Hey! I was completely taken aback by the reaction to the last chapter—all the more so since it was literally written in an afternoon with very little in the way of proof-reading or checks. Here's some responses to reviews:

ILoveJamesArthur: LOL, I know, I'm not sure I'm too keen in the direction Dynasty/Kevin seems to be taking either and I'm definitely not keen that they seem to have forgotten she's not a bimbo. She's been getting A* for English A'level, would she really not know how to spell 'courtesy'?!

Paisley: Hmmm… I'm saying nothing! :)

loveistheprotection: Thanks!

Guest: Aw, thanks. Weird though as I churned it out very quickly. Sometimes writing is like blood from a stone and other times it flows…I think this was a flowy time. NOT like the chapter you're about to read which is definitely blood-from-stone territory.

waterlooroadfansince2006: You read over 70,000 words in an hour and a half?! I'm a very fast reader myself and I doubt I could beat that. I'm… impressed.

Lauren and Guest: You'll just have to wait and see what happens next for Connor/Imogen!

I-Wish-Upon-Falling-Stars (seriously, I'm gonna set up a keyboard shortcut for that one, I swear) and dustdancingintheflickerlight, thanks again :)

Jamesy: You really made my day with your review. When people start saying they prefer your version to canon that's just… amazing. Thanks!

What does everyone think of series 9 so far? I'm reserving judgement at the moment because I'm coming to the conclusion that WR really works best when you can watch a whole series more or less at once, marathon style. That's when you get the full benefit. Also, happy dance that series 10 has apparently been commissioned—although I will not be happy if Christine doesn't stay on as head! I'm really enjoying seeing her manipulative side return and Angus Deayton is just… *squee*. Although, I can never watch him without thinking of One Foot in the Grave…

Note: change of pace this time, so apologies in advance!

11.45am, Head's Office

Christine sat at her desk, her eyes fixed unseeingly on the never-ending paperwork in front of her. She couldn't focus on her work, the conversation she'd just had with her son lingering in her mind, reviving memories she'd spent years repressing.

She was so deep in her thoughts that she did not hear the door open or Sonya enter until a large mug of steaming coffee materialised in front of her. Startled, she glanced up to find her secretary glaring down at her with arms folded. Sonya was really not very good at glaring, Christine thought affectionately, but just now she was making a valiant attempt.

'Drink,' Sonya ordered.

Christine raised the mug in salute. 'Thanks for this.' She drank deeply, welcoming the bitter burn of it, the tendrils of warmth that spread through her, banishing the cold inside. When she replaced the mug on the table her secretary was still watching her—but the glare had turned mournful and Christine repressed a groan. Couldn't she have a few minutes peace, a few minutes to get her head together?

'What's wrong?' she asked warily.

Sonya's face grew even longer. 'Maggie phoned,' she began apologetically, and guilt stabbed through the Head. She'd been so busy trying to deal with Dynasty while warding off the remnants of her own past that she'd forgotten what was happening with the Budgens.

'And?' she prompted, her heart sinking as she awaited the inevitable.

'Grantly died an hour ago,' Sonya answered softly. 'It were peaceful in the end, Maggie said. 'E came round an' knew 'er again before 'e went. She was cryin', but happy, if that makes sense.'

Christine nodded, her own eyes filming. 'It makes perfect sense.' She leaned her head against her chair and momentarily closed her eyes against the familiar feeling of numb loss, the grief she'd first experienced alone as a young girl when her mother told her with ruthless piety that her sister was dead. As for Grantly… He'd done his best to welcome her to Waterloo Road, she recalled with a pang, one of the few who'd made the effort. And then she'd embarrassed herself with undone buttons and he'd been comically horrified, as if he'd never seen a woman's bra before—

Something that was half-laugh, half-sob burst from her and Sonya looked concerned. 'Mrs Mulgrew?'

'I'm fine, Sonya.' She wiped at her eyes. 'Just… we'll miss Grantly, grumpy old sod that he was.' Sonya nodded in sorrowful agreement, and Christine bit her lip, her mind already beginning to run through the practicalities. The school would need to be informed, never to mention the kids at the School House. That reminded her of someone else who'd be anxiously awaiting news.

'Does Tom know?'

'Dunno, Maggie never said and well, I didn't like to press 'er just then.'

'Of course not.' She managed a smile for Sonya as she rose and grabbed her overcoat. 'OK. I'll go over there now and see what's happening. If Tom doesn't know—well, I don't want to tell him over the phone, and even if he does he shouldn't be alone with all those kids. He'll be grieving too. Let Nikki know; she's in charge while I'm over there.'

''Course. Mrs M?'

'H'mm?' She turned, straightening the coat's collar.

'Tell 'im I'm thinking of 'im,' Sonya said gently. 'Tell 'im I'll get some bakin' done for them kids just as soon as I'm done with the register. They'll need sommat to smile about an' all.'

Christine could not speak, but the approving hand she rested on Sonya's shoulder as she passed spoke for her and the secretary's eyes filled as she turned away.

'Miss?' Christine's pace down the corridor towards the door slowed. 'Miss!'

She turned, forcing a professional smile.

'Jasmine,' she greeted as the girl came to a stop before her, fidgeting nervously, and Christine suppressed a sigh of impatience. 'What can I do for you?'

Jasmine looked up. ''Ave you 'eard anything 'bout Mr Budgen?' she blurted, rather to Christine's surprise. Jasmine had never known Grantly as a house parent.

'I'm going to the School House now,' she responded, evading the question. For a moment she considered sending Jasmine back to class but that seemed unfair; the girl was a boarder and she looked so downcast just now. 'Want to come with me?'

Jasmine nodded and Christine silently marshalled her towards her car, not speaking again until they'd pulled out of the school car park. 'Right. Are you going to tell me what's bothering you?'

Jasmine was chewing her lip. 'It's Miss McFall,' she said in a rush. 'How long's she gonna be at the School House?'

Christine eyed her as she pulled up in front of the boarding house. 'For the rest of this term at least. Mrs Budgen needs some time to herself at the minute.'

The girl's face fell.

'She means well.' Christine hoped she sounded reassuring rather than impatient. 'I know she can hover a bit, but she does care. You can trust her.'

Jasmine seemed to shrink back against her seat. 'It's just—she's so nosy. She's always askin' an' wantin' to know… I wish she'd leave me alone!'

'Tell her so,' the Head said briskly. 'Politely, mind. I don't want to hear you've been rude to her or any other member of staff, understood?'

Jasmine nodded, and Christine sighed as she unbuckled her belt. 'Good. Come on. You'll know more in a minute, go on.'

Despite Christine's urging, Jasmine tailed her into the house and the older woman had to glance meaningly at the common room before the girl took the hint and went, much to the Head's relief. She wanted to speak to Tom in something resembling privacy and fortunately he'd heard the car and come to the hall to greet her.

'Christine.' He looked haggard, his eyes very bright with tears she guessed he hadn't had time to shed.

She took advantage of the fact they were alone and moved to kiss him gently on the cheek. 'I'm so sorry.'

'Me too,' he returned gruffly. 'I know it's best for him, but… Maggie called. She said she'd let Sonya know, but I didn't expect you—' His voice broke and she put a hand on his arm.

'I'm Head. Where else would I be?' He seemed to relax a little at that. 'Now. The kids, have they been told?'

He shook his head slowly. 'No. Not yet… I wanted to get meself together first. I can't—I can't break down in front of them, can I.'

'Come on then,' she murmured, her hand moving to rest in the crook of his arm. 'Let's go and tell them together.'

12.15pm, School House

'Oi!' Rhiannon called when she spotted Jasmine slip in through the common room's big door. 'What're you doin' here?'

The other girl glanced at her. ''M here with the Head,' she said defiantly. 'She said I could come.'

Rhiannon exchanged a glance with Harley, the dark sensation that had been hovering over her all day suddenly descending. 'Mrs Mulgrew. What's—why's she 'ere?'

Jasmine shrugged. 'Budgen, I guess.' Her tone verged on the dismissive. 'Oh, an' it looks like we're stuck with McFall for t'rest of t'term. Mrs M says so.'

'I don't care about her,' Rhiannon spat. 'What about Budgen? Has he—' She couldn't finish and Jasmine eyed her curiously, as if wondering why she cared. Rhiannon turned away, resentment filling her. What was Jasmine doing here anyhow? She'd been nothing but trouble, she'd worried Maggie ever since she moved in and now she was moving in on McFall—although Rhiannon couldn't really blame her for that. She wasn't feeling too fond of the history teacher herself just now, given their confrontation that morning.

'OK, everyone, could you look this way please,' Mrs Mulgrew called, and Rhiannon shuffled closer to Harley and Lula. They looked at her with sad smiles and, encouraged, she put an arm around each of them as they braced themselves for whatever was coming.

'Are we all here?' the Head asked, and a murmur of assent rose. Rhiannon gulped, her pulse thumping in her head and her belly. 'OK. Look, there's no easy way to tell you this, but… Maggie rang a while ago. Mr Budgen has gone, he went peacefully, she said.'

The usually noisy common room was absolutely still until it was broken by a loud sob coming from Lula.

Mr Clarkson spoke at that point. 'I know it's really hard to let him go, but you should remember this, you lot. Until the very end he didn't really know where he was, he only knew he was in pain and with strangers. He told me once that he wanted to go out kickin' and screamin', with a bang rather than a whimper—and if anyone can tell me where that line's from in the next day or two I'll bet that Grantly'll be toasting you, no matter where he is!' Everyone laughed, the atmosphere lightening, and Mrs Mulgrew came forward once again.

'It's OK to be sad, and it's OK to laugh,' she told them. 'That's all part of remembering people. Now. Mrs Budgen is coming back tonight and I want you all to treat her as normally as possible, OK? Bereavement isn't a disease. She'll want to talk and laugh—and cry—about Grantly with you, but she'll want time for herself too so you'll need to respect that. So… Miss McFall will be staying on as House Mistress until further notice.'

'We don't want her, miss,' someone shouted. 'She don't get it, she doesn't get us. We want Clarkson, don't we?'

'Yeah, why can't we 'ave Clarkson?' Rhiannon argued loudly. 'He's miles better'n McFall any day. What do you say, you lot? Who d'you want? McFall or Clarkson? I say Clarkson!'

'Yeah,' Harley echoed. 'I say Clarkson too.' He started to chant, a chant that was quickly taken up by the others. 'Clarkson, Clarkson, Clarkson—'

'Now come on, you're not being fair,' Mr Clarkson put in, his voice cutting across the growing riot. 'You haven't given Miss McFall a chance yet.'

'We don't need to,' Harley said, uncharacteristically resentful. 'We know 'er already, sir. She's nice in school but here? She's a nosy cow, she never leaves us alone and she keeps treatin' us like we're little kids. She never tells us anythin', like this mornin'.'

Rhiannon got to her feet. 'Yeah, cos she caught me and she knew I were well worried, and she never said a thing. She wanted me to go right back to bed 'sif I were a baby an' I just wanted t—to know!' To her horror, the tears that had lurked in the background all day overflowed and she sniffled loudly. 'Please sir, miss,' she said quietly. 'We don't want 'er. Not now.'

Mrs Mulgrew was watching with an odd expression. Finally she said, 'All right. It sounds like you've got reasons for feeling as you do. Come back to school and we'll sort it out properly.'

'We will not!' Lula's forcefulness startled the chanters, returning them to silence. 'We will not come because we know once we are there you will not listen to us. You are just trying—trying to placate us to get your own way, like all grown ups do.'

Mrs Mulgrew's eyebrows went up as she turned a considering gaze on the Year 11 pupil, her lips tightening in disapproval.

'Lula. What exactly are you doing here? You're not a boarder so you should be in school, young lady. Go on, get moving or you'll find yourself spending a week in the cooler catching up.'

'But miiiss,' Lula complained. 'That is so unfair. I loved Mr Budgen, I spend all my time here, I am a boarder here in everything except it is that I sleep at home! Why should I not have a say?'

'Lula!' Mr Clarkson roared, making them all jump. 'You heard the Head. Shift, now—or I'll make sure you never set a foot in here again. And the rest of you! Mrs Mulgrew's quite right. This can all be sorted out at school so—' He jerked his head in the direction of the school buildings. 'Move. We're not trying to be horrible,' he continued more gently. 'You won't have to go into lessons, we know you're upset, but we do need you in school. So… please?'

Rhiannon sniffled loudly and shook her head, her purple pony tail flying. 'No, sir. We're not movin'. Not 'til Maggie's back.'

For a moment she thought Mr Clarkson was going to lose it, but Mrs Mulgrew leaned over and whispered something into his ear and he nodded. 'Fine,' he said through his teeth. 'They're all yours.' His glare moved back to Lula. 'Apart from you, that is. You're coming with me. Yes you are!' he added when the fifth year looked as if she was going to argue. Reluctantly, the girl got to her feet and the Deputy Head placed a hand on her shoulder, pushing her in front of him. When they reached the door he turned to look at the Head.

She gave him a short nod. 'I've got this, Tom,' she said softly. 'I'll see you back at school.' The front door closed loudly, cutting off the rumbles of Lula's renewed protest, and the remaining occupants of the common room eyed their headmistress nervously.

She did not begin to moralise, as Rhiannon had half-expected her to. Instead, she went straight for the jugular, almost instinctively finding the one thing that would bring them straight to heel.

'I'm going to give you fifteen minutes,' she told them abruptly. 'Fifteen minutes to get your heads together. Then I'm going to ask you again if you're going to come back to school. You should know that if you say no I'll be straight on the phone to your social workers, asking that you be placed elsewhere for the rest of the term. Neither Maggie nor Miss McFall should have to deal with insubordination in the house just now.'

The School House kids exchanged horrified glances at that and Rhiannon's heart sank. They were nearly all in care, and for most of the them the School House was the nearest thing to a home many of them had known. With that single threat Mrs Mulgrew had won; the others would capitulate, they had no other choice.

Then the Head surprised her. Just as everyone else began to scramble to their feet and move slowly towards the door, she came to sit next to Rhiannon on the big sofa.

'How are you doing?'

Rhiannon started, lifting her eyes to meet Mrs Mulgrew's. Once again, the tears threatened to overflow and she shook her head fiercely, determined not to allow them to spill.

The older woman sighed. 'We'll all miss him, Rhiannon, but life has to go on. The school has to go on, and it's my responsibility to see that this disrupts your education as little as possible.'

Rhiannon said nothing, her gaze returning to her shiny black fingernails and staying there. Mrs Mulgrew continued to talk, saying all the usual grown-up teachery things, and she allowed it to wash over her while she struggled to regain her composure.

Until her brain caught up with what Mrs Mulgrew had just said and her head snapped up. 'Did I hear yer right? You want me to be a prefect? Me?'

Mrs Mulgrew did not smile. Not quite, but the corners of her mouth twitched and Rhiannon's eyes narrowed; she'd spent enough hours in the older woman's classroom to know her tells, and this one meant that she had something up her sleeve.

'Miss?'

'Listen.' Mrs Mulgrew leaned forward, resting her hands on her knee. 'There's two parts to this. Firstly, Miss McFall is going to need help to manage and you're both the oldest and the most senior boarder. The kids listen to you, they've proved that today—and you've proved that you can be a leader. Secondly,' she went on before Rhiannon could interrupt, 'as a prefect you'll have a certain amount of authority in the house. You can act as a bridge between Miss McFall and the others and she respects authority. Having this'—she pressed something cold and angular into Rhiannon's palm— 'will make her listen to you. Do you hear what I'm saying?'

The sixth former studied the enamelled red shield badge engraved with 'Prefect' in curly gold letters, hardly able to believe that it was for her. She glanced at the Head with dubious eyes. 'Are you sure? 'Cos you know what I'm like, I'm as gobby as Dynasty but wivout 'er brains.'

'This isn't about brains, this is about strength of character and you've got loads of that,' Mrs Mulgrew told her firmly. 'Come on, Rhiannon. I need you to do this. For the school. For Maggie.' She paused. 'For Grantly, who helped to build this place. Please.'

Rhiannon's vision went blurry. 'OK. OK, I—if you put it that way.' She sniffled, wiping the back of her hand against her nose.

Mrs Mulgrew smiled, her own eyes very bright. 'Well done. And… I have another idea I think you'll like, but I need to talk it over with Maggie and Mr Clarkson first. Right, then,' she continued in her usual tone as the other boarders—their fifteen minutes up—began to dribble cautiously back into the common room, suitably coated and bagged. 'I'm pleased to see you're all ready to go back to school,' she added as she got to her feet. 'Very pleased. And I hope you'll be just as pleased to hear that you won't be left completely to Miss McFall's tender mercies.'

Rhiannon glanced at her sideways, taken aback by her tone. Was it possible that Mrs M understood their issue with McFall, really understood it? 'Cos it bloody well sounded like it.

Mrs Mulgrew indicated that Rhiannon should stand. 'As you know, the staff are choosing prefects this afternoon but I've decided to make one appointment straight away. As of today, Rhiannon is both a house and school prefect, and it'll be her job to help Miss McFall run the house in the way you want it to go. Any problems, go to her—understood?'

Rhiannon waited for the response with her hands clasped at her waist and her eyes fixed firmly on the floor. She'd never get over it if they hated the idea, if they didn't want her. She glanced up in time to catch Jasmine's scowl and her heart sank. If the only other sixth former in the house hated the idea, what would the rest of them think?

It was Harley who broke the silence that had greeted the Head's announcement. 'You mean McFall can't have it all 'er own way?'

'Absolutely not,' Mrs Mulgrew affirmed. 'She's here strictly on a temporary basis while Maggie's on compassionate leave. This is your home, people, and I want it to stay that way.'

'An' what if she does sommat we don't like?'

'Take it to Rhiannon—within reason, that is. I don't want to hear of you complaining about reasonable rules, such as lights out or when you're called in the morning!' Rhiannon—an inveterate oversleeper if ever there was one—wrinkled her nose at that and the atmosphere turned from heavy to light in a heartbeat. Mrs Mulgrew's smile broadened. 'If Rhiannon can't thrash it out with Miss McFall and a House Meeting doesn't sort it, then she'll bring the issue to Mr Clarkson and I and we will deal with it, I promise you.'

Harley was grinning. 'Awesome. Thanks, miss. That'll do us, right?' He looked at his compeers and Rhiannon felt her face flame when she saw how her fellow pupils visibly relaxed.

'Good,' Mrs Mulgrew told them briskly as she moved towards the door. 'It's nearly one o'clock. If you lot want lunch I suggest you—' She broke off with a grin of her own as the boarders hurtled past her en masse. 'Well.' She turned to Rhiannon, her smile fading. 'Are you coming?'

For a moment Rhiannon longed to say no, to say that she preferred to stay behind to grieve in her own way. She was nearly eighteen and the Head couldn't force her to go if she didn't want to—until she remembered how Harley's face a few minutes before.

She swallowed hard and came forward. 'Yes, miss. Need to, don't I?'

The Head gave her a nod and Rhiannon followed her to the car, her fingers still stroking the smooth coolness of the badge that now rested proudly on her blazer. She was somebody at school at last. She was a prefect.

TBC, of course. Don't forget to give me a shout!