, Joe noticed his devotion to his wife begin to slip.

He would be in early each morning and not leave until late at night, always stopping off at the pub for a drink on the way home.

Joe had to admit he took great satisfaction at the thought that Graham's work commitments would undoubtedly be causing strain to his marriage.

Joe continued in this vein, giving Graham more and more responsibility, ensuring he did things his way, and as a result ensuring he had Graham's unfaltering loyalty.

Joe had realised at an early age that he hated sharing. It was a pointless exercise. How many times had he heard, "Joseph, share your sweets with the other boys!" How many times had he been told, "Share with your cousin, Joseph! She's only little."

Why should he share something that was his? He had never shared and he wasn't about to start now. He wasn't about to share Graham.

With each job, Graham turned further to drink, much to Laura's annoyance.

Graham had always enjoyed a drink, hell when he first spotted him cleaning floors, down on his luck, he had been nursing one hell of a hangover. For a time, he had reduced his drinking, but with each job, his need to drink increased.

It gave Joe a rather unpleasant pleasure at how this was affecting his marriage. Graham would confide about the blazing rows he had had with his wife, how she had stormed out of the house, or thrown him out, only for them to crawl back to each other with vows to change. It was a cycle that repeated frequently.

Laura had made her disdain for Joe evident, which in turn annoyed Graham and made Joe chuckle to himself in satisfaction.

Then, she had become a bit of a liability. Graham was now so loyal and indebted to Joe, that he took Joe's side.

Finally, Joe realised he had to be rid of the woman once and for all.

Seeing her packed off by immigration had been his crowning moment, and even when Graham had raged at him about his actions, the older man still didn't have the bottle to break away from him.

And now she was back, and it frightened Joe a little at how quickly Graham's manner had changed, how quickly he ran to her beck and call. Even with Joe repeatedly reminding Graham of Laura's actions in the past, it still didn't seem to have been enough to keep him from his wife.

He picked up his phone again and was about to dial, when he heard the front door click open.

"About time, Graham!" he called, getting to his feet. He strode purposefully into the hallway only to see not Graham, but his younger brother, Noah.

The boy stood awkwardly, hands stuffed into his pocket, cheeks pink with the cold and teenage embarrassment.

"Noah," he greeted in surprise. "This is an unexpected surprise."

"I thought we could hang out?" Noah said, his cheeks flushing further.

"Shouldn't you be at school?" Joe asked, narrowing his eyes, though his mouth twitched in amusement.

Noah shrugged, "Yeah, but it's double maths. I figured if I get there a bit late it won't matter. I can catch up."

"Well, tell you what, let's have some breakfast and then I'll run you to school, pancakes sound good?"

Noah's face brightened, "Yeah!"

Joe turned back into the kitchen with Noah trailing behind. "So, where's Graham?" the boy asked.

Joe bristled, but brushed it away, "Out," he answered enigmatically. "He'll be back soon, in fact, I'll pick him up after I drop you at school."

Noah shrugged as he sank into one of the chairs in the kitchen, "Cool," he said carelessly.

It was over an hour later when Joe dropped Noah at school, apologising to the school attendance officer who appeared as soon as Noah got out of the car. Joe gave the stern looking woman his most charming smile and explained Noah's lateness on a doctors appointment. When the woman questioned who he was and why his mother hadn't informed them, he had flashed her a dazzling smile and informed her he was Noah's brother and that his stepmother had a scatty brain at times.

Joe had winked at Noah, making the boy beam happily. As Noah walked into school he had glanced back, a look of admiration on his face.

"Easy," Joe muttered, getting back into his car.

Joe put the car into drive and held it on the handbrake, revving the engine several times before releasing the handbrake and screeching away down the road ignoring the 20mph signs.

He roared through the streets out towards the ring road that would lead him to the hospital.

He had an air of confidence about him as he parked the car and strolled towards the hospital entrance.

The sharp woman on reception was very unhelpful, she questioned him about his relationship with the woman he was asking about.

"If I said she was my mother, would you tell me?" he'd smirked.

The woman raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips, scowling.

"I'd say, guess again," the woman retorted. "The patient you are asking about is not available for visitors."

"Available?" he smirked. "I'm sorry, I thought this was a hospital, not a business meeting."

The woman scowled and turned away.

Joe rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically, it seemed he was losing his touch.

He turned away from the desk and looked around, a cafe was at the opposite side and he made his way to the counter, ordering two coffees that were handed to them in a paper cup, a suspicious murky water colour.

He had just stirred in some sugar in a vain attempt to make it less like pond water, when he looked up straight into the dark face of Graham.

He gave him a feigned look of surprise, "There you are! I thought you might like a coffee," he greeted the older man. He studied his right hand man and gave an amused frown, "Graham, you look like hell!"

"Why are you here?" Graham asked, his voice dangerously low. His face was ashen, a dark shadow of stubble evident around his jaw, his usual pristine hair looking dishevelled. He looked at the cup Joe held out in disdain and glared at it.

"I thought you must be exhausted and that you'd need a coffee. I also thought that you might need a lift back home, you look like you need the rest and perhaps a shower." Joe said, placing Graham's coffee down onto the stained surface in front of him.

"I'm not going anywhere," Graham said, his voice a low rumble.

"Graham," Joe sighed, "come on, don't be ridiculous. You haven't slept and quite frankly you look awful. You've done your bit, come on, let's get outta here."

Graham's jaw tightened, he looked away, "I'm not leaving."

"Oh, yes, where are my manners?" Joe said, taking a rapid sip of coffee, "This is quite terrible coffee," he commented. "So, how is she?"

"You could at least sound like you care," Graham noted.

"No really, how is she?" Joe asked again, toning his voice to attempt sincerity.

Graham looked away, his face darkening, "She's going to be alright."

"There you go! See? All good! Come on Graham, don't get yourself too involved here, it won't end well. We also have a lot of work to do, but like I said, you could really do with a shower and some sleep..."

"I said, I'm not coming. I'm staying here, I need to make sure she's alright."

"That's sleep deprivation talking," Joe nodded sagely. "She's fine, a few days and she will be back tormenting us with her Americanisms and threatening us. You'll wish she had died..."

Joe let the words trail as he realised just what was coming out of his mouth. Even for him, he knew it was low and uncalled for.

"Graham, I..." he began.

"Do you ever stop and think about your actions or the things that you say?" Graham asked, his voice a new level of dangerous.

"I'm sorry...truly, I am. I was out of order, I didn't mean it how it sounded," Joe said, trying to sound calm and sincere.

"How did you mean it?" Graham pressed, stepping closer.

"You're making this into too big a thing. I didn't mean that I wanted her dead," Joe answered, stepping back slightly.

One moment, Joe was stepping back from Graham, the next he was being hauled by his jacket against the nearest wall, Graham's arm painfully against his throat holding him in place. Around them, people gasped in shock at the unfolding scene.

"Didn't you? Isn't that why you left her to suffer on the floor last night?" Graham snarled.

"What?" Joe gasped, gulping in fear and pain. "I did not!"

"She told me! You left her there to die," Graham increased his pressure against Joe's throat.

"She's lying! Confused! She was fine one minute, I called the ambulance."

"How long did you wait?" Graham demanded.

"I know, you're upset, it's understandable, but you've got this wrong," Joe said, his tone pleading.

"Gentleman, is there a problem here?" a security guard asked as he approached.

Graham shoved Joe to the side and released him, he straightened his jacket and turned to walk away.

"Thank you for the coffee," Graham called over his shoulder.

"Graham!"

"Go home, Joe."

"When will you be back? You're meant to be working!"

"I'm taking some of the many weeks holiday you owe me."

"Graham!"

Joe watched confused and angry as Graham walked away, leaving him alone. He looked around, checking to see if anyone had noticed, which of course they had, before straightening his jacket and striding as confidently as he could towards the exit.

He had just about got his nerve back when he saw a sight coming out of one of the Outpatients department that made him stop dead.

Debbie, with Sarah in tow, stopped also, her long hair trailing down over her shoulders, her mouth twisting into an annoyed grimace. She stuffed her hands into her pocket as she moved towards him.

"What' you doin 'ere?" she asked caustically.

"Getting a personality transplant?" Sarah quipped from Debbie's side, amused by her own sharpness.

Joe tilted his head and smirked, a brief acknowledgment at the girl's wittiness, he had to admit, she had a razor sharp mind, like her mother.

"No," Joe addressed Sarah, still smirking. He glanced back at the direction he had just come from and let his face fall, as if saddened. "I was checking on Graham,"

"Graham? Is he alright?" Debbie frowned.

"Oh, not him, it's his wife. She became very ill last night," Joe explained, a concerned frown on his face.

Debbie shifted on the spot, "Ill? Why, what's wrong with her?"

"Her heart, she has to take tablets, seems she left them in her bag and then misplaced the bag. She missed a few doses and it made her unwell."

"Is she gonna be alright?" Debbie asked, her face controlled, but with a hint of awkward concern crossing her features.

"Errr, yeah, I think so," Joe said, as if he wasn't entirely sure.

"That's sad, it's horrid bein in 'ospital," Sarah said, a look of genuine concern on her face.

Debbie turned to Sarah, "Babe, go and get something from the caff, I won't be a moment."

Sarah took Debbie's purse and walked away, Debbie and Joe watching her. As soon as she was far enough away, Joe turned back to Debbie.

"And is she alright?" he nodded towards Sarah's disappearing figure. "I take it that's why you're here?"

"Like you care!"

"I do actually, last night, seeing Laura so unwell...it's...well knocked me a little."

"You were there?" Debbie asked with a frown.

"I called the ambulance," Joe nodded, looking away as if the memory was too bad. "Laura and I might not always have seen eye to eye, but I wouldn't wish last night on anyone."

"Well, I'm sure she'll be fine. I'd better go," Debbie began, unnerved by the conversation and the expressions playing out on Joe Tate's face, she started to walk away. "And she's fine," she added, "Sarah, I mean."

Joe gave a sad smile, "I'm glad," he said before turning and walking towards the exit. As he stepped out into the cold morning air, he smiled to himself.

"Like takin medical insurance from a little girl..." he smirked to himself.