Wow, that was quite a drop in comments last time, weird how it goes. I hope it means people aren't losing interest. Huge, huge thanks must go then to Karla, Anon and Paisley, as ever.

Anon: You'll have to wait and see about Connor and Simon! More of that coming up in this fourth episode, although not right away. Good idea about Sue, have to think about that!

Paisley: Connor and Christine, their relationship is so marvellously twisted that just as you think they've reached a even keel it suddenly drops to a new low. Possibly why I enjoy writing it so much! This episode as a whole will have more Kacey in it, so stay tuned.

Karla: LOL.

NB: There's a trigger alert on this chapter. Please, if you are or have ever been affected by ED think twice before reading further.

Mulgrew Household, 6.50am

Tom's eyes popped open of their own volition without the nagging of his alarm, and he squinted into the winter darkness as he tried to work out what had wakened him. A glance at his phone told him the time and he sighed; no point in going back to sleep at this rate. One hand reached out automatically for Christine and he frowned when he encountered cool sheets instead of warm skin and her customary protest at having to get up when it was still dark.

A flick of the lamp switch revealed that he was indeed alone. Alarm propelled him out of bed and down the stairs—for once, there was no need to worry about waking Connor and Imogen—towards the kitchen where he expected (and feared) to find his lover.

She turned at his entry, her eyes darkened by the unforgiving overhead lighting.

'Morning,' he greeted, trying for cheer. 'Kettle on?'

'Not yet,' she croaked. Her chin lifted. 'I er, I came to get a drink.'

'Of water?' he prompted, too quickly.

His heart sank when she made no answer; that was in itself an answer, and not the one he wanted.

'That won't help, you know it won't,' he said, hoping he sounded reasonable. 'You go back to the bottle now and you'll destroy everything you've achieved in the past year, all the bridges you and Connor've built—' He knew better than to add and it could blow our chances of a baby sky high… Now was most assuredly not the time.

She laughed harshly. 'Bridges, what bridges? He couldn't wait to get away.'

'Oh, come on.' He crossed to her and rubbed her arms. 'He's just gone to Imogen's for a few days, he'll be back.'

'Will he.' Her tone was odd. 'Who says I want him back?'

Puzzled by her contradictory statements, Tom withdrew. 'Christine?'

All he could see was the top of her head, silver and bleached gold mixing with brown roots along the line of her centre parting, and his heart began to thump uncomfortably as the nagging suspicion that he hadn't been told the full story behind the younger Mulgrews' decampment to Sally Stewart's turned into certainty.

'You going to tell me what's going on?'

Silence.

His grip on Christine's shoulders tightened, gaining purchase through the silky slipperiness of her dressing gown. 'You told me Sally'd been complaining she hadn't seen Imogen and they'd decided to move there for a bit.'

'Yeah,' she agreed, her voice rasping.

'But you've been avoiding them.' Memory supplied more evidence. 'Sonya said you'd arranged for cover for most of your lessons with them this week. She wanted to know if you were OK.'

'Good for Sonya.'

He gave her a shake, annoyed by the ironic edge. 'Don't be like that, she cares about you.'

'More fool her.' He twitched inwardly at the bitterness that permeated every syllable. 'She's wasting her time, I'm not worth it.'

Something in him snapped. 'And you're worth so much more drunk?'

Christine raised her head at that, her eyes hooded. 'Don't knock it. Drink doesn't ask awkward questions, it won't talk back, it won't walk away.' The corners of her mouth quivered. 'My son told me last week it would have been better if he'd never been born, do you really need me to explain why alcohol's a refuge right now?' She twitched out of his hold and reached for the glass behind her on the counter, tossing the clear contents back with a single practiced movement of the wrist.

Tom was too stricken to be angry, everything that was sensitive in him cringing on her behalf. It was a cruel thing to say to any parent, but to say it to Christine… He swallowed. 'Why didn't you tell me?'

She glanced at him. 'What was the point? What were you gonna do, drag him back like a naughty kid? I wouldn't have wanted to see him then anyway.'

He grabbed her arm and drew her towards the table. 'Tell me now.'

Her eyes fell. 'I—I can't, Tom. Not yet.' Another quiver. 'It hurts too much, I just want to forget it.'

Tom studied her for a long moment, unsure of what to say. A comment from Kacey several days before provided an inkling and he quoted, '"You can't protect yourself by cutting yourself off… drink and drugs are not the answer…" Sound familiar?'

The planes of Christine's face were very sharp as she glared. 'Damn you, Tom Clarkson!'

He refused to back down.

'It was good advice, are you gonna take it or just dish it out?' It came out more confrontational than he'd intended.

She buried her face in her hands and he allowed it. When the clock had ticked through several minutes he decided he'd waited long enough and peeled them back to ask, apparently à propos of nothing, 'Are you coming to school today?'

She shot him a look.

'Haven't got a choice, have I? Can't stay here alone, too much time to brood and—' A furtive glance towards the cupboard under the sink said it all, and his grasp tightened on her hands. It drew her gaze back to him. 'Why are you still here? I've been hell to live with the past week, I've been a total bitch, I can admit it. So why are you still here?'

The wondering note in the question broke his heart.

'Because I love you, you idiot!'

She pressed her lips together as though to steady them, and hers fingers twisted in his, drawing their clasped hands towards her heart. 'Keep telling me, Tom. Someday I might believe it.'

'Idiot,' he grumbled again without heat. 'What kind of guy d'you think I am? I wouldn't have suggested a baby if I wasn't planning on staying put. For good.'

Christine bit into her lip. 'Connor said—he said it'd be better to stop trying. Apparently I'm so totally rubbish as a mother that bringing another child into the world shouldn't be allowed.'

Tom stared, horrified all over again. 'He said that?'

Her composure was starting to fracture, he could see. Of all her fault lines, this one ran deepest. 'As good as.'

I'm gonna kill him, Tom thought as he pulled her into a tight hug. When I get hold of that boy later I swear I'm gonna kill him.

Stewart household, 7.30am

The lights on Imogen's bedroom flashed on and off and she groaned and threw her arm over her eyes. A tap on the shoulder made her squint up; it was her mum.

'I'm about to put the breakfast on. You'd better get moving or you'll be late, and you know how slow he is.' Sally exaggerated the sign for 'slow', drawing it out, and Imogen grinned.

'Too right. Give us twenty minutes?'

Her mum nodded and left, and Imogen leaned over Connor, buried as usual within the depths of their duvet with only very top of his dark head showing.

'Time to get up,' she whispered, her stomach rumbling and her nose starting to twitch as the rich scent of frying bacon filled the house.

Connor grumbled. She could feel the vibrations of it through her fingers.

'Mum's cooking,' she added, hoping that would kick him into gear. 'Can't you smell it? She's even worse than your mum.'

He went rigid beneath her touch and Imogen winced. She should have known better than to mention Christine.

Connor twisted so that he was facing her, his expression blank. 'I don't have a mum.'

'Connor—'

'You heard her,' he insisted. 'I said I was sorry and she said it wasn't good enough. She couldn't even look at us the next day, that's why I had to get out of there.' A beat. 'And she's been avoiding us, you know she has.'

Imogen blew out a sigh, sifting for the right words. 'You… you were a bit harsh. And… honest, Connor, would it be so bad? If they had a kid?'

'But what if—'

She put her hand over his mouth, cutting off the eternal cycle of what-ifs and maybes that she'd heard multiple times before. 'It's different. Tom loves Christine, everyone can see it, he's crap at hiding it. He's not Mr Byrne, he's not goin' anywhere, he can look after your mum and the kid, if there is one.' She traced his profile with a finger. 'Last term, when you and Kace went missing? Me and your mum had words and … well, Tom got involved and he told me it wasn't our job to look after her, that we had to live our own lives. He was right.'

Connor looked desolate. 'I've looked after her my whole life, I don't know how to—'

She interrupted him with a kiss. 'It's not your job to save her.' Another kiss. 'If you're that desperate for someone to look after—' She gave a little squeal as he rolled on top of her, momentarily taking the upper hand, but when his head dropped to rest on her shoulder she knew that this wouldn't be so easily solved.

She gritted her teeth and wrapped her arms tightly around her husband, holding him to her in an attempt to soothe the tremors running through his form. They'd have to get up or her mum would be in on them again, but she could give Connor a little more time. Today was the careers fair and she knew Christine was one of the staff members who'd be patrolling the hall, checking that Years 11 and 12 weren't simply using the break from usual lessons as an excuse to skive off. Unless she found a way to wriggle out of that too, Imogen thought uneasily.

She blew out a gusty sigh. Bloody Mulgrews, they were as bad as each other. Sensitive, too quick to react, stubborn as mules, the pair of them… How could anyone help if they wouldn't even talk to each other?

She gave a slow smile. Well, she wasn't gonna let them do it. Times had changed. The Mulgrews were no longer alone in their private dysfunctional hell; they had herself and Tom and Dynasty and Kevin. And it could be a way to get the latter pair together once more… Energy surged through her and she prodded Connor away from her and encouraged him up by the simple means of stripping the duvet from the bed.

He gaped at her and she put her hands on her hips, Dynasty-fashion.

'Shift,' she ordered, jabbing her thumb in the direction of the bathroom. 'Get moving and we'll go for that food Mum's murderin'.We've got work to do today.'

He stumbled to his feet, a puzzled frown in place. 'Work?'

She shoved a towel into his arms, dumping his washbag on top. 'Yeah, Dyn and Kevin. Haven't you been wanting to sort them out?'

A slow smile spread across his face. 'You mean you're gonna stop hanging out with Louisa?'

'I like Lulu, she's a mate,' Imogen told him firmly, 'but she's not Dynasty. Dynasty's still my best mate and she's back today. Louisa shouldn't have muscled in there and Kev needs to be reminded what he's missing, yeah?' An emphatic nod indicated Connor's agreement. 'So get dressed. Forget the careers fair, today we're gonna get Dynasty and Kevin talking again or my name's not Imogen Mulgrew!'

Connor departed for the shower with alacrity after that, and Imogen smirked as she laid out their uniforms. Mulgrew, indeed. Her husband and mother-in-law were about to learn (slowly) that with a little help from their friends she could be as Machiavellian as they.

Barry household, 8.00am

The loud gush of water flowing from the old-fashioned bath mixer tap provided a covering soundtrack as Kacey bent over the loo, determined to be rid of the cooked breakfast her mother had foisted on herself and Dynasty that morning.

Usually she could avoid it, but this morning she'd wakened shaking and with a thumping headache. Her heart had sank to her slippers when she staggered into the bathroom first thing and saw her chalk-white face; she'd known then that there was no way to get out of it, and so it had proved.

Nor had Dynasty been much help, she thought resentfully as she straightened, using one hand to steady herself against the wall and wiping her mouth with the other. She'd blabbed about how Kacey had looked like death warmed up and then they'd all stilled because of—because of Barry and Carol had forged ahead in that determined-to-be-cheerful fashion that Kacey had come to loathe, slapping bacon and sausages and eggs and beans and black pudding on the table and manhandling her daughters into sitting down.

Thankfully, most of her attention had been on Dynasty, who was returning to school for the first time since her suspension. That meant Kacey was able to eat a little less, but she'd still had to force down a sausage, a rasher and some of the beans. She'd left the black pudding–something she'd always hated—and Dynasty's complaint about the eggs being fried in butter instead of being poached or done in olive oil had given Kacey an excuse to leave those too.

Well, the rest of it was gone now, she thought triumphantly as she gave her teeth a thorough cleaning. Exhilaration surged through her with the renewed realisation that at the end of the day she could retain control over this. People could do and say whatever they liked in every other aspect of her life, but in this, the most fundamental of things, she ultimately held the upper hand.

She leaned closer, studying her reflection in the mirror. She was still a bit white but it was only just February, for God's sake. Who expected her to look tanned at this time of year, and if she turned up at school with all that crap plastered on her face that'd only give muppets like Darren Hughes more license to make fun than they had already. Her cheekbones were becoming increasingly pronounced, that was good, it meant she was losing fat there. And best of all, her tiny bust had all but disappeared, leaving her so flat in front that the bandages she'd once resorted to were no longer necessary. It was working, it could only get better—but no-one must know. If anyone else knew, they'd try to control this too. This was the one part of her life that was hers alone.

'Kace! Are you done yet?' Dyn, sounding like she was in a right flap.

'Yeah, just a mo.' Kacey glanced around the bathroom, ensuring it was clean and everything as it should be, and turned to unlock the door. 'All yours, sis.'

Dynasty eyed her askance. 'What's got into you, you're dead chirpy all of a sudden.'

'Yeah.' Kacey beamed and sidled past her sister. 'Careers fair today, better than lessons, innit?'

Dynasty's arms folded, her eyes narrowing. 'We don't get out of everythin'.'

'We get out of most things,' Kacey argued. 'Harl says no science today!'

The older girl glanced over her shoulder, down the stairs, and pulled Kacey back into the bathroom. 'Listen babe, about that—'

Kacey shrugged it off. 'Just leave it, Dyn. I wouldn't have told yer, but you wouldn't shut up!'

'You're me wee sister,' Dynasty said, sounding hurt. 'Our baby. No-one's allowed to upset yer or they'll 'ave me to deal with.'

'Dyn… I'm not a baby no more. I can deal with it, honest. I've already got Harl and Lula looking out for us and Mrs M, I don't need you hovering over me shoulder an' all!'

'Do you promise you'll tell Christine or Tom if that Spark cow gets at yer again?'

Kacey blinked, as always disconcerted by her sister's new habit of referring to those members of staff by their given names. 'Yeah.'

Dynasty didn't look convinced. 'You swear?'

She tilted her head on one side and lifted her little finger. 'Pinky swear.'

That worked, as she'd known it would. Dynasty was as soft as they came, despite her hard-as-nails exterior.

The older girl was still smiling when they drew back from their embrace and Kacey decided now was the moment to ask the question she'd been longing to pose all week.

'Dyn… see when you go back to school today?'

Dynasty turned from the mirror, bristle brush in hand. 'Yeah?'

Kacey allowed a corner of her mouth to turn up in a semblance of her old cheeky grin. 'You gonna make up with Kevin?'

Her sister did not reply at once, but Kacey could see her reflection in the mirror. She was tight-lipped, but the younger girl did not miss the sheen in her eyes. Encouraged, she sidled closer. 'Come on, Dyn. You miss 'im, stop pretending yer don't.'

Dynasty whirled, slamming her brush on the shelf above the sink. 'Never said I didn't, did I?' Kacey frowned. 'All of yous actin' all miffed cos I dumped Kevin, well, I never. I was trying to give him some space, like. You know what Mum's been like with him—'

'Kev didn't mind,' Kacey protested.

'And how d'you know that, eh? Kev's 'ad a hard life, Munch. His mum treated him like dirt, it must be like all his Christmases come at once for our mum to want him. It's not right, it's not right for 'im or for us. Barry's dead, kiddo, and the sooner we accept that an' move on the better for all of us!'

'I miss 'im,' Kacey blurted as Dynasty picked up her brush and attacked her hair with new energy. At once the brush fell from the older girl's hand as she turned to pull Kacey close.

'I know you do, babe. Mum an' me an' all—' but Kacey was shaking her head. Dynasty hadn't got it.

'I'm not talkin' about Barry, I'm talking about Kevin an' Connor and even Imogen… we never see them no more.' Dynasty blinked and Kacey grabbed at her arm. 'Please, Dyn? Please fix it? Just talk to 'em, I don't wanna lose anyone else. Please?' She felt sick as she added that last desperate please, her heart beating extra-fast as she awaited her sister's response.

Dynasty's blue gaze was speculative as she studied her. 'I'll do you a deal, eh?'

'Deal?' Kacey hadn't expected that and her chest constricted. 'What deal?'

'I'll sort it with Kev and the rest on the condition that you come shoppin' with me, yeah?'

'Aw Dyn—'

Dynasty put a hand on her shoulder and twisted her to face the mirror. 'Just look at yourself, babe. Those trainers are well shockin' and the trousers are about to fall off of yer.' Kacey tried and failed to suppress a squeak of horror, and the older girl's hands tightened on her shoulders. 'Don't look so scared, I won't try to put you in a skirt, I promise.'

Kacey's throat was so tight from pure unadulterated terror that she couldn't have spoken if she'd wanted to. Fortunately, their mother came to her rescue by shouting that it was nearly twenty past eight and more than time for them to be on their way, and she took advantage of it to dive past Dynasty in order to get to her own room. Once there, she slammed the door shut and leaned against it, breathing hard.

How was she gonna do this? Dynasty wasn't stupid, she'd been a bit preoccupied lately, but a shopping trip would throw Kacey squarely into the spotlight and there was no way she could wriggle out of it. Kacey struggled to fit a size four these days, Dynasty would know there was something up as soon as she realised that and then she'd act, Kacey knew her sister well enough to be sure of it. But if she didn't go, would Dynasty keep her end of the deal? She swallowed hard as her mind switched back and forth from one seemingly absolute choice to the other: her secret, or Dynasty's happiness.

Secret or sister. Which to choose?

If only there was another way…

TBC

Next time: Tom contrives to annoy both Sue and Mika, and the tangled relationships amongst the younger crowd promise a more complicated careers day than anyone had envisaged...

Please don't forget to let me know what you think!