The end of Season 9 plus the sad news of Waterloo Road's impending end has brought me back, although truth to tell this story has been bubbling for weeks. Other commitments have prevented me from doing much about it, but I was finally able to make a start this week. As a result, here's the first bit. The format will be the same as last time, so old readers know what to expect. New readers: please please go and read The Mulgrews of Waterloo Road: Autumn Term first or you'll be totally lost. I don't know that I'll be able to post as quickly as before—the next lot of weeks promise to be busy—but I'll do my best. As before, reviews, comments, crit etc all more than welcome and help to keep me going!

Mulgrew Household, 6.55am

Christine Mulgrew stood at her kitchen island, idly mashing a teabag around a mug. Her attention was not focused on the beverage; she was too deeply engrossed in her thoughts. It was the first day of a new term at Waterloo Road—her second as Head—and after nearly three weeks off she was mentally preparing for the return to school. Hard to imagine that things could change so utterly in the space of three short weeks, but change they had, irrevocably. Murder tended to do that, even at a school as tempestuous as Waterloo Road. Her dreams were still haunted by the memory: Steve-o, shrieking abuse at former girlfriend (and the school's Head Girl) Dynasty Barry, Dynasty's white-hot fury, the gun, the shot… and the sickening thunk as Barry Barry landed at Christine's feet, his eyes wide in dead surprise.

Arms went around her waist and she stiffened slightly before relaxing into them, into the warmth and comfort that they offered.

'Didn't realise you were so keen to get back to work,' Tom teased, dropping a kiss just under her ear.

Reflexively she closed her eyes and moved her head, granting him better access. 'I couldn't sleep. It's a new term, it should be a new start… but it won't be, will it? We can't just move on. There's a new head boy to sort, and God knows how Dynasty will take that, there's counsellors coming in, new staff, new kids…'

'It'll work out,' Tom said gently. 'We'll do it together, you and me. Everyone's gonna be in the same boat, wondering what it'll be like, after—'

Christine turned in his arms. 'That's not all,' she continued tensely. 'I phoned the council the day it happened, to let them know. Bain had gone to Florida, they said, and he'd get back to me when he returned. I've been waiting and waiting and there hasn't been anything, no answer mail, no email, nothing. I'm going back in today not even knowing if I'm still going to have my job!'

'Hey. What happened last term was not your fault! You can't be blamed for Steve-o, it could've happened with anyone in charge!'

She raised her eyes to his. 'Yeah, but it wouldn't take much investigation to see how involved I got in the whole scenario, with the trial and all. They could say I got too close, that I overstepped the boundaries. They might even be right—'

'Chris. It'll be fine, I promise. And no matter what, I'm here, yeah?'

She turned away, taking a sip from her neglected cup and grimacing at the bitterness of the oversteeped tea.

'Even if I end up kicked out?'

'Especially then.' He squeezed her shoulders. 'Look on the bright side, if you're not at school we can snog whenever and wherever we want—'

Her lips twitched at that. 'Tom Clarkson, superannuated teenager—' She gave a a little gasp as he took the tea from her and spun her round to face him. 'Tom—'

'Superannuated nothin'. Besides,' he went on with a smirk, 'I wouldn't start with those jokes. You're older than I am, remember?'

'By about six months!'

'Six months is still six months. I'm your toy boy, me.'

'Urrgh,' grumbled Connor as he stumbled in, black hair every which way. 'Don't you two ever stop?'

'Don't you?' Tom retorted before Christine could respond. 'Didn't I hear your mother banging on your door last night for a solid five minutes—'

'Yeah, well.' Connor dismissed that with a wave. 'We're allowed.' He pulled open the fridge door and Christine winced in anticipation. She was not disappointed; her son turned an accusing stare on her. 'There's no eggs. How'm'I supposed to make breakfast without eggs?'

'I don't need anything,' Christine said hurriedly. 'I'm not hungry.' Now Connor's glare was joined by Tom's. 'I'm not. I'll make myself a cup of tea and get dressed—'

'I'll bring you something up,' Tom said flatly.

Connor clapped the older man on the back. 'Thanks, mate. She never listens to me.'

'You're a pair of naggers,' Christine muttered. She wasn't a morning person at the best of times and it had been years since she'd enjoyed food first thing. 'I'll have something later, I promise—oh, morning, Imogen.'

Her daughter-in-law's bright eyes took in the scene at a glance, and her pointed face split in a grin. 'They ganging up on you again?'

Christine managed a forced smile and made her escape at last, her head pounding as she pulled the kitchen door shut behind her. The hall was blessedly dark and quiet and she took a moment to lean against a wall and pull herself together. Her eyes were hot and sore and her stomach flipped, and not just because of the forthcoming day.

It'd only been one glass of vodka, just one in the dead of night when the nightmares refused to fade even when she opened her eyes, even at the feel of Tom's reassuring warmth beside her. One glass to help her sleep—and she'd poured the rest down the sink with a hand that had trembled only a little as every instinct screamed in silent protest. She'd cleaned her teeth carefully and climbed back into bed, the vodka sloshing unpleasantly in her tummy. Sleep had come, but not restful sleep; past and present and future had collided, leaving her slick with sweat and gasping with fear when she woke again … and now she was struggling to remember what she'd done with the bottle. If Connor discovered it—

Her mouth went dry and she pushed herself away from the wall and began to mount the stairs. Connor would not discover it, she told herself firmly. And even if he did, it had only been one glass. Just one.

Barry Household, 8.00am

'Dyn? Dynasty, are you up?'

'Yeah, Munch, I'm decent. Come right in.' Dynasty Barry finished running a brush through her sleek bob and gave a short nod of satisfaction at the sight of her reflection in the mirror. Her uniform was immaculate, her hair neat, her make-up subtle. She gave her Head Girl badge a small pat and turned to face her younger sister, who was peeping around the door.

'Where's Kev?'

'Still in the shower.'

'Still?' Kacey shook her head slightly. 'He's in there even longer'n you used to be, before you cut yer 'air.'

'Come and sit down,' Dynasty invited, doing so herself on the big double bed she and Kevin shared. Her boyfriend had moved in on Christmas Day and they'd hardly been apart since. 'What's up? Is it—Barry?'

Kacey's head tilted in a characteristic pose. 'It's always Barry. I'm scared, Dyn. Of goin' back there. Where it 'appened.'

'I know, babe.' Dynasty pressed her forehead against Kacey's and sighed. 'I'm not exactly looking forward to it meself.'

'Will it be gone?' Kacey blurted. 'The blood? Barry's blood? I read somewhere that it soaks into wood an' you can never get it off. Like that place McFall brought us to last year, that old palace with the blood on the floor.'

'What are you talkin' about?'

'That place in Edinburgh. Holly-something.'

'What's that about holly?' Kevin asked as he entered, mostly dressed and rubbing his hair with a towel. 'Dyn, have you seen me tie? And badge?'

'They're on the table where you left them last night,' Dynasty told him tartly. 'What do you this is, I'm your maid or somethin'?'

Kevin grinned as he tossed the towel in the corner. 'You're me personal brain, for all the important useful stuff.'

'The practical stuff, you mean,' Dynasty said, handing him the tie when he continued to look vaguely about the room. 'Some day you're gonna be like one of them professors you see on the telly, the boffiny ones that don't 'ave a clue about real life.'

'So? I've got you, don't I? Now tell us what Kace was sayin' about holly.'

Kacey remained quiet and Dynasty gave her sister a nudge. 'Go on, ask 'im. Betcha he'll know.'

'I—' Kacey tried before her voice seemed to die and she had stop; Dynasty could feel the effort it took for her speak again. 'I was wonderin'. About the hall in school, d'you think they'll have got the blood off? Or will it be like that place in Edinburgh, the castle with the plaque on the floor?'

'Holyrood House, you mean. Nah, you can bet Mrs M will 'ave sorted it. Not good for a school, is it?'

'What d'you mean, babe?' Dynasty asked as she pulled her sister close.

Kevin glanced up from settling his tie. 'That spot you're talkin' about, it makes Holyrood loads, don't it? People come to see it, the place where David Rizzio died. Who knows if it's even real blood? Could just be a money-spinnin' con for all we know.'

Dynasty could feel some of the tension leave Kacey's shoulders as the younger girl lifted her head.

'D'you mean it?'

'Yup. Honest, Kace, you don't need to worry about that. There won't be a sign of what happened, I promise.'

'Except inside us,' Kacey said very quietly. 'No-one can wipe them stains away.'

Dynasty chewed her lip and tried to keep her emotions under control as she was swamped by a suffocating wave of grief. Kevin must have realised, for he came to sit beside her, pulling both Barry girls into his arms. He was thin and slender for his age, but somehow he had the strength to hold them.

It was Kacey who drew back first, wiping at her eyes. 'What's the time?'

'Nearly time to go,' Dynasty managed through the tight pain in her throat. 'You ready, Kev? I don't wanna be late.'

'Yeah.' Kevin blew out a sigh. 'Just need to find me shoes.'

Kacey gave a spluttered laugh. 'God, Kev, Dyn's right. You get worse every day. I can see one of 'em from right here.'

Kevin blinked. 'Where?'

Kacey rose and Dynasty noticed that she seemed to sway. Only she must have imagined it, for almost at once her sister was moving with lithe grace to excavate Kevin's trainer from the pile of clothes on the floor.

'Here's one,' she called, chucking it towards them. Her aim was true and Kevin squawked as he grabbed it. 'An' here's…. The other!' she ended triumphantly as she flourished it.

Kevin went to take it. 'You're a star, kiddo.'

'Kiddo yourself,' Kacey complained. 'Yer only a bit older than me.'

'And I'm a prefect!' Kevin reminded her with more than a touch of smugness. 'Don't forget that, Kace. When we're in school I can tell you what to do.'

'Huh, yeah. Like to see it,' Kacey scoffed as Dynasty froze halfway through checking the contents of her bag. She only dimly heard the rest of the conversation between Kacey and Kevin as the former departed, was only dimly aware of her surroundings until Kevin gave her a slight shake.

'Are you OK?' He sounded alarmed.

Her breath caught as she looked up at him. 'It—it was what you said. About bein' a prefect. Oh, God, Kev, I never even thought. We're a prefect down, aren't we? Lost our Head Boy. We're gonna need a new one, aren't we—' Her voice broke.

He squeezed her hands so hard it hurt. 'We'll make it through, Dyn, you'll see,' he insisted. 'We'll survive. We got through last term, we can get through this.'

As Dynasty allowed him to pull her to her feet she found herself wishing she could be so sure.

Grantly House, 8.30am

'Breakfast is up, you lot. Come and get it!'

Rhiannon Salt grinned across the room she now shared with Jasmine Maguire. Two new girls had made some doubling up necessary and both girls had jumped at the chance when Mrs Budgen offered it, the Christmas holidays having cemented the bond that had begun to form over the previous term.

'There's Mags yellin', Jas. Ready? I'm starvin'.'

'Nothin' new there,' Jasmine returned, her eyes bright with amusement. 'You go on down, I'll be there in a sec. Just gotta finish me 'air first.'

'I don't know why yer always complainin',' Rhiannon observed as she paused with a hand on their dormitory door. 'You're dead lucky to have them curls. Most people'd kill for 'em—oh bollocks. I'm sorry, babe. Didn't think.'

Jasmine shook her head, keeping her eyes averted from her friend's. 'S'OK, honest. Go on, I'll be there proper quick.'

The sound of the door closing slowly proclaimed Rhiannon's reluctance, and Jasmine exhaled a shuddery breath once she was certain she was alone. Rhiannon hadn't meant it, she reminded herself. She just had a habit of "opening mouth and inserting foot" as Audrey—Miss McFall—had observed during the holidays. Certainly she'd inserted foot this time as only weeks before Jasmine's brother Steve had been responsible for the death of the school's Head Boy. Granted, Barry Barry had bullied and bribed his way to the position, and he'd controlled through fear rather than respect or love, but he'd still been one of them. A fellow pupil, part of the Waterloo Road family. Not even his worst enemy in school would have wished his death upon him—and he'd died a hero by saving his sister's life. Barry had been something of a legend in life for all the wrong reasons; Jasmine was sure he'd continue to be a legend in death. Given that, how could she possibly show her face in school now? Audrey and Maggie had told her it wasn't her fault, reminded her that she'd been instrumental in securing Steve-o's arrest, but that did help the fear that curdled deep inside. How could she face everyone who'd suffered at her brother's hands the term before?

Someone banged on the door and she stiffened, her fingers tightening over the wide-toothed comb she used. She didn't want to go downstairs yet. Everyone had returned the night before and she'd managed to avoid them by claiming she still hadn't finished her holiday homework. Rhiannon had given her the latest gossip, including a description of the two new girls. One in particular was a nosy cow, Rhiannon had opined; she'd been wide-eyed with excitement over the school's latest and had demanded all the (literally) gory details. Whilst Rhiannon had put down a large and heavy foot, Jasmine was sure someone would have obliged and surely that someone would not have neglected to point out that the murderer's sister was under Grantly House's very roof. The prospect of facing the old gang was bad enough without new people being chucked in for good measure.

'Jas!' Harley Taylor yelled. 'I know yer in there, McFall said to come an' get yer.'

She would, Jasmine thought with a flicker of old resentment as she remained very quiet and still. If she didn't respond perhaps the younger student would give up.

Vain hope. Another thump on the door.

'Come on!' Harley was sounding increasingly impatient. 'You can't hole up in there forever.'

She sighed and dragged unwilling feet across the room to the door, opening it so quickly that Harley only just avoiding falling over the threshold. He caught himself on the doorposts, dark eyes scanning her face anxiously.

'You comin'?' he pressed. Jasmine bit into her lip and he gave her a light punch on the shoulder. 'I'll come wiv yer. It'll be fine, we're all yer mates.'

'I don't want them all lookin' at me,' Jasmine said quietly. 'Starin', you know. Like I'm some freak. Especially them new girls.'

'They're nearly done. McFall was hustlin' them along, you know what she's like.'

Jasmine gave a reluctant grin at that. She did indeed.

'Come on,' Harley urged again. 'Yer don't want another of McFall's brekkie lectures, do yer?'

The sixth former sighed again and capitulated. 'Fine, I'm comin'.' She trailed Harley down the stairs, her fingers running along the painted panelling. The sound of voices mingling with the clatter of cutlery and crockery drifted towards them and she froze once again, a mad bevy of butterflies swooping in her stomach.

Someone emerged from the dining room just as they reached the foot of the stairs and Jasmine's heart sank when she heard Harley's muffled 'Bugger'. The girl was someone she'd never seen before, slighter taller than Jasmine herself with perfectly coiffed strands of blonde lying over her shoulders and blue eyes wide with fascinated curiosity.

'Oh hello,' she greeted in plummy tones that made Jasmine's own eyes widen. 'You must be Jasmine, aren't you. The murderer's sister, it's all perfectly thrilling.' She sidled closer while Jasmine tried to retreat up the stairs, Harley's presence at her back preventing any further flight. 'You must tell me all about it, I must know absolutely every last detail … My grandpapa would adore to hear it, he does love a thriller so.'

'A—a thriller?' Jasmine stammered, hardly able to believe her ears. 'Is—is this a windup?'

Now the blue eyes facing hers were filled with injured innocence. 'Of course not, who could possibly joke about such a thing?'

'Ignore 'er, Jas, she's just some stupid new girl,' Harley fumed over Jasmine's right shoulder. 'C'mon, let's get brekker before it's all gone.'

He gripped her wrist and pulled her past the blonde into the comparative sanctuary of the hall.

Neither noticed the speculative gleam that appeared in the blue eyes, or the satisfied quirk of the lips that appeared once the new girl was alone.

'Louisa: one, Waterloo Road: nil,' she murmured, eyes turning hard with determination. 'I'll get you what you need by lunchtime, Gramps. I promise.'

TBC, and don't forget to let me know what you think of this beginning!