"You alright love?"

Oh God, not another one. I grunted and waved her away. Just another interfering...

"She looks in a bad way... should we call the coppers?"

"Nah." Another voice. Also a woman, but younger. She didn't sound as concerned though. Probably just concerned about getting out of the driving rain. "On drugs, probably. Or booze. Looks like a student to me. More than likely, round here. She'll be OK"

"Still though" The first voice again. "You going to be OK, love? Boy trouble, is it, maybe?"

I almost laughed. Instead, I just curled up tighter, buried my face into my knees and pulled my leather jacket further up over my head. Not that it was making much difference; the gusts of wind tearing down that canyon of a street were hurling sheets of rain into the doorway where I was huddled and plastering my hair even closer to my head.

"C'mon." The second voice again, and I heard their footsteps receding.

Fine.

So, Sian, time to take stock. Here I am, in an office doorway on Whitworth Street, one of those big old cotton warehouse buildings. As far as I'd got after staggering out of Canal Street and half stumbling, half running, in the first direction that came into my head. And after my legs buckled, and my gasps for breath became too much, and I couldn't stand the feeling of my heart pounding out of my chest any longer, I'd collapsed into this doorway as the skies darkened and the wind rose.

It had happened just a week before. I have to say, looking back, we'd been drifting apart. A few more niggly arguments, spending less time together, Sophie spending more time at work. But things weren't that bad, I thought it was just a natural way for our relationship to develop. I'd never, ever, imagined that we'd ever actually split up. I'd never, ever imagined us not spending the rest of our lives together. So naive.

So when Sophie sat me down at the Websters' kitchen table for a 'chat' I had no idea what was coming. And as Sophie spoke, softly, evenly, very controlled, it started to dawn on me. And my stomach churned.

"Are we breaking up?" I stammered, pathetically.

She avoided my horrified gaze. It was standard stuff, I suppose. She'd probably rehearsed this. Weasel words that sound good, make it sound like everything is actually OK, that it's no-one's fault, blah blah blah.

And then the anger started to rise, boiling up inside of me. I barked the questions at her furiously. Why? What have I done to upset you? Weren't we supposed to be together? We've talked about marriage, for God's sake! What was that all about if this was coming?

And then what I thought was a routine question, I guess I was just looking for confirmation of what I assumed, not expecting the answer I got. I was really expecting some more off-the-shelf responses about Needing Some Space or Thinking Things Over Lately.

"Is there someone else?"

Sophie stared at the tabletop. "Yes."

I was destroyed. At that moment, everything just seemed to fall apart, Nothing made sense any more. Angry tears dripped from my face onto the table, I tried to compose myself, hang on to some tattered shreds of dignity.

"So. How long?"

"About a month."

"Not hanging around then, are you?" I sneered. "Do I know her?"

Sophie screwed her eyes up tight. "Yes."

"OK then. Who, Sophie? I'll find out, you know I will, but maybe you'd like to tell me yourself? Eh? Don't you owe me that? Just a little bit of respect? Eh? No? Can't do it? Thought not. Coward."

I was actually snarling at her. And I hated myself for it. Oh, she deserved it, maybe. But I could hear echoes of the nasty, brutal arguments my parents had before they split up. I could hear that in myself, and I was shocked that it was coming out of me so easily, actually scared that this was just beneath the surface. I'd always consoled myself that I would never do that, convinced myself that I was better than that, but I wasn't. I was my Father's daughter alright. Vincent Powers, your genes live on.

Sophie took a deep breath. She whispered something very quietly.

"What? Didn't catch that, Soph. Sorry. Speak up, eh?" God, you can be an evil bitch when you get started, Sian Powers.

"Eva. It's Eva."

I sat back in the chair, stunned. "Eva? From the pub? Eva? Eva fucking Price? Are you joking me?"

"No. Yes. It's Eva."

I couldn't speak for a minute. Then, when I did, all that could come out was more bile.

"Well, I bet you just loved turning eighteen, didn't you? So you could spend lots of time in the Rovers. Result there, eh Soph?"

"Sian, please. I never..." I cut her off.

"Oh, just shut the fuck up will you? Spare me. You never what? Never wanted to hurt me? Never meant it to be like this?" Now I was actually using that babyish, sing-song voice my Mum used when taunting my Dad. Horrible, looking back on it.

I stood up abruptly.

"Bye then Soph. It's been fun."

And turned away, out of the door and over the road to the bus stop.

She didn't come after me. Or call after me, even.

Bitch.

After a week in Southport I was starting to feel almost human again. After I'd actually got some sleep - my Mum persuaded me to visit the doctor, and he gave me some Temazepam. That knocked me out, alright.

It was strange, looking back. I didn't cry at all, at first. Not while I was waiting for the bus, not all of the way back to Southport; nothing. Then I walked in through the door of my Mum's house, and my Mum asked me what was up, and the tears just exploded out of me. And they didn't stop for about three days. I was a complete sobbing, snivelling, shaking wreck that just lay in bed with the duvet over my head and wanted to die. I didn't sleep for days, and my poor Mum was at her wits' end. So I went to the quack in the end, and after taking one of his magic pills I slept for seventeen hours straight.

That set me up to cope a little better, and I started to pull myself together. I even started running on the beach; I preferred bad weather, when there was no-one else around and I could feel the chill batter me and the freezing air rip into my lungs until they felt as though they were shattering and my breath rasped. I ran till my legs felt as if they were on fire and the raw, icy rain coming in off the Irish Sea stung my face like needles. It felt - I dunno - cleansing, like I was exorcising something, flushing Sophie out of my system.

I was jogging back to the house after one of these sessions when I felt my mobile buzz in the pocket of my sweatpants. I glanced at the screen and couldn't help smiling.

"Hi, Seanie!"

"Hi, Sianie!" Our usual joke. "How're you doing lovie? We're all wondering about how you are after... well, you know..."

"Oh, OK I guess Sean. Well as can be expected. Getting myself together and all that."

Awkward silence. I was NOT going to ask how she was. Or after anyone else there. After all, I had no intention of setting foot on Coronation Street ever again. The parcel that had arrived with my clothes in it was pretty symbolic as far as I was concerned.

"OK. Well... look Sian, I was just wondering if you fancied meeting up for a drink?"

"Sorry Sean, I'm not planning to be in Weatherfield any time soon. I'm certainly not going in the Rovers." I snorted a humourless little laugh. "So it's very kind of you, but no ta."

"No, no, I didn't mean that" said Sean hurriedly. "How about Manchester? Saturday dinnertime? Trip to the big city for the cave dweller out in the sticks?"

I found myself smiling again, despite myself.

"OK... maybe. What did you have in mind?"

"It is time" said Sean with a portentous tone, "For you to get back in the saddle, young lady."

Which is how I found myself standing outside the Rembrandt on Sackville street. Sean and Marcus had wined and dined me, and filled me in on the most likely venues. Actually they'd emphasised the wining part of the wining and dining.

"I'm not sure about this, you know" I muttered. "Too soon really... " I was just thinking out loud.

"Nonsense, girl!" snorted Sean. "Like I said, back in the saddle. Know what that means? If you fall off a horse, you're supposed to ride one again ASAP, otherwise you think about things too much. Same principle, see."

"You've never been near a horse. You always say they're big horrible scary smelly things" said Marcus with a smirk.

"Nowt to do with it. It's the principle I'm talking about here, Marcus, I'm just illustrating the principle." He tutted.

And with a gentle shove in the small of my back, Sean propelled me onto Canal Street.

"Off you go, Miss Powers" he said. "time to enter the big wide world."

"Might see you later" added Marcus. "But we hope not." He winked mischievously.

Nervously I started along the street, wondering what the hell I was doing there. This was all completely new to me. Sophie and I had never had anything to do with the 'scene', apart from going to Pride of course. Sophie had only turned eighteen just before Christmas, and anyway we had no need; we had each other. But now, I supposed, I'd have to make an effort. Sophie coming into my life had seemed like a miracle, and maybe it was a bit much to expect that to just happen again.

Besides... I wasn't sure if this was some sort of psychological side-effect of the breakup but truth be told I was feeling incredibly randy.

Our sex life had, I suppose, declined pretty sharply over the previous six months or so. I hadn't realised quite how much I missed that part of our relationship; we were both working hard, and tired quite often, but still.

And one little vignette popped unbidden into my head that somehow seemed to sum up what Sophie and I had together at the height of our relationship.

It was, I suppose, about 18 months ago. I got home from College quite late after an extended stint in the library. The house was quiet, and after dumping my jacket and bag I called out for Sophie. I heard her shout from upstairs; she was in the bath. As I wandered into the bathroom - she always forgot to lock the door - Sophie flicked some bubbles at me.

"Oi!" I giggled. "You're in a mischievous mood."

"Maybe I am. How was College? Learn lots today then, Little Miss Einstein?"

I laughed, and squatted down next to the bath to kiss her.

"I quite fancied a bath myself. Shall I get in with you?"

"Oooh no Sian, I've been in here for ages, I'm starting to go really wrinkly! I'm getting out in a minute. You can get in after me if you like."

Sophie started to haul herself out of the bath.

I looked Sophie firmly in the eye and slowly started to unbutton my shirt. "Mmmm. OK then. Better get ready then, hadn't I?"

She stood there with the towel half around her, absent-mindedly drying herself as she watched.

I peeled off my shirt, then reached around to unhook my bra. I shrugged it off and made a show of reaching up to loosen my hair, elbows up high and pulling my shoulders back. I could see Sophie's nipples start to harden. She loved this - me topless and barefoot, just in skinny jeans... such a sexy look, she always said. After a couple of minutes I undid my jeans, hooked my thumbs into the waistband and hauled my jeans and knickers down together, making sure I shimmied my hips as I did so.

Sophie was staring at me, slightly slack-jawed. I actually wondered if she was going to start dribbling.

Then I said, "OK, see you downstairs after my bath then? Go and put tea on, there's a good girl" and turned around, reaching up to the top of the bathroom cabinet to get my scented soap down. I heard Sophie growl with frustration, then, "Oi! You little tease!" There was a crack and I jumped with pain and shock. Sophie had flicked her towel at me, catching me at the top of my thigh. I whirled around.

"That flamin' hurt!"

"Yeah, sorry, missed what I was aiming for. Went a bit low there. Mind you, not sure how I missed a target that size."

"Ooh, you cheeky cow! Right, that's it!" I grabbed another towel and retaliated, backing her up against the bathroom door. We were screeching with laughter, and when Sophie suddenly opened the door and made a break for it down the corridor, I didn't hesitate. I chased her again and soon she was backed against the wall at the top of the stairs. We didn't even think about the fact that we were both running around the house stark naked.

Sophie changed tactics, flicking her towel at my feet.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked, getting slightly breathless as I skipped over yet another flick.

"Making you jump, of course. So I can watch your boobs bounce."

"Oh my God! You pervy mare! Honestly!"

"And what about you then, young lady? That little strip show you did earlier? Where'd you learn that then, eh?"

I stuck my bottom lip out in a major pout. "I didn't learn it anywhere. It must just be a natural talent. Maybe I can get a part-time job, eh? Bring in a bit of extra cash?"

"Over my dead body, sweetheart."

"Ha!" I'd redoubled my towel-flicking efforts and was getting the upper hand. This time Sophie just turned and dashed downstairs and again without thinking I followed her; we ended up circling around the sofa in the living room, giggling hysterically. We'd reached a sort of truce, staring each other down with huge silly grins on our faces, when we froze.

Someone had put their key in the front door lock.

We stared at each other for about half a second, eyes and mouths wide open in horror, then made a dash for the stairs. I was on the side of the sofa nearest the stairs, so was first up. Sophie, rushing to catch me up, stumbled on the bottom step and fell heavily to her hands and knees. I scampered back down a few steps, grabbed her hand, and hauled her to her feet and up the stairs.

It was close. I think it was the day the new Gazette came out, and Sally fortunately had her head buried in the local scandal as she walked into the living room. If she'd cared to glance to her right, she'd have caught a glimpse of her younger daughter's bare backside disappearing up the stairs.

We sprinted on tiptoe - sounds weird, but it can be done, honest - along the upstairs corridor frantically shushing each other. Falling through the door into Sophie's bedroom, we collapsed on the floor, still giggling hysterically as we waited for the adrenaline rush to subside. We were sitting up, facing each other, and I noticed a familiar look appear in Sophie's eye as her eyebrow arched up and her giggling turned into that absolutely filthy throaty chuckle she had. We stared at each other for a second then, without a word, I bum-shuffled towards her and we slid smoothly together into the scissors position.

Sophie leaned over and kissed me hard, and as if in response to a single cue, our hips simultaneously started to grind...

I'd stopped in the middle of Canal Street now and had my hands over my eyes. I took a deep breath and shook my head like a dog drying itself, trying to clear my head of this scene. I must have looked like a nutter.

But in a way it made my mind up. I wanted that again, wanted to feel that intensity and all-consuming passion with another woman. Could I find someone else like Sophie? Probably not. But I might as well have fun trying. I could almost hear Sean cheering me on.

I found the bar that Sean had mentioned. I hesitated for a few seconds and tried not to peer through the door. Then I really would look like a nutter. One deep breath, a quick muttered word of encouragement to myself, and I pushed open the door and stepped inside.

It was quiet, probably fairly standard for a Saturday afternoon, I imagined. There were a few women in a huddle by the bar and I did attract a few glances as I ordered a drink. Some music was playing and I nodded my head absent-mindedly to the beat as I tried to remember what it was. Ah yes, Lady Gaga, one of her oldies... Bad Romance. Oh. The irony hit me and I grimaced; then decided to find this funny and not grimace, as part of my ongoing 'don't look like a nutter, Sian' campaign.

I poured my pear cider into the glass and Goddammit if Sophies's voice didn't waft into my head again. "You know there's a proper name for pear cider? It's "perry". But it never gets called that any more..." I sighed. She was a bright kid. Some thought Soph wasn't too bright because she'd dropped out of College, but she often took people by surprise with her general knowledge. Not long after her eighteenth we'd gone to the Rovers and sat in on the Tuesday night pub quiz. The unlikely dream team of me, Sophie, Ken Barlow and Owen Armstrong swept the board, and Sophie took great delight in beating Roy Cropper's team. Roy usually won, but that evening Rosie and Jason had invited themselves onto Roy's team and Hayley had insisted that Roy let them. Happy days in the Rovers... it hit me with a jolt, and I started to think back... Eva. She'd been there. There had been some banter between her and Soph. I hadn't paid attention at the time but now I found myself thinking back...

I mentally gave myself a slap. This wasn't going to help. No looking back, onwards and upwards, and all that. C'mon girl. You're here on business.

The music had changed; another oldie. Rihanna - 'Only Girl (In The World)'. I winced again. Was someone doing this on purpose to wind me up?

I turned away from the bar and headed over towards the window. I found an empty table and settled myself down, staring out at the passersby on Canal Street, just lost in thought. The street sparkled as the afternoon sunlight bounced off the zigzag paving, still wet and shining following a heavy shower of rain a few minutes before. After a while I pulled my phone out and fiddled with it, just so I didn't look like a complete spare part. What happens now?, I wondered.

As it turned out, I didn't have long to wait. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a figure peel away from the group at the bar and head in my direction. I braced myself; here we go then. I'd guessed that this wasn't really the sort of place where a 19-year-old blonde femme would stay alone for long. Probably why Sean recommended it.

"Hi!" She was standing next to me. "Mind if I join you?" Cute smile.

"Sure... of course not." I put my phone away.

So this girl sat down opposite me and set about chatting me up.

She was quite nice, actually. A fair bit older than me... maybe 25, 26? Hair cut into a choppy bob coloured with auburn streaks, and floppy bangs than hung down over her eyes. Nice eyes. Really, really deep brown, almost black, so dark that I couldn't make out her pupils. Quite sexy and, of course, completely different from Sophie's. Which helped.

So she asked me lots of questions and talked a lot about her backpacking trip to Vietnam and I think I was doing pretty well. I laughed at her jokes and she seemed interested in my studies and I found myself wondering, could I see myself going to bed with her? And getting the answer, yeah, why not?

And then it all went wrong.

I was laughing at something she's said and I momentarily looked away from her and out at the scene on Canal Street. And there they were.

Eva and Sophie.

Strolling hand in hand along the street, making eyes at each other, Sophie tilting her head to rest it on Eva's shoulder like she used to do with me. Laughing. It was like being kicked in the guts. I couldn't stand it, seeing my Sophie being paraded along Canal Street like she was some sort of fucking trophy.

My companion - Laura (or was it Lauren? I couldn't remember) looked concerned. "You OK?" she asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost!" She was trying to keep a jovial tone in a valiant attempt to rescue a mood that had obviously gone. Because I must have looked like God knows what, my eyes open wide with shock and my stomach churning; I'm sure all of the colour must have drained from my face.

She twisted round in her seat and followed my gaze out onto the street. I think she probably figured out the situation right away. She stood up. "Hey Sian, see you later."

I looked at her stupidly. "Errr, later?"

Laura/Lauren leaned towards me and said, "Like when you've rebounded a little further, sweetheart." She saluted me with her beer bottle and melted back into the growing throng at the bar.

Abruptly I stood up. I had to get out of there. I was berating myself; telling myself that this was stupid, so stupid, such a mistake. What was I thinking? And so on. I guess I must have been a bit pissed and I clumsily knocked my chair over as I headed for the door. The bang reverberated through the entire place and the hubbub at the bar momentarily subsided as everyone turned to check out the latest unfolding drama.

I crashed into the door and heaved at the handle, pulling instead of pushing at first and probably making myself look even more stupid in the process as I half-fell out onto the street.

I'd decided I wouldn't look at them, but I failed. I couldn't help it, my head just automatically turned towards the cosy couple that were now only ten metres or so away. Sophie was looking up at Eva, saying something to her, but I saw the shock of recognition flash across Eva's face, then a scowl. Sophie must have felt Eva tense up, because she looked around and... our eyes met.

I actually retched. I staggered over to the canalside and leaned over the rail until I steadied a little. Then I made myself look around again. Eva had taken Sophie's arm and was trying to turn her around and lead her away but she was resisting. Sophie was staring at me, eyes wide. I couldn't take it anymore; I turned and headed away from them.

"Sian, wait!"

I stopped dead in my tracks. Sian, wait. It sounded exactly like it had when she called after me the first time we kissed and I'd bolted. I shuddered as another wave of nausea hit me. And then I started running and didn't look back.

While I was huddled in that doorway, looking for some warmth, I tried to think all of the positive things about that last three years or so. Some people never find what you had, I told myself. You were lucky to be together, that closely attached, to someone at such an early age. Especially after your parents' breakup. All of that stuff. But.

Another voice started to intrude into my daydreaming, another half-concerned passerby who thinks they should make a show of asking how I am so they can feel good about walking on. Except this one was different. This one knew my name.

"Sian? Sian, come on, talk to me!" She was shaking my shoulder. For the first time in I didn't know how long I opened my eyes and peered out between my knees. Ludicrously high platform stilletos and a pair of shapely calves clad in expensive-looking tights.

"Rosie?"

"Yup. Can I sit down? Budge up."

Automatically I moved to one side and made room in the doorway for her. Rosie plonked herself down next to me and put her arm round my shoulder.

"You're shivering. Come on, lets go somewhere warm."

"No thanks. It's very good of you Rosie, but..."

"Flamin' right it's good of me! I was in Harvey Nicks and just hitting my stride when I got the text."

"Text...? What text?" I asked, not comprehending. I'd lifted my head now.

"She texted me. She was worried about you."

"You mean Sophie?" Rosie nodded. "Well that's really big of her. Tell her I'm touched by her concern, won't you? If you can prise her away from Eva for long enough, that is." Pure sarcasm, bitterness and bile. Not like me, I thought. I've definitely changed. This has changed me.

"She feels bad, you know. About how things have turned out."

"She feels bad?" I was shrieking. "She feels bad? Well I'm pleased. You think I should feel sorry for her or something? I knew you'd be on her side!"

Rosie pulled me closer; I tried to shrug her off but she was gripping me tight, her other arm round in front now, hugging me. She sighed heavily.

"Sian, with this sort of stuff there are no sides, really. There's just... stuff."

"Huh." I didn't believe her, and I'm sure it showed.

"Let's go." She said it firmly; it was clearly an order and as Rosie stood up she grabbed my hand and heaved at it, pulling me to my feet. "Or were you planning on spending the night there?"

"Wasn't really planning anything" I grumbled, secretly pleased. "Where are we going?"

"Let's go the the Lass. It's just round the corner."

"The what?"

The Lass? The Lass o' Gowrie. It's a pub." Rosie said the last bit as if she was explaining something to a particularly dim five-year-old.

"Oh. OK. I've never heard of it."

"It's one of Jason's faves. Bit spit-and-sawdust for me, but, well..." She looked me up and down and wrinkled her nose. "I'm not sure the sort of place I usually go to would let in a scruffy drowned rat like you."

I looked down at my sopping wet jeans and Converse.

"Cocktail bars." added Rosie helpfully, in case I hadn't figured out what sort of drinking establishments fitted her supermodel lifestyle.

Still holding my hand, Rosie led me away from my doorway. As we turned into Princess Street, the clouds parted a little and the sun came out.