I struggled a bit with this. H'mm, is that becoming a recurring theme? Possibly; I always find the Christine-centric stuff tends to flow very easily and the other stuff less so, but I need this for set-up. Plus, ensemble fic. 'Nuff said.

Review responses:

Paisley: *g* Christine's memory is crap… but people change a lot between 13 and 30 or so, so I don't think her lapse re Rennie is impossible. I'm really pushing the Nikki-Eve thing here; I thought it was resolved too quickly and neatly on the show.

Mini Peacelet: Yup, Eve will be hanging around! You should enjoy this as it's pretty Boston-centric (I'm including Eve in that).

Raeeban: Hi! Thanks so much for reviewing and I'm thrilled you took the time to read the whole epic at once! I'm delighted you think the characters and storylines work … and plenty to come, with loads of Tomstine. This particular story is due to become very Mulgrew-centric, more so than either of the others.

Lori: *g* That's a relief re chapter length. I'm always worrying about pace. I loved doing that bit about Christine's past… it still seems so strange that they set that up, revealed it… and then it's never mentioned again?! And Christine's supposed love in S10 there for Tess… Really?! Then again, it's about a woman who was raped and murdered her rapist. I suppose I can see the appeal. Apart from getting hanged at the end, that was unfortunate.

Niamhemilee: Good! Really glad you prefer the longer chapters! Not much Tomstine coming right up, but don't worry, there's going to be loads very soon.

Lola: I thought your comment was really interesting, that you were unsettled by the fluff last time because it covered lies. You're right; I wanted it to be cute but unsettling at the same time, so glad it worked! And yeah, Christine and her defensive tactics!

Sparkles21: Looks like people are liking Eve! There's some advances for her… and not much in the way of fluff. Yet. :D


Grantly House, 7.00am


Maggie Budgen straightened her cardigan as she came onto the landing, her mind already revolving the options for that morning's cooked breakfast—only to do a double take. The landing was in near-darkness, the gloom lifted only by the single shaft of light pouring through Audrey's open door as the history teacher repeatedly flipped the switches.

'What—' Maggie started.

The other woman turned, her expression grim.

'I think we've got a power cut. Didn't you notice?'

'It's a lovely morning, I had me shower ages ago and turned the lights off.' Maggie frowned. 'Are you sure it's not the bulbs?'

Audrey's scanty eyebrows went up. 'All of them?'

'Yeah.' Maggie sighed, pulling her woolly cardigan tighter. 'God, it's cold. Didn't notice in there,' she jerked her head back towards her own room, 'but it'd freeze the wotsits off yer out here and no mistake.'

'Cold is good for you,' Audrey said, preceding her down the stairs. 'Bracing. Warms the blood.'

Maggie rolled her eyes and followed her colleague down, a frown developing when she saw that landing was also in near-darkness. Maybe Audrey was right about that power cut—

She was cut off mid-thought by a blood-curdling scream that made her heart threaten to escape her chest while Audrey clutched at the neck of her blouse.

'What—what was that?'

Maggie blew out a slow breath and willed her startled pulse to return to normal.

'Came from a bathroom. Most likely the water—Rhiannon!'

The bathroom door flew open and the prefect stood before them, tightly tied into her dressing gown and water streaming into a puddle at her feet.

'Where is she? I'm gonna kill 'er!'

'Who?' Audrey demanded, while Maggie suddenly understood.

'Eve. Stupid, I should've thought…!' She lunged for Rhiannon before the girl could go storming off. 'Rhiannon, just hold on, OK?'

The sixth former's eyebrows collided, taking on the dark look Maggie remembered from their first term in Greenock.

'Why? We're fed up of 'er playin' silly buggers, who does she think she is, eh? Just 'cos Boston won't have anything to with her, she has to go an' spoil it for the rest of us!'

'What makes you think it's Eve?' Audrey demanded. 'We can't go accusing people—'

Rhiannon scoffed.

'You are kidding? Who else has been causin' trouble for the past week? Besides, I 'eard her last night at supper. She were asking Harley where the power box was. Silly muppet must've told her, never thought to ask why!' One corner of her mouth lifted. 'She'll get what's comin' to 'er now and no mistake, I'm up early, wait til the others start stirring. Eve'll not know what's 'it her, but tell yer what, I'll be first in line!' She threw off Maggie's restraining arm and pelted down the next load of stairs, shouting Eve's name.

The housemistress groaned. 'Thank God we moved Eve to a room of 'er own. This is bad enough, it'd have been ten times worse if she was still down there with Rhiannon and Jasmine.'

But Audrey wasn't listening. She looked deeply worried, her hands wringing fretfully.

'What are we going to do? No heat, no hot water, no electricity … how on earth are the children ever supposed to get ready for school?'

Despite her very real annoyance, Maggie couldn't help grinning. Trust Audrey to turn the whole thing into a tragicomedy.

'We flip a switch. Back to normal in no time, you'll see. It's not black magic, flower, it's just a switch. Come on and I'll show yer—and then I'll deal with our trickster,' she ended grimly, leading the other woman down to the ground floor and out into the utility room where the power box resided.

Sure enough, a flick of her finger restored light and the yowls of protest coming from above began to fade into the usual creaks, yells, bangs and thumps that came from fifty teenagers trying to get ready for the school day in eight bathrooms, only two of which were communal.

She turned back to Audrey. 'They'll be down soon, rarin' to go. You happy to start their breakfast?'

'Of course.' Audrey cast a deeply suspicious look at the power box. 'Are you certain it was just Eve? That thing isn't going to—to explode or anything?'

Maggie humphed to cover her amusement. 'Wouldn't have thought so. Rhiannon's right, you know, it's pretty obvious who's responsible.' She shook her head. 'Poor lass.'

Audrey paused at the door to look back, her mouth tightly pursed. 'We're going to have to tell Tom and Christine, Maggie. And Nikki, for that matter. After all, she's partly responsible for this fiasco!'

If that isn't you all over, Maggie thought as the history teacher departed. See life simply, all black and white and no shades of grey.

It took some hunting to find Eve, and it was not until Maggie ventured outside that she spied her quarry, crouching on the ornamental garden wall and throwing small stones in the general direction of the house.

'Oi, watch it,' she chided as she joined the girl, having had to duck a stone or two. 'Could 'ave had us in the eye and then you'd be in a pickle, eh?'

She lowered herself to the wall beside Eve. The younger woman did not acknowledge her presence with so much as a glance, one arm continuing in its path to throw another stone. Maggie reached to push it down—and only then did Eve seem to register her presence, her arm turning rigid beneath the housemistress's fingers.

Maggie sighed.

'I think that's enough now, pet, don't you? And I don't just mean the stones.'

There was no response and the housemistress fumbled on, trying to get through.

'Look, it's 'ard. Losin' your dad, losing anyone, nothing prepares you for how it feels. It's like …' She had to pause to try to steady her trembling lips. 'You lose part of you as well, the person you were when they were around. No-one warns you about that, do they? When Grantly went—' She had to reach for a hanky, scrubbing her nose fiercely and reprimanding herself for getting caught up in her own sorrow. Eve had never known Grantly and would not care.

But Eve's head had lifted from her morose study of the gravel-covered patio, her dark eyes fixing on Maggie.

'"Grantly"? Is that who this place is named for?'

Maggie sniffled and nodded, giving her a nose another rub. 'Aye. He was a teacher 'ere for … most of his working life. He was a grumpy sod, always hated to show he cared … but he did. He really did. We were 'ardly married a year—' Her voice broke.

'I'm sorry.' Maggie could hear the tiny quiver; it gave her hope. 'When—when did it happen?'

'About … six months ago, give or take.' Her hand still rested on the girl's arm; she gave it a tiny squeeze, reinforcing the connection. 'And it still hurts and—and part of me knows it always will. Part of me wants to always hurt, because—because then it means he's not completely gone. He's still in 'ere.' She brought a closed fist to her heart. 'But just because I'm hurting … it doesn't mean I can ignore everyone else—or try to hurt them.' A pause. 'Understand what I'm saying, man?'

She could almost see the walls go back up around Eve, her shoulders resuming their hunched defensiveness.

'I haven't hurt anyone.'

'No? Maybe "hurt" is a bit strong, but you've been trying your hardest to make life difficult for everyone else. All that argy-bargy with Rhiannon and Jasmine, the electricity just now—that was you, wasn't it?'

The young woman did not answer in words, but the swift glance she directed at her housemistress said it all, one corner of her mouth lifting.

So she thinks it's funny, does she? Well, I can work with that.

Maggie allowed herself a smirk of her own. 'Bit of a shock, that one! And you should have 'eard the yells coming from Rhiannon… I'd watch yourself there. Rhiannon's gunning for yer after her icy shower and frankly, I can't blame her. And then there was the fire alarms. I mean, two in one week?'

Her heart sank when she saw that Eve's expression return to sullen sadness.

'I don't want to be here, I don't see why I should have to pretend.'

'Maybe not, but whether you like it or not you're still one of the oldest kids in the house, we need you to set an example.' Eve scoffed at that and Maggie leaned forward. 'Aw, come on, man. Just give us a chance. Drop the bolshy act, eh? I know you're a good person, I really believe it, but … you've got to stop punishing everyone else for what's happened with your mum!'

The look she got reminded her of Nikki.

'Yeah, right. How does a power cut that lasted, like, five minutes and a fire alarm punish anyone?'

'Well … There's the inconvenience it causes to everyone here, although I don't think you're too worried about that. Then there's the fact that every time the alarm's set off we get the emergency folks hammering at our door and they're not best pleased when it's a hoax. And … Listen, lass, I understand you wanting to punish your mum. I even get why you're kickin' off 'ere, but … what've Mrs Mulgrew and Mr Clarkson ever done to you?'

'I haven't done anything to them!'

'No? Mrs Mulgrew's Head. The fire service have to phone her when they're called out. That's two 3 am wake-up calls you've given her in one week and don't you think … Don't you think that's a bit much to put on a woman who's five months pregnant?'

Eve's head drooped. 'I never thought—'

'Well, you'd better start, hadn't you. Without Christine Mulgrew's insistence on finding you a place here you could have found yourself in care, madam. And that being so, the least you can do is apologise.'

'And if I don't?'

One corner of Maggie's mouth twitched. The words were defiant but Eve wasn't quite as truculent as she tried to appear; there was an undertone of fear and anxiety there too.

'You're eighteen in a couple of months. When that happens you don't owe us anything … and we don't owe you either. You can walk—or you can politely be asked to leave. I'm not saying it'll happen, Waterloo Road prides itself on giving kids second chances, but …' She shrugged, trying to appear as if she didn't care when in fact she felt sick with apprehension. Telling Eve this was a calculated risk, it could all too easily blow up in her face.

She forced herself to sit in silence until Eve said gruffly, 'I'll apologise. To Mrs Mulgrew, I mean.'

Maggie beamed.

'I knew you'd do it!' She put an arm around the girl in a loose hug and tried to ignore the tangible resistance. 'Baby steps, eh? And before you know it, you'll be part of our family … because that's what we are here,' she added gently when Eve pulled back, the dark eyes suddenly very wide.

'We're not just a school, we're not just a—a community. We're a family. Now, I know you're sad, I know you're lonely and scared and just wantin' to belong … and I promise you this. You make an effort and you'll always have a home and family, no matter what happens with your mum or the school. Do you hear what I'm saying? While there's breath in my body, Eve Boston, you'll always have a home an' family. But you gotta show us you want it first. You have to try.'

Tiny tremors were running through Eve. Maggie could feel it, little shudders that indicated some kind of emotional earthquake inside. Once again she put an arm around Eve's shoulders—and this time the girl collapsed against her, her fingers digging into the chunky wool of Maggie's cardigan. She did not sob, but the older woman could feel the warm dampness that seeped through the layers and she tightened her arms around her newest charge, bitter thoughts of Nikki Boston running through her mind.

Some women yearned all their lives to be mothers. Nikki was a fool not to realise her own good fortune.


Head's Office, 8.45am


'… And you've got a council meeting booked in for next week,' Sonya ended her recital of upcoming events, sending Tom an uncertain glance when Christine did not twist away from the window. 'No prizes for guessin' what that's about. Oh, and this came for Imogen.'

Tom frowned as he took the thick envelope from the secretary. 'It came to school? Is it university related?'

Sonya shrugged. 'You know as much as me. You might wanna tell her, though, I'm not a post service for them kids—prefects or not!'

'I'll do that,' Tom promised, his frown growing when he turned over the thin packet to see the postmark. Sonya was still standing waiting and he nodded towards the outer office. 'It's OK, we're done here, I'll give you a shout.'

She left reluctantly and Tom tossed the packet on Christine's desk. 'She's right, you know,' he said to his partner's back. 'Imogen shouldn't be having post sent here. Why would she do that anyway? It doesn't make sense, she must know … Chris?'

She turned, blinking dazedly, and he realised she hadn't heard a single word said in the past five minutes. A familiar discomfort settled low in his belly and he leaned forward, bracing his weight against her desk.

'Are you gonna tell me what's worrying you? Don't tell me there isn't,' he added as she started to speak. 'No lies, remember?'

'Who said anything about lies?' She turned back to the window. He wondered what she saw out there, beyond the grassy verges and black tarmac of the school's carpark.

He circled the desk to stand beside her.

'Come on, love. Don't do this. I thought we'd got past this, you stonewallin' me—' He broke off when she twisted to look him straight in the eye, her gaze steady as a cat's.

'I swear, it's nothing for you to worry about.' She lifted a hand to cradle his cheek. 'It's nothing to do with you or us, it's nothing to with Squirt or this place, it's just…' She gave a small shake of the head, her lips compressing.

Tom reached up to take the hand that lay on his cheek.

'Christine, don't you get it yet? Anything that's to do with you is to do with me. Anything. And especially something that's eating you as much as this is, you haven't been yourself all week. So tell me.' He put his hands on her shoulders. 'What is it?'

'I—' She stopped when a sharp rap at the door sounded and Tom wondered if he was imagining the look of relief in her eyes. 'Yes, Maggie?'

'Sorry, am I interruptin'?' The older woman pointed towards the staff room. 'I can come back if—'

'No. No, it's OK.' Christine brushed past Tom, refusing to meet his eyes. 'Come on in. Tom, if—'

He put a stop to the polite dismissal he presumed was coming his way by drawing her towards him for a totally inappropriate kiss, murmuring, 'You know where I am,' before letting her go and heading doorwards, ignoring both Christine's stunned expression and Maggie's delighted beam.

He had to shove his hands deep into his pockets to stop them from clenching as he moved into the staffroom. He'd learned his lesson the term before; Christine could not be pushed, and trying to force the issue would likely only make things worse. He had to trust that all the talking they'd done over the holidays—which now seemed an aeon ago—had borne fruit and that she would come to him when she was ready. He had to trust that she did indeed trust him … but it was hard. It was hard to let her bear whatever it was alone in addition to the burden of the headship and the growing inconveniences of pregnancy. Perhaps this was his fault. Perhaps he should have taken the headship when Simon offered—

'Penny for them?' Nikki's voice broke into his thoughts and he looked up. She was leaning casually against the kitchen, one corner of her mouth lifted in a half-smile. 'Or maybe it needs more, eh.' She nodded towards the kettle. 'Cuppa? I'm free.'

His jaw set. He wasn't feeling too kindly towards her just now.

He, Christine and Maggie had spent hours over the past week trying to help Eve. They'd asked Nikki to attend their meetings but she'd excused herself when she reasonably could—and appeared at the others on sufferance. It had created an additional anxiety for Christine—one Nikki could have alleviated quite easily by undertaking her own responsibilities instead of offloading them onto everyone else.

'Thanks, but I'm good,' he said shortly, pointedly turning his back on her and going to lift his teaching bag. He paused by the supporting pillar on his way out, annoyed all over again by her soft humming as she prepared her tea.

'You sound chirpy.'

'Yeah.' She grinned. 'Why not? It's a lovely spring day, my exam people are where they're supposed to be, even the P.R.U. kids are on track. What's not to like?'

'What about the fact that your daughter's breaking her heart over your refusing to have anything to do with her?' he snapped, the words pouring out before he could apply a brake.

All the animation fled Nikki's features, leaving her looking pinched.

'Who do you think you are, where do you get off, judging me? From what I remember, Tom Clarkson, you didn't win any parenting prizes yourself when Josh appeared on the scene!'

'That was different!' He slammed a hand on the counter to make his point. 'I didn't even know he existed, what was I supposed to do? Jump for joy? That's not your excuse; you just cut her out of your life like she'd never been—your own kid! I thought the army was about doing your duty and never leaving anyone behind; just as well they kicked you out, eh?' He slammed out, relishing the fierce bang of the door, and stalked down corridors in the direction of his office, still simmering.

He heard a second bang and ignored it. He hoped he'd annoyed her–maybe even annoyed her enough to make her think. She bloody well deserved it.

'Tom! Tom, don't you dare walk away from me—' he heard Nikki shout—bellow—after him, but he kept on moving. He'd had enough of her self-indulgence.

Running footsteps. A hand on his arm; he could tell she'd been in the army, her grip was like steel.

'Tom.'

He stopped, perforce, and turned to look at her.

'You have to understand,' she was saying pleadingly. 'I keep telling you, I didn't want a kid; I'd've aborted if I could. Stuart—Stuart bought her by giving me a divorce. That was our deal, he got a kid, I got a divorce—and Eve would be told I was dead so that she never came looking.'

'But she's here,' Tom reminded her, trying to gentle his tone, trying not to let his disgust at what she'd done show too clearly. 'Her dad's dead. You're not. No matter how you feel about it, you're the adult here, she's the kid. You owe her, not the other way round—and you won't even look at her, you'd much rather run around after Kacey Barry—'

'Someone has to!' It wasn't a yell, not quite. 'If it was up to the rest of you, you'd just let her flounder until she ended up topping herself!'

Tom took a step nearer, his teeth gritting.

'Don't even try it. Don't even try to imply we don't care about Kacey as much as you do. Just because we haven't been exactly where she is… We've all been through enough to understand suffering, to know what it's like to teeter on the brink. In fact,' he added harshly, 'some of us have even experienced suicide firsthand. You are not Kacey's only hope, that's just what you're telling yourself.'

'I—' He heard Nikki's voice catch but he didn't care.

'The truth is, you're using her! You are, that's what—'

'Tom!' she interrupted, but he ignored her. This had been bubbling inside him all week and he was sick of having to watch his tongue.

'She's just an excuse for you, Nikki! An excuse to avoid dealing with the real issue, the one that should matter most to you—'

She slapped him into silence, and as he raised a hand to his stinging cheek he realised why. They were not alone. Kacey was standing to one side, almost but not quite out of his eyeline.

'Kace—' he tried.

It was too late. She made a strange little sound and whirled away.

'I hope you're pleased with yourself,' Nikki said, the words choked. She was nearly as white as Kacey had been, her eyes glittering. 'And just so you know—whatever happens from this, you'll have no-one but yourself to blame!'


Yay! That was closer to my usual length. Sorry to those of you enjoy the super-long ones—and for those of you expecting a Kacey-centric bit, that's coming up next time. Otherwise this would have been extremely long and possibly the next extremely short! Don't forget to let me know what you think!


Next time:

Nikki's predictions prove well-founded as Kacey spirals out of control—and Kevin startles Dynasty with a wildly implausible suggestion.