(I really need to stop deleting chapters, but I've deleted the other chapter 34 so this one is the right one. All you need to know is that Imogen is not pregnant. Okay. Thank-you. Enjoy and that)

...

'To Mum.

Happy birthday.

Lots of love, Connor x

P.s, Thank-you for sticking by me after everything I've done.'

The message in the card that Christine found balanced on the kitchen sideboard alongside a lopsided bunch of flowers warmed her heart; she had actually forgotten her own birthday until she had seen it, having had more important things so focus on lately. Birthdays were never really her thing, celebrating getting older always seemed a bit strange to her, especially as the years went on. They made her feel old and anyway, the majority of people used birthdays as an excuse to party and drink excessively and of course, she had never needed an excuse to do that. Reading the card again, she smiled proudly as she realised she had the loveliest son in the world. Connor was actually thanking her for sticking by him. Bless him, she thought as she placed the flowers in some water.

...

"I'm going to be the laughing stock." Imogen felt more and more paranoid with every step as she walked hand in hand with her boyfriend into school. She'd told as many people as she could that she wasn't actually pregnant after all but still, gossip spreads around Waterloo Road as quickly as a disease in a third world country.

"Anyone laughs, they'll have to go through me." Connor replied, squeezing her hand comfortingly.

"Oh, Rocky, is that you? I didn't recognise you for a moment there."

They both laughed; they were happier than they had been in ages.

"Yeah, yeah, very funny. Did we have any History homework, by the way?" He asked, as they got to Ms McFall's classroom.

Imogen took her seat. "No, I don't think so. But your coursework is overdue, remember? She said she wanted it done today."

"Great." Connor mumbled, racking his brains to remember the last place he'd seen it. Maybe it was in his bedroom. Oh, well.

The lesson passed reasonably fast after Ms McFall bustled in, clipboard in hand as usual. She gave an emotional speech about her relatives who fought in the war, complete with an old, frail looking book of poetry direct from the front line. Imogen got frustrated with the looks directed her way, some sympathetic, some obviously judging her and mentally calling her a slut, so she went against her belief that personal things should be kept off Facebook and uploaded a status explaining the situation. After some annoying comments from Rhiannon about dirty hands and a quick argument between her and Scout, the bell finally went and Connor and Imogen headed off, practically joined at the hip. Both were determined not to let anything get in between them again; they were going to focus all of their efforts on being in love and no external forces would destroy that.

...

Nothing could be heard but the brief chinking of mugs onto the table in the staff room; it was fairly empty, only the lucky teachers with free periods residing there. Christine was making herself a cup of tea, remembering with conflicting emotions how she used to have to get her timings right when making one, so as to have time to pour the right measure of vodka into it before the students got to class. How times have changed... now she was pretty content with drinking her plain tea, coffee if she felt like a change. As she started to relax before lesson, Audrey came strolling in, breaking her peace.

"Christine, can I have a word? Well, there's a couple of things actually."

"Sure. What can I do for you?"

"It's just that I can't seem to be able to get Connor to finish his History coursework. There's a couple of weeks left before the deadline though, but I like to set my own so I can cast my eye over and check what needs improving. It's not too much of a worry, as long as he gets it done as soon as possible. I just thought I'd mention it."

"Oh, right, okay, um, I'll have a word. He's late on his English coursework, too." The last comment was just her thinking out loud. "Was there something else?"

"Yes," Audrey glanced at the clock; she was teaching soon. "I was just at reception and someone was asking for you. If I remember rightly, I believe she said her name was Debbie."

Christine paled. What the hell was her estranged mother doing here? They hadn't spoken for years; a huge fall-out had ripped their relationship apart. Steadying herself on her feet by resting her weight on the sideboard, Christine panicked, contemplating her options. She could go and face the music or she could just avoid reception all day and hope that her mother was eventually escorted from the premises. Whatever she decided to do, this whole thing had put a massive dampener on her day. It was times like these when the urge finally kicked in; the need for her anesthetic flared up, despite being sober for months now. She vaguely heard Audrey ask her if everything was okay.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, everything's fine." She lied. "I have to go."

...

Claustrophobia had never been a problem for Christine before but as she sped down the corridors of the school, willing herself to stay calm, the hallways seemed eerily narrower and the walls were tightening. She stopped abruptly outside of reception and took a deep breath, telling herself that there's no need to get frightened or wound up, she didn't even know all the facts. Maybe it was a different Debbie? Whatever it was, it was driving her mad with worry so she composed herself and entered, coming face to face with her mother for the first time in years.

At first glance, Christine saw that her mum hadn't changed but a proper look disregarded that. Debbie's normally glamorously dyed violet coloured hair was now a mousy brown, tinged with noticeable patches of grey and her make-up had been toned down so much that the new wrinkles were visible. Her eye's looked puffy and red, as if she had been crying. The awkward atmosphere in the room seemed to intensify with every second that passed - neither knew what to say.

Finally, Debbie decided to be the grown-up and broke the ice with a curt, "Hello, love."

"Mum... what are you doing here?" Christine was speechless - they fell out so spectacularly that she thought she would never hear from her mother again.

"Something has happened. It's only fair I told you face to face. Is there somewhere we can talk?"

Noticing the distress in her mothers voice, Christine asked Michael whether she could take a couple of hours off - it took a while to convince him but she somehow managed it and drove herself and Debbie back to her house. Silent tension once again filled the air and the car journey was unbearable; when they got back to the house, Christine put the kettle on and decided to make the effort. You only got one mother, after all, and if Connor ever abandoned her so effortlessly as she had abandoned her own it would break her heart. Despite wanting to make up with her mother, though, what happened between them was a constant at the forefront of her mind and at the time, it hurt her so much that Christine was finding it hard to forgive.

"Are you still drinking?" Debbie asked, randomly.

"I'm almost five months sober now."

"That's... that's brilliant!" Suddenly, Debbie's demeanour flipped. "I'm so proud of you!"

"Thanks." Her daughter said, with a smile. "Now, are you going to tell me the real reason you're here?"

Elation turned to sadness once again. "It's difficult. I don't like to talk about it."

"You're worrying me now, Mum."

Tears sprang into Debbie's eyes. "It's your father. He's... he's dead."

The relationship between father and daughter was never brilliant. He was a hard-worker, constantly on the phone or staying late at the office. It led to some unintended neglect towards his wife and children (Christine has a sister), but nevertheless she adored him and to hear of his death was heart-breaking. Christine was taken aback; she knew something was wrong the moment she laid eyes on her mother in the school reception but she never once expected this.

"When?" Her questions were sharp but it's how she dealt with grief, especially when it was such a shock. "I mean, how?"

"Before I tell you, I need you to understand something. I didn't tell you because I thought it was for the best. Your sister and I agreed."

"Didn't tell me what?" She asked, her suspicions rising.

"Christine... your father died two months ago. He was diagnosed with cancer last year and it became terminal. He passed away peacefully in his sleep."

Rendered speechless, Christine's hands began to shake with fury. "Why didn't you tell me? Why would you keep it a secret from me? He was my dad!"

"I hadn't spoken to you in years! You did not make the effort to contact me. I didn't even know where you lived. I don't even know what my own grandson looks like!"

"So you didn't tell me my own father had been diagnosed with cancer, let alone DEAD... because of spite? That's low, even by your standards."

"What do you mean, my standards?"

"You know what you did, mother." Christine spat the last word with pure disgust. Every bone in her body was screaming for alcohol. It was scaring her; she hadn't felt an urge this strong for a long time.

"Please, not this again. I was trying to help you! You must understand that! You were a bloody wreck, drinking yourself half to death and neglecting that poor boy!"

The falling out dated all the way back to Connor's sixth birthday - the night that Debbie received a phone-call from her terrified, young grandson explaining as best he could that his mummy had hurt herself and he was scared. Rushing back, Debbie got her daughter to the hospital and stayed in the family room with Connor, anxiously waiting on news. Exhausted, Connor fell asleep on her knee and as she watched him sleeping peacefully, she made the hardest decision of her life - she requested a meeting with social services. Half of Debbie felt like she was betraying her daughter but this needed to happen; someone had to put that little boy first. He didn't deserve the life he would inevitably get with Christine.

When Christine regained conciousness, the first she thing she asked was to see him. She wanted to give him a cuddle, tell him she loved him and mentally curse herself for traumatising him like that. But they wouldn't let her; she was informed that Debbie had applied for temporary custody, citing her belief that her grandson would be in danger if he carried on living alone with an alcoholic.

"I was never going to win worlds best mother, but what you tried to do was out of order. How could you even think about taking him away from me? You were worried about my drinking, right? You do realise that if you had taken him away from me it would have tipped me over the edge? I would have drank myself to death and you would have had that on your conscience for the rest of your life."

Debbie rolled her eyes. "Cut the melodramatics, love. I dropped the allegations."

"You cut the allegations after I begged you! Can you even begin to imagine what I went through when I thought there was possibility that I could lose Connor?"

"He would have been better off with me and you know it! Where is he, anyway? Jail? Because that's where I always suspected he would end up if I let you carry on screwing him up!"

Amidst the increasingly louder voices, neither woman heard the door open. Connor had came home early for his History coursework, deciding to be a good student and get it done in his free period. Entering the living room, he didn't recognise the older woman but had a strange feeling that he should.

"What's going on?" Connor began; they were clearly discussing him, and he had had quite enough of snide remarks today.

Debbie was silent for a moment as she examined the grandson that she had always loved. She studied him carefully, fearing that after the argument with Christine, this might be the last time she saw him in a long time. Overcome with emotion, she tried to keep her voice steady.

"Look at you, ey? I always knew you would grow up to be a heart-breaker. You haven't half blossomed. Oh, come here!" Not able to keep her composure, she leapt forward and smothered him in a well overdue hug. When she broke it off, she saw the confused look on his face. "You really don't remember me, do you?"

He shook his head.

"I'm your grandma, lad!"

Connors eyes widened. He threw his mum a look of utter confusion and automatically became worried as he scrutinised her expression. "Mum? Are you okay?"

"Bless. He still cares, after everything." Debbie said. It was quite funny for her to decide to jump on her high horse when she didn't know what on earth was going on between them. "I feel sorry for you, lad. I always knew you would have been better off with me rather than living with a maniac like her. I'm ashamed to call her my daughter."

Their previously tumultuous relationship didn't stop Connor from becoming madly defensive over his mum. "Don't talk about her like that! You don't know anything about us!"

"I knew this was a mistake. I'll see myself out, shall I?" Connor nodded, before Debbie decided she wasn't finished. "I do love you, Connor. I always did and I always will... but don't come crying to me when you realise what kind of a monster she really is."

...

After making sure his grandma was well and truly gone, Connor attempted to get Christine to speak. His mum was silently sobbing, gripping her legs closely to her chest, painfully grieving for a man who's been dead for months. It was overwhelming for her to know that no-one even trusted her to be at her own fathers funeral. She imagined the snotty comments from distant relatives, condemning her as a disgrace for not attending. Tears ran down her cheeks like flowing rivers, and after a while she managed to speak.

"Go back to school." she said plainly.

"Mum.. I'm not leaving you on your own-"

"You'll do as your told." Christine was speaking calmly, staring into space. "Go back to school, Connor."

"Will you be alright?"

Finally, she turned to look at him. She smiled convincingly. "I'll be fine, son. You don't have to worry about me. Now, go. And get your coursework done."

Realising the battle was lost, Connor darted upstairs, grabbed the mounds of paper off his desk and reluctantly made his way back to school.

Christine reverted back to gazing intensely into the nothingness. The only thing that would make her feel better was calling her name; it was off limits, she knew that, but one wouldn't hurt, would it? Just thinking about it made her crave the special burning in the back of her throat, the incomparable perfection of the hazy safety net it placed around your thoughts and worries. She needed it. The off license was only ten minutes away on foot... she could be there and back in time before Connor got back to school. She could destroy her pain with the clear liquid that she depended on so much before he even got home. He would never even know.

That was it.

Decision made.

Christine Mulgrew had officially fallen off the wagon.