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"We should be getting our test results back soon," Leanne's voice was quiet as she toyed with her glass; she gave her father-in-law a slight smile that barely reached her eyes.

"I'm sure there's nothing to worry about." Ken spoke reassuringly, looking to his son from across the table. Peter had his arm around his wife, gazing to the floor as he nodded a little. Ken noticed he hadn't put a lot of input to the conversation, occasionally offering a 'yeah' and looked away to avoid eye contact. It could be that Peter was just as worried as Leanne about the results, or it could be that he simply didn't want to become a father again. Ken hoped it was the former, although he knew that was the least likely.

"I'm just going to the little girl's room," Leanne announced as she grabbed her bag, moving out of the booth. Ken watched her until she was out of ear shot before he leaned onto the table towards Peter.

"You do want a baby, don't you?" His voice was low but stern. Peter shifted slightly in his seat before looking into his dad's eyes and gave him a possibly forced smile.

"Course I do,"

"You can't let Leanne down, Peter-"

Peter rolled his eyes at Ken's remark, shaking his head before looking away. It was typical of his father; always expecting the worst of him, waiting for him to fail instead of giving advice, or non-judgemental support. Peter took a deep breath as he prepared his response, to try and knock his father off his high horse.

Something suddenly stopped him before he even began; they had just walked in. Carla and Frank, hand in hand, walked over to the bar as they were greeted by Frank's squealing mother and his father. They were both tanned, laughing and talking loudly. It was nice to see her look so content, although Peter noted how he felt his heart sink a little at seeing them so happy together. They hadn't even noticed him as they ordered their drinks, and took a table out of Peter's sight. Peter looked back to his father, forgetting what he was going to say to him.

Carla took a sip of her fizzy water; she hadn't ordered alcohol, Frank had tried to assure her that the guests had been just as drunk as her on their wedding night and wouldn't have noticed a thing, including his parents. But the people who hadn't been drunk that night, Peter, Leanne and Frank, were, Carla thought, the ones that mattered. The conversation around her was a blur; she smiled and laughed when she thought was appropriate. Peter had watched her walk in, she knew that. Carla wanted to smile at him, Leanne too if she was with him, but didn't want Frank to notice and cause a fuss.

Leanne walked back into the room and immediately noticed Carla with Frank. Avoiding eye contact, she returned to her own table. "They're back then," She wanted to know her husband's thoughts, but as he smiled at her and took a drink of his orange juice, she found him hard to read. Ken changed the subject as he began to talk about something to do with Deirdre. Peter wasn't listening, his eyes narrowed as he tried to process his own thoughts.

"I'm going for a fag," he stated and moved away from their table before Leanne could respond. Carla's stomach knotted up when she saw him, their eyes lingered for a moment until he left to the Rovers' yard. She had tried to forget him on her honeymoon with Frank; her phone call to him was, she decided, desperate and silly. Thinking about it afterwards, she was glad they hadn't spoken, Frank was her future now and she didn't need to lean on Peter anymore. But seeing him in the flesh again, Carla couldn't help her feelings come back to her. She had noticed he looked stressed. Was it because of her? Looking at Frank, she was sure he hadn't seen Peter walk by as he showed his parents their honeymoon photos on his phone.

"I'm just off to the bathroom," Carla whispered to Frank, as he gave her a nod. She did feel guilty, but she was only going to talk to her friend, she told herself.

Outside, Peter was sat on his own under the shelter from the light rain. His cigarette was between his fingers which he was gazing at, fixed in his own thoughts. Carla sat near to him, feeling familiar to his scent of aftershave and cigarette smoke.

"Have a good holiday?" He didn't look at her, just stayed transfixed to his hand.

"Not bad, thanks. How are-" Carla hadn't come for awkward small talk, she needed to know why he seemed so down.

He interrupted her as he knew what she was doing, "bet you miss the weather though." He finally looked up as he referred to the rain.

"Definitely,"

They sat in silence for a few moments; Carla didn't want to push him knowing what he could be like. The pair of them just watched the rain fall together until she spoke again, wary of the time. "What's the matter, Peter?"

He didn't answer immediately, but he was touched that she was concerned for him. "It's fine, you don't need to worry." He offered her a small smile and stubbed his cigarette.

Frank had noticed how long his wife was, and that Peter had disappeared too. He'd seen how the bookie had stormed out the Rovers, trying to get Carla's attention. He knew about her phone call to him during their holiday; he'd checked her phone. The alcoholic probably tried to get in Carla's head before they left. Confusing her. And now he was doing it again. He gulped his anger down as he laughed with his parents over the photos.