Hiya all! Thanks for all the reviews, favourites and follows, especially to:

Guest: Thank you! Good to see you back!

Chantelucy: Thanks! :)

Daydreams-About-Falling-Stars: I always intended to do a sequel, it was just a case of waiting for inspiration to hit. Took its time in coming, but...

Jessiekat: Yeah, there are some definite similarities between Louisa and Gabi, and physically I imagine them as very similar. However, that's pretty much where it stops—or so I hope!

Some familiar faces will appear in this story, but fair warning: they aren't always what they seem and I'm following my own interpretation of their characters so there may be some divergence from canon. Warning number two: this part is obscenely long, much longer than intended. You may want to be sitting comfortably. Most important of all—enjoy and please don't forget to let me know what you think!

Waterloo Road Carpark, 8.00am

Tom locked his car with a jaunty press of the button on his key and twisted on one heel to look for Christine, who'd driven in just behind him. They'd decided to come to school separately until they'd had time to gauge the reaction to their relationship. They knew their friends would be happy for them but they were anxious to avoid any suggestion of unprofessionalism.

The carpark was gradually filling up, he noted. Nikki Boston went past with a terse nod and wave, to be followed by—wonder of wonders—George Windsor, and Tom's eyebrows shot up.

'Well done, mate!' he shouted to the other man, ignoring the glare Christine sent him as she locked her own car. 'You're actually in before 8.45, this a new year's resolution of yours?'

The French teacher stopped, his expression sour enough to curdle milk. 'Something like that.' He glanced from Tom to Christine, who was in the process of stacking plastic crates on the ground. 'Aren't you going to give our dear leader a hand?'

'I can manage perfectly well, thanks,' Christine put in tartly, and Tom grinned, shifting the pile of folders he was carrying.

'See? She wouldn't thank me for it. Besides, I've no hands to give. You, however—'

George gave him a second dirty look, but he took the hint and went to unburden Christine of two of the three plastic crates she was struggling with. Tom followed, giving his lover a half-wink as she rearranged her lightened burden.

'Thanks,' she told George, but her eyes sought out Tom's and it required effort to prevent the silly grin that wanted to come from spreading over his face.

This was still so new, he was infatuated as he hadn't been for… well, longer than he cared to remember. No wonder Connor and Imogen were by turns amused and bemused; if he was their age, he thought he would be, too. Sometimes he wondered if he was going through some kind of second adolescence; it was as if his entire being craved constant nearness to Christine in the way a flower craves the sun … but he knew better than to say so. Christine was still too wary, too damaged, for such effusions to carry much weight.

'What did your last slave die of?' George was grumbling as Christine stopped to lift several books from her own crate and dump them into his.

'Shut up and get moving,' she snapped, brushing past Tom and George as they moved across the carpark, up the steps, and through the main front door into the foyer. 'I'm the boss. And you're in flat shoes, I'm not. That enough for you?'

George paused to give a sorrowful shake of the head. 'Frailty, thy name is woman—'

'Do one, George!' drifted back to them.

Tom chuckled as George literally stopped to gape down the corridor after her.

'Sorry, mate. Livin' with teenagers, you know?'

The other man grunted and started to move towards the offices, while Tom's own progress there was halted by the sight of a young woman coming up the steps with what looked suspiciously like a small suitcase on wheels. Chivalry made him dump his bag and folders next to the sixth form lockers and cross the foyer to give her a hand.

'Oh thank you,' she gushed up at him as he took the suitcase from her. 'Honestly, you didn't need to, I have this down to a fine art. I was an air stewardess you see.'

'Ah,' said Tom, not really seeing at all.

The young woman stuck out a well-manicured hand. 'I'm Sue, it's good to meet you. And you are—?'

Thoroughly discomfited by her confident manner, Tom blinked twice before saying, 'Tom. Er, Tom Clarkson. Deputy Head,' he clarified as a pair of copper eyebrows rose in polite query. 'I'm sorry, Sue, but who—?'

'Oh, gosh, how silly of me! I'm the new Science teacher. Well, NQT, really, but oh my goodness, it's so amazing being actually able to call myself a proper teacher, it doesn't feel real yet, you know?'

'Er—'

'So what happens now?' Sue breezed without giving him a chance to answer. 'I mean, surely there must be procedures, something to do, rules you follow…' She giggled. 'I know all about rules. Cheltenham Ladies, then York, then St Hilda's for teacher training… and here I am, back at school! And the new girl, again!'

'Right,' Tom said, finally finding his tongue. He'd met some strange NQTs over the years but never one who insisted on chatting to one of her bosses as though they were at a cocktail party. 'You'd better come with me and meet the Head,' he continued, allowing his tone to become brisk. 'We're glad to have you, our science teaching has been rather lacking for the last term or two.'

'Well, gosh, I'm sure no-one cared–except perhaps the exam people,' Sue twittered as he led her towards Christine's office. 'I mean, from what I've read it was all awfully dramatic last term, what with abductions and murders and goodness knows what else! I told my dad working here could be the most exciting thing that's happened to me, ever!'

'Yeah,' he agreed absently as he opened the door into the offices. Sonya gave him a grin and a wave, and he paused.

'Sue, this is Sonya, the school secretary. She'll help you find your feet a bit.'

'Right you are!' Sonya agreed warmly, bustling around her desk to take Sue's hand and give it an enthusiastic pumping. 'And you know what the first bit of bein' made welcome is?'

Sue looked somewhat taken aback, Tom was glad to see. Sonya, on the other hand, was her usual unfazed self.

'Why, it's rosie lea, innit? How'd you wannit? Black, milk, sugar, lemon? We got 'em all.'

'Not in here we don't,' Christine interjected as she came to stand by the door that separated her office from Sonya's. 'Everything's still in the staffroom.'

Sonya's mouth formed a round O. 'Yeah, that's right, boss. We moved 'em after—'

'Sonya,' Christine interrupted gently, and the younger woman took the hint and vanished into the staffroom. The Head's mouth twitched as she turned to Tom and his NQT. 'And you are Miss Sue Spark, isn't that right?'

'You remembered!' It came as a girlish squeal that hurt the Deputy Head's ears.

Christine gave a little laugh. 'Oh yes. Your references were so good I couldn't possibly forget.'

'Awww.' Sue heaved a happy little sigh and looked from Tom to Christine and back. 'Do you know, I think I'm just going to adore it here.'

Tom had to pull his expression straight and severe to cover the wild desire to laugh. Christine did not look as though she shared his amusement; there was tightness about her mouth and eyes and her smile was too stretched.

'Right,' she said, and Tom's gaze narrowed as he studied her. 'Well, Miss Spark, it's good to meet you. I'll make time for you this morning to discuss your induction; I realise it will be difficult as you are our only science specialist on staff at the moment, but we'll do our best for you.'

'Awww!' Sue gushed again, apparently not hearing the implicit dismissal in the Head's words, and Tom found he was no longer amused.

'Why don't you go on into the staffroom and get your tea from Sonya there,' he suggested. 'Mrs Mulgrew and I will be in shortly for briefing in any case, so we'll catch up with you then.'

Sue opened her mouth and he caught her eye. Abruptly, she shut it again and twisted on her heel, jerking her little case along with smooth expertise. When the connecting door had closed behind her, Tom turned to face Christine.

'Chris. What—is—that?'

Her head clunked back against the doorpost. 'The only science specialist we could get,' she said grimly. 'I lied just now. It was easy enough to remember her; she was the only one who applied. I didn't have much choice, especially when the council endorsed her.'

'An NQT?' Tom demanded incredulously, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder and steering her into her own room. 'Bit weird, don't you think.'

She gave a small shrug. 'Is it? Science is a shortage subject and her academic credentials are good. Beggars can't be choosers.'

'H'mmm. Kids'll have her for breakfast and spit out the bits.'

'Yeah.' She sighed, already sounding tired, and he longed to pull her into his arms for a hug. A few weeks ago he would have; now he was too aware of the need to keep those all-important professional boundaries up. 'Tom, keep an eye on her, would you?'

''Course I will. Part of my job as Deputy Head, isn't it.'

She groaned. 'I'm sorry, you know that. Of course you do, you've been doing this longer than I have.'

'Sit down,' Tom ordered and watched as she obeyed, her elbows going to the desk and her fingers pressing at her temples. 'I'll get your tea and we can talk. What's first for this morning?'

'Barry, Barry and Barry… with the staff and the kids. We can't pretend it didn't happen, it has to be addressed.'

'Yeah.' He stopped at the door when Sonya appeared, armed with his mug and Christine's. 'Son, you're a star. Thanks for this!'

He was about withdraw into the Head's office when the secretary made him pause with a furtive glance towards the staffroom.

'She's hiding sommat,' she whispered. 'Knows too much, she does, an' she was rootin' for more. Asking' about you and Christine and Barry and that. I don't like it. Watch yourselves, yeah?'

Now it was Tom's turn to give a strained smile, the old familiar feeling of disquiet twisting in his belly.

Hey-ho, he thought as he went to hand Christine her tea and take a seat facing her with his own, trouble's looming. Already. So what else is new…

Hall, 9.00am

The school hall was filled with the sound of students scraping their chairs as they sat down, but any chat was desultory at best and one of Louisa's perfectly groomed eyebrows rose in a quizzical expression as she studied her new schoolmates and their environment. It was far from what she was accustomed to; the hall's wooden floor bore deep gouges and scrapes, one of the stained glass panes that separated hall from foyer had been smashed, and a light strip above her was flickering in a fashion that proclaimed its imminent demise. Nor were the pupils any better; there were few immaculate uniforms and even fewer cut-glass accents.

On the stage a big lectern took pride of place, and it was flanked on the one hand by a group of staff and on the other by the assembled prefects. These last looked very serious, Louisa noted, but even the Head Girl was not what she'd expected. Her lip curled; what kind of representative was she if she couldn't even wear the uniform properly? The skirt, tights and shoes were correct enough, but the quilted jacket was decidedly not the blazer that Louisa herself sported, and the corners of her mouth tilted upwards as she thought back to her last school. She'd disagreed violently with Paris Russell's appointment, but at least she'd looked the part. Here… her lips gave a little quiver as she crossed her ankles neatly, as she'd been taught, and looked for someone to talk to.

There she was out of luck. Year 11, in front of her, were too busy collecting around a girl hunched in their centre to care about a new sixth former. Everyone who was anyone was up on the stage, meaning that the remnants were barely worth Louisa's attention. The younger children were definitely not worth her attention, and the only other girl on her row was the short person she'd encountered on the stairs earlier in Grantly House. Her name was Jasmine, Louisa remembered, and she was the murderer's sister … but when Louisa tried to catch her eye the other girl rose and moved to the row behind.

Louisa's mouth twitched again, this time from discomfort. She wasn't used to being ignored, let alone being ignored as pointedly at this. When someone touched her shoulder she jumped, and only just managed to smooth out the glare that wanted to come in response.

'Don't mind her,' the girl who'd tapped her from behind said. 'She's a funny one, Jas Maguire.'

'She seems to be,' Louisa agreed, allowing dimples to form. They made her look innocently sweet, and she'd known from early childhood how to use them to her advantage. 'Honestly, the way she reacted this morning when I tried to introduce myself! Anyone'd have thought she was the murderer and I was the police!'

The other girl grinned. 'Yeah, she's twitchy. Always has been. Don't bother with her, no-one likes her anyway. Even Dynasty an' that only pretend, 'cos after all Jas did help rescue Connor and Kacey last term—'

Louisa's eyes widened. She hadn't heard about this. 'Rescue them? How? And who're Connor and Kacey?'

Her companion pointed to the empty seat. 'Can I—?'

Louisa nodded, waiting patiently until the other was sitting next to her. 'I'm Louisa, by the way. What's your name?'

'Rebecca, but I'm always Becs. The only person who calls me Rebecca is Mr Windsor, him up there with t'long nose an' grumpy face. And the Head, when she's in a snit in English.' Becs sighed. 'Serious, after Connor went missin' I swear I was called Rebecca then more'n anyone had done, like, ever!'

'How come?'

Becs shifted, one eye going to the door, as if to watch for the Head's arrival. 'Well, he's 'er son, innit? That's him up there, in the front row next to Dynasty, the Head Girl. The empty space is for Barry, him that was killed last term. He was Head Boy, y'see. And then on Dyn's other side, the skinny kid, that's 'er boyfriend Kevin, He's the school genius. And the girl next to Connor who looks like a goth, she's Imogen, Connor's wife and Deputy Head Girl. They're all best mates, like.'

This distracted Louisa from the story of the rescue. 'You mean… all of the senior prefects are closely connected to the Head's son?' Becs nodded. 'But… that's terribly unfair! That's nepotism, having the Head's son as Deputy Head Boy—'

'Oh, he's not. That's Jack, but 'e's late, as usual. Connor's just a prefect.'

'Even so, the Head's daughter-in-law as Deputy Head Girl, her son as a prefect, and their best friends as Head Girl and Deputy Head Boy—doesn't Mrs Mulgrew see an awful lot of them?'

Becs gave a nod. 'Don't she just. An' it gets better,' she added, leaning in closer, ''cos last term, before the trial, Dynasty there moved into the Mulgrews'. She lived there for ages 'til they had some row over Dynasty's abortion.'

Louisa's jaw dropped. 'Abortion?!'

There was no time for Becs to answer, for the hall's double doors opened and the school rose to its collective feet as Mrs Mulgrew, dressed in black, passed down the central aisle on her way to the stage, the heels of her shoes ringing loud amidst the sudden silence. Louisa eyed her new headmistress curiously as she took her place and found that once again she was surprised. She'd half-expected to find Waterloo Road's headteacher teetering drunkenly on the edge of the stage, her words slurring … but when Christine Mulgrew began to speak it was in a crisp voice accented by nothing more than her Glasgow burr.

'Welcome back to school, everyone! I hope you enjoyed your holidays and'— she paused to give several people a meaning look—'that you've returned to school remembering that this is an exam term and that you're prepared to work hard.' The students groaned, but there was no further protest and the Head's expression turned very grave. 'I know it must be strange for you to be here, in this room. Harder for some than others,' she added, giving a nod in Dynasty's direction, but the Head Girl did not acknowledge it; she continued to stare straight ahead, her eyes burning in a white face. 'It was a traumatic experience for everyone, and Barry's loss is felt by all of us as a school. He was our Head Boy, and he died a hero, saving his sister's life. Let's take a minute to remember him.'

As quiet descended on the hall Louisa heard a muffled sound next to her and glanced towards Becs; only the girl was not crying as she had at first feared. Instead, it looked as if she was trying not to laugh. Shocked in spite of herself, Louisa stared at her and Becs hissed, 'This is dead stupid, Barry was no hero—'

The shock-headed boy from that morning in Grantly House turned around to glare, his eyes shooting daggers at them. 'Shut up, you! Kacey'll 'ear you!'

Becs returned the glare and looked as if she was about to retort but Louisa jabbed her into quiet, anxious to avoid having attention drawn to her too soon.

'Right,' Mrs Mulgrew said once the minute's remembrance had expired, 'it's time you lot were in lessons, especially as break will be longer than usual.' There was an interested rustle and she explained. 'Barry… was Head Boy. The school has to go on, we need a new Head Boy. As before, your candidates are the other prefects: Connor, Kevin, Jack, Alex and Ryan. We'll also need another male prefect, but I think we'll leave that for today. You should all know those five well enough to make your minds up quickly, so at the end of period two your teachers will hand out voting slips. You'll have ten minutes to vote in addition to your usual twenty minute break; lessons start again at twenty to eleven but note, people! Lunch will be shorter than usual to make up!' Another groan and she tutted. 'OK, I think that's everything. Election results will be announced in the dining hall at lunch, and again at afternoon registration. Up you get and—go!' She gestured as she finished, and the school obeyed on the word, the big room immediately filling with noise as the school hastened to get to its various classes.

As Louisa rose, ignoring the dribble of Becca's chatter, her eyes sought out the group of people on the stage and she gave an inward grin of satisfaction. With everyone else otherwise occupied, Mrs Mulgrew had gone to the prefects and was sitting on the empty seat with an arm around Dynasty, surrounded by her son, her daughter-in-law, and Dynasty's boyfriend.

Nepotism, Louisa reminded herself gleefully. It was rank nepotism and terribly unprofessional. And then another teacher came up—

'That's Mr Clarkson, the Deputy Head,' Becca observed and Louisa gave a distracted nod. 'He's dead nice, everyone likes him—oh, my god!'

Louisa's smirk came to fore once again as she saw the cause of Bec's surprise: Mr Clarkson's hand going to rest on Mrs Mulgrew's shoulder as he leaned over for a word, and the Head's response of a quick pat in a gesture of automatic intimacy that proclaimed their closeness louder than any words. Delight bubbled within the new girl; this was getting better and better: nepotism amongst the prefects and an inappropriate love affair? Gramps would be so pleased.

Mr Clarkson's room, 9.50am

'All right, Year 12, wind your necks in!' Mr Clarkson ordered. 'The bell's going in ten minutes and you heard the Head in Assembly, we've voting to do. But,' he added impressively, 'if you mess around now I'll carry on after the bell's gone and that'll delay your voting and—well, I'm sure you can see where I'm going.' He grinned and the class grinned back and quietened down.

'Mocks start next week. Everyone happy with how their revision's going?'

Imogen raised her hand. 'I'm happy with mine, but could we have a session on essay writing in exams?' she asked anxiously. ''Cos of the time, it's not very long to write four essays, is it—'

'Nope, but you're in luck, Mrs Mulgrew,' Tom told her. 'I meant to tell you before; the exam board have said you can have extra time.'

Imogen felt her face flame as the rest of the class erupted. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but the sheer volume made it clear they weren't happy. Tom's eyes popped and she lipread his muttered Shit and realised that he'd come out with that without thinking. It was the sort of thing he should have told her in private…

'It's OK sir, I don't need it,' she said hurriedly, eager to quell the riot. 'Never used it before, did I?'

'You may as well use it, you're entitled to it,' Mr Clarkson argued.

'But—' Imogen tried.

'How much time does she get?' Dynasty interrupted.

Now Tom was looking throughly discomfited. 'I don't think—'

'What about me, eh?' the Head Girl demanded, her tone shaded with aggression. 'Do I get no extra time? How much revision d'you think I've been able to do after watchin' me brother get gunned down three weeks ago?'

An unfamiliar voice said something behind Imogen. She couldn't make out the words, but the cadences were not common at Waterloo Road; they were too smooth, too modulated, and she wasn't altogether surprised when Dynasty stiffened and swirled in her seat. Curiosity getting the better of her, Imogen did likewise and found herself face to face with the Sixth's only new girl.

'D'you wanna say that again to me face?' Dynasty said fiercely, ignoring Mr Clarkson's order to keep quiet.

The new girl looked amused. 'I was only stating a fact. Imogen is deaf, is she not?'

Imogen quailed as Dynasty's chin lifted. 'So?'

'She's disabled, isn't she,' the new girl said, and all at once Imogen was as furious as her friend. 'She's disadvantaged, that's why she gets extra time, so that she can write in proper sentences—'

'All right, that's enough,' Mr Clarkson said, physically coming to stand in front of the new girl when the Head Girl leaned over threateningly. 'Turn around, everyone. Dynasty, that means you too—'

'But sir, you 'eard what she said about Imogen! She's not talkin' about anyone like that!'

Mr Clarkson glanced at them and barked out an order for the class as a whole to take out their file blocks and start drafting a revision timetable. Then he came to kneel in front of Imogen and Dynasty.

'Just leave it,' he said quietly. 'She's just a new girl, what does she know. Imogen, I'm sorry. I opened me gob before I thought … and yes, Dyn, you're right. You're due extra time for the exams and so is Kace. I'll talk to Christine about it, OK?'

Imogen watched out of the corner of her eye as Dynasty visibly simmered down and exhaled a sigh of relief. Mr Clarkson met her eyes and gave a tiny nod; she responded with a small smile.

'Good,' the Deputy Head said as he rose, glancing past the girls towards the clock. 'And the bell's about to go, folks. You,' he pointed at the new girl, 'you can hand out the slips sittin' on my desk. Go on, move!'

A jab in the ribs brought Imogen's attention back to Dynasty.

'We're gonna have to do somethin' about that one,' the Head Girl said darkly with a meaning nod in the new girl's direction. 'She's gonna be trouble, I heard all about her from Rhiannon earlier.'

Imogen's eyebrows went up. 'Yeah?'

'Yeah.' Dynasty gave a sickly smile when the slips landed in front of them. 'I say, thank you dahling,' she said in a parody of a 'posh' voice. The new girl simply moved on and Imogen looked reproachfully at her best friend.

'Come on, Dyn, you've got to give her a chance.'

'No I don't,' Dynasty snapped. 'I'm good at readin' people, me. I knew she was trouble even before Rhiannon told me about 'er quizzing people in the School House about Barry. Nothin' to do wi' 'er, is it? She's out for the gossip.'

'Can't blame her for that,' Imogen pointed out as she scribbled a name on her slip and folded it up. 'It's just a story to her.'

'Yeah? Well, it ain't no story to me,' Dynasty hissed. 'It's my life, it's me family's life, I'm not havin' some toff pore over all the details like we were some soap rag.'

'Dyn—'

'No, Imogen!' Dynasty slammed her pen down on the desk, making Imogen jump. 'Don't you dare try to make excuses for that cow, for anyone just out fer a cheap thrill over what happened to our Barry!'

'I'm not, I'm just trying to—'

Dynasty pushed her chair back with a jarring scrape that vibrated unpleasantly through Imogen's spine. 'Some best mate you turned out to be!'

'What's going on here?' Mr Clarkson demanded. 'Come on, Dynasty. You're Head Girl, you can't mess about like this—'

'What I can't do is sit 'ere and watch this.' Dynasty picked up her slip and pointedly ripped it in two, allowing the fragments to flutter to the floor. 'Sorry, sir, but whoever gets 'Ead Boy will be gettin' it without my vote!' With that, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the classroom, allowing the door to close behind her with a slam that made even Imogen wince.

'All right everyone, show over,' Tom said. 'Two minutes and the election's over, get on with it.'

Already finished, Imogen concentrated on packing her bag and getting ready to go as soon as the teacher gave the word. Once he did, she was one of the first on her feet. Her attempt to leave quickly was thwarted by the new girl.

'I'm awfully sorry,' she said apologetically. 'I didn't mean to put my foot in.'

'Yeah, well.' Imogen eyed her coolly, not forgetting what Dynasty had said. 'She's had a tough time lately.'

The new girl gave an elegant shrug. 'Absolutely, but haven't you had a tough time too? How long've you been deaf?' She signed the word for 'deaf' as she spoke and Imogen forgot about caution.

'You can sign!'

'Yeah.' The new girl switched off her voice and continued in BSL more fluent than Imogen's had ever been. 'My sister's deaf, she's at school in Newbury. I can't pretend I know what it's like, but I know something about it.'

'I've been deaf since I was a kid,' Imogen blurted as they left Mr Clarkson's room. 'But then, last term, it suddenly got worse. I used to be moderately deaf but now…' She gave a strained laugh and switched to BSL in her own turn. 'Now I'm deafer than that doorpost.'

The new girl put a hand on her arm. 'You're so brave to stay here, in mainstream,' she signed. 'It must be so hard.'

Imogen shrugged. 'Yeah, well.'

'It must help having your mother-in-law as Head.'

'Yeah, she's been amazin',' Imogen agreed. 'I don't think I could've stayed without her in my corner, her and Connor, they've kept me afloat. Well, and Dynasty and Kev too, of course. They're great mates, I'm dead lucky.'

'And now you've got me,' the new girl said, her hands moving with fluid grace. 'I'd like to be friends.'

A slow smile spread across Imogen's face. A combination of deafness, intelligence and a certain geekiness had prevented her from making friends easily. 'Can never have too many.'

'Definitely.' The other's girl's sign had emphasis.

'Yeah. Oh, one more thing, I still don't know your name?'

'It's Louisa.' The new girl fingerspelled her name. 'My sister calls me Lulu, she says it's easier to say—and sign!'

'Lulu,' Imogen said aloud. 'That's kind of cute, provided no-one confuses you with our one and only Lula.' She grinned and yanked out her phone to check the time. ', it's nearly twenty to. Gotta go or I'll be late for history.'

'Same,' Louisa signed, and the two exchanged a smile. 'Will you show me where to go? I'd hate to get lost and get in Miss McFall's black books when she's my house-mistress!'

By this time Imogen had put Dynasty's qualms aside. Dynasty, she reminded herself, was still grieving and thus inclined to be over-sensitive. Louisa—Lulu—was nice, and it was so good to be able to talk to someone without having to strain to lipread. Dynasty would understand, she thought as she took Louisa's arm. She wasn't selfish about friendship.

'Come on,' she said, pulling slightly in the direction of Miss McFall's room, 'I'll show you where to go.'

Apologies for how this looks, something's gone a bit weird with the lines I'm using to signify scene breaks. If anyone knows how to fix it please give me a shout! Take care and TBC...