This is set on the evening Carla was attacked by Anne. It seemed a big gap in the storyline, so I couldn't help filling in my version! Hope you enjoy and feedback is much appreciated!

Pushing his pizza around his plate, Peter sat back contentedly. He loved seeing the happiness on his son's face as he picked off a pepperoni slice and sipped his giant lemonade. After all the dramas, it was good to have some father-son bonding time. He couldn't remember the last time they'd both laughed so much.

"Bet you don't wish you were at Deirdre's now, eating those chops.." he teased.

Simon paused, pretending to weigh up the options, then answered with a wide grin.

"This is the best!"

Only a few simple words, but Peter felt a weight lift from him. He'd been worrying all week about the murder case and Leanne's plot to take Simon from him. How could the woman he'd once loved turn on him so vindictively? Maybe he shouldn't be shocked she'd use his weakness as a weapon against him. But couldn't she have found another way to take her revenge?

Shaking his head, he concentrated on enjoying this time with Simon. He'd been catching up on all his news from school and all the inside gossip from Ken and Deirdre's. Simon seemed to have had a fairly calm week, relatively unscathed by all the fall-out: his drinking, Frank's murder and the false confession. What a stupid idea that had been, he thought, furious with himself. Carla had been right: he was an idiot! He'd only made it worse for her and now everyone hated him too.

Watching Simon happily eating his last slice of pizza with as much enthusiasm as the first, Peter felt a rush of gratitude for his family's support. However begrudgingly it was given, however much guilt-tripping came along with it, at least they were there for Simon when it mattered. Silently Peter promised himself he wouldn't lean on them any more. Even if the worst happened, and Carla went to prison, he'd be there, sober, taking responsibility for his son.

As Simon took his final bite, putting his knife and fork carefully on the plate as he'd been taught, Peter couldn't help but smile at him. Noticing a look of mischief on his face, Peter wondered what he was after now. Then he noticed his son's eyes were fixed on the other side of the restaurant, where the ice cream buffet was.

Peter laughed. After the last few weeks, he could hardly begrudge him a treat now.

"Go on then mate."

"Really?" Simon asked gleefully, then before Peter changed his mind, he ran off to help himself.

Peter glanced again at his phone, wondering why Carla hadn't texted. Hopefully she'd had got his note and was making the most of an evening to herself. After the funeral she probably needed some space. She was so upset about Frank's murder, and despite all their efforts, she was still prime suspect.

Looking at the final pizza slice with diminished appetite, he decided to get it wrapped up to take home for her. A treat to make up for leaving her alone all evening.

.

A moment later, Simon returned, sitting down eagerly opposite Peter.

"You're an all right dad after all you know!" he said cheekily, digging his spoon into the overflowing bowl of ice cream and marshmallows.

Peter knew he was just joking, probably not even thinking about his outburst in the Rovers, but the memory set his nerves on edge.

When Simon had screamed that he hated him, it felt like a physical blow. Or even worse, as it hit his whole body and mind at the same time. With the eyes of the whole pub on him, all his painfully built layers of self-esteem had shattered. Publicly humiliated, his business threatened and Carla struggling to cope, he'd sought solace in the only place he'd ever truly found it.

But as always the comfort of drinking was an illusion. Then the look in Carla's eyes as she'd discovered the truth made him feel even more worthless.

A sudden urge hit him to make things better. He realised he should apologise to Simon. Still, he toyed briefly with letting the moment pass: the familiar easy option. Simon looked happy now. They could just act as if nothing had happened and get back to everyday life.

Then his dad's face flashed into his mind. Ken didn't know how often his cutting words got through to him: not that Peter would ever let on. His father's blame wounded him so often and so deeply. "Disappointment doesn't even begin to cover it" had been the latest judgement. And while it drove him to whiskey that night, it also gave him the impetus to sort himself out.

.

Putting both his hands on the table, Peter decided to talk properly with Simon. Surely an apology was better than pretending everything was normal.

"Si.." he began hesitantly.

Simon looked up from his ice cream, a slight frown on his face.

Peter reached forward, placing his hand over his son's. He looked disconcerted, maybe feeling too old for hand-holding, maybe annoyed at the interruption to his pudding. But at least he didn't back away.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you the last few days" he said sincerely. "I've been dealing with a lot of stuff."

He wished suddenly that he'd asked Ken and Leanne a bit more about what they'd already told him.

"And you know me" he added, trying to make a joke out of it. "Pressure and me don't really suit."

As a sulk came over his son's face, he knew he'd handled it wrong.

"I know" Simon murmured angrily. "You were drinking again."

Peter looked down at his plate. How had it reached a point where he couldn't even meet his own son's eyes?

"Yeah I was" he admitted. "I had a weak few days...". Then looking up, he said firmly "I'm OK now though. I've stopped."

"How do you know you won't have another weak day?" Simon's voice was barely audible over the noise in the restaurant, his lack of trust all too clear.

"Well…" Guilt-stricken but determined to reassure him, Peter wondered what to say about the past week. "You know there was that man Frank.. a bad man, who hurt Carla? He hurt both of us."

Simon nodded, as Peter wished he was doing anything but having this conversation.

"He tried to cheat Carla out of her factory last week. And we were both really upset. And that's why I was drinking". Then with a firm voice, he added. "But Frank's gone now. He can't hurt us any more."

There was a pause, as Simon thought hard before speaking again.

"Amy said you hurt Frank."

Peter winced. He'd hoped that had stayed secret.

"I promise you I didn't." he insisted, squeezing Simon's hand. "Someone attacked him. He'd made lots of enemies so we don't know who. But I promise you it wasn't me."

He almost mentioned Carla too, but didn't want to plant ideas in Simon's mind. He'd finally believed Carla when she insisted she hadn't done it. If only he'd trusted her earlier. He just hoped the legal system gave her the chance to prove her innocence.

Simon seemed a bit calmer, but his frown still hadn't faded.

"How do I know you won't drink again?" he asked sadly, fidgeting with his ice cream spoon.

Peter closed his eyes. The hardest question at all.

"I can't promise I'll never be tempted Si" he admitted. "But I promise I'll be strong.. I won't let it happen again. Carla's helping me stop. Just like Leanne used to. And I'll be at the AA group too."

Peter wished he could guarantee his promise, longing for something simple he could say to set his son's mind at rest.

"Is Carla OK?" Simon finally asked, his voice small.

"She's fine now." Peter tried to mask his gratitude that Simon cared. Even just a bit.

"It's not my fault is it?" As Simon spoke timidly, he rubbed his eyes and stared down at the table.

"No love." Desperate to comfort him, Peter reached over, ruffling his hair. "Don't ever think that."

"But I was nasty to her.. And I shouted at you.." Simon said, his face scrunching up with emotion.

"Well.. " Peter thought carefully. "Some of the things you said weren't so nice. But none of this was your fault."

Simon nodded slightly, still looking uncertain.

"Look Si.. " Peter continued. "You've had so much change lately. You didn't ask for any of it. And I know you miss Leanne."

He sighed, regretting the mess everything had become.

"I wish it could have been easier for you and I don't blame you for being angry. But next time eh," he caught his son's eye. ".. just tell me how you feel and I promise I'll listen more. OK?"

"OK" Simon replied. His expression seemed brighter now, although Peter realised he'd have to do a lot more to win back his son's trust.

"Deal?" Peter reached out his hand.

"Deal." As his son shook his hand, Peter felt some of the huge pressure on him lifting.

With that, Simon picked up his spoon and carried on with his ice cream, and Peter smiled, his eyes closing for a moment in relief that he'd begun to put things right.

.

Twenty minutes later, Peter had just paid the bill when he heard his phone ringing. Ignoring Simon's impatience to leave, he saw that the call was from Carla.

"Hi love" he answered, standing to put his jacket on.

"Don't worry Peter… I'm all right". Her voice sounded strange, echoing among the background noise.

"Worry about what?" he questioned, suddenly alarmed.

"I got away... she had a knife… Sally's hurt... But I'm OK." Her voice came in bursts, breathless, and he felt his panic rising. Was that a siren in the background?

"Carla… love" he cried, desperate to slow her down, to make sense of what she was saying. "What happened? Where are you?"

.