I'm expecting to get the final part of E9 up this week, which means we're bang on schedule again.

Monday's episode was pretty funny, I thought, even if I did want to shake Christine for her foot-in-mouth-itis with George. Again. I think she's a bit confused, actually. Connor's away, she's not Head, she's too old to join with the young staff and too young to settle down to Audrey's movie nights (I laughed at the stroppy teenager bit, that was genius)… she needs something to focus on, and fast!

Paisley: *evil grin* Somehow I don't think you're going to find this bit too reassuring, but … trust me. And I lol'd at your Sue/Hector comment. Sue's definitely coming back, but I'm still dithering over Hector.

Lori: Thank you, that was a fantastic review! Re: AN, I lived with a dear friend who has/had it and was her main support by phone for several years after that. It was … intense. A lot of Dynasty's emotional response is first hand; I wish someone had been able to tell me some of what Christine tells Dynasty here. There'll probably be more of that coming, if it's not too triggery (I found writing it out helped more than anything). It's an awful thing to endure, either for yourself or to watch in someone you love—and it sounds as if you know that too. :(

Niamhemiliee: I knew you'd be spitting and I don't think you'll find this part very soothing either! If it helps, re-read the fic. There's some clues. Honestly.

Jessiekat89: Read on!

Guest: Only Sue?! I think Sue got off pretty lightly last time!

Miss Spark's room, 2.00pm

Lenny glanced at the door while Mr Reid explained protons, neutrons and electrons, Miss Spark simpering nearby. They were nearly fifteen minutes into the lesson and still there was no sign of his sister. Why had Mrs Mulgrew kept her and the others so long? Lisa had swore blind that she'd nothing to do with Kacey's fall down the hill the week before, but Lenny had his suspicions and so, judging by her expression earlier, did their form teacher. He hoped his twin wasn't going to try pulling the wool over her eyes; Mrs Mulgrew was no fool and anyway, she'd been good to them. They owed her something. If it wasn't for her they'd have found themselves thrown into care yet again.

'At last!' Miss Spark said sarcastically when the door opened and Lisa entered, followed closely by Shaznay. 'Where's Darren?'

'Mrs Mulgrew sent 'im to Mr Lowsley,' Lisa spat as she came to take her seat next to Lenny. 'Stupid old cow's got a right bee in 'er bonnet about somethin'.'

'Now, Lisa, you can't say things like that!' Miss Spark scolded, and Lenny tightened his grip on his pen. Anyone could see she was secretly pleased to hear Lisa badmouthing Mrs Mulgrew. 'For goodness' sake, get yourself sorted out and try to catch up. Mr Reid's kindly explaining the periodic table and you've nearly missed it all.'

Lisa rolled her eyes but obeyed, and the lesson resumed. When they'd been set an exercise Lenny nudged his twin.

'What did she say? Mrs Mulgrew?'

'House-gated, whatever that means. And she's writin' to Grandad.'

'So you did have somethin' to do with it!' Lenny accused. 'Nice one, Lise! I asked you and you said you never!'

His twin reared back.

'What, you're gonna side with her? You're not even gonna think that maybe she got the wrong end of the stick?'

'You need to wise up,' he hissed. 'Get a grip. What's gonna happen to us if you get thrown out o' here, eh? Mrs M's on our side, remember!'

'Oooh, sorry, I forgot. You and your darlin' Christine!' Lisa exchanged a look with Shaznay and the pair sniggered.

Lenny could feel the heat rising in his cheeks.

'Don't be daft, it's not like that, yous are sick in the head. She's old enough to be our mum!'

Which was precisely the point. Lenny missed his own mother desperately, and since coming to Waterloo Road Mrs Budgen and Mrs Mulgrew had between them helped fill that void in their very different ways. Mrs Budgen was always ready with a big smile and a warm hug and Mrs Mulgrew … She'd helped him discover that he had both a voice and the right to use it, even (especially) when he disagreed with his domineering sister.

Still embarrassed, he deliberately turned away from the girls and tried to understand the questions they'd been set. It was wasted effort and he glanced up, hoping to catch Mr Reid's eye. It was futile as the new teacher was engrossed in whatever Miss Spark was saying. Lenny sighed and began to return to his textbook—only to catch sight of his form teacher bent over the balustrade, looking as if she was clinging to it for dear life.

'Lise—' He elbowed his twin and pointed to the window through which Mrs Mulgrew could be glimpsed. 'Shouldn't we do somethin'?'

'She'll be fine, it's nothin' to do with you.' She glanced at the clock and sighed. 'And anyway, the bell's gonna go any minute and you'll see your beloved Mrs Mulgrew then. You can bet she'll be there, ready to make our lives even more of a misery!'

'That's not fair, she looks sick!' Lenny jumped to his feet and Miss Spark glared. 'Sir, miss, you've gotta do somethin'! It's Mrs Mulgrew—'

'I tried tellin' him, miss,' Lisa said virtuously and Lenny threw her a dirty look.

Miss Spark crossed to the door and opened it. She turned back, eyebrows raised. 'There's no-one there.'

'What? But she was just there!' Lenny shot out past his science teacher—only to find that she was correct. The hall was empty. 'I'm not lyin', she was standin' right here, she looked awful!'

'I'm sure Mrs Mulgrew will be delighted to know how concerned you are,' Miss Spark told him impatiently. 'Come on, the bell's going to go and you need to take down your homework.'

Seeing no help for it he obeyed, but when the bell finally did go he was first to shoot out of the science lab and around the corner in his form teacher's room, his heart sinking when he found it empty.

He dumped his bag at his usual place and turned on his sister when she entered. 'See!'

'For god's sake, Lenny! She's probably just… I dunno, gone to use the photocopier or somethin'!'

'She never does that,' Lenny pointed out. He leaned forward. 'What if somethin' happened? You know … with the baby?'

'Honestly, you're such a drama queen.' Lisa dropped into her own seat and folded her arms. 'Just sit down, will ye, and calm down. You're makin' a right pillock o' yerself.'

Realising that he was wasting his time, Lenny subsided, his feet tapping the floor in an agitated rhythm. She might have a point, he admitted to himself. Maybe Mrs Mulgrew had just gone to the office … Sonya would know. He'd give her another few minutes and then he'd investigate no matter what Lisa said.

Accordingly, when nearly quarter of an hour had passed and there was still no sight of their English teacher, Lenny got to his feet. The class quietened, watching him with interest.

He lifted his chin. 'I'm goin' to find out what's happenin'.'

'Swot,' Lisa hissed under her breath as he walked past. 'Teacher's pet, that's what you are.'

He swallowed and kept on going. This was the right thing to do, he knew it. Once the door had closed behind him he threw appearances to the wind and ran down the stairs towards the office door where he collided with Sonya, who grabbed at him when he tried to pant an explanation.

'Calm down you, you'll be givin' yourself an asthma attack at this rate.' She ushered him in. 'Sit down. I'll get you a drink—'

He shook her off. 'I'm fine, honest, it's just… Have you seen Mrs Mulgrew?'

'Mrs Mulgrew?' The secretary paused. 'No. Isn't she teaching now?'

'Yeah.' He had to stop to catch his breath. 'She's supposed to be teachin' us but she never showed up—'

'That's not like Christine,' he heard Sonya mutter and his heart missed a beat. The secretary gave him a wide smile and placed a drink in front of him. 'Never you worry, I'll sort it out. Drink up and get lost, someone'll be with you in no time.'

'But—'

'Go!' She pointed to the door and tried to glare, not very successfully. Lenny's attempt at further argument was cut off when the phone rang and Sonya went to answer it, quickly becoming absorbed in the needs of her caller.

Lenny sighed and left the office. He wasn't convinced Sonya had taken him seriously and neither had Miss Spark … but Mr Clarkson might.

Mr Clarkson's room, 2.40pm

Tom shifted in his seat, aware that the slow passing of time was frustrating him nearly as much as his pupils, but at least he had the advantage—or otherwise—of counting off every stroke of the clock which hung at the opposite end of the classroom. Nearly quarter to three, another half hour to go and then he and Christine could start to sort this mess out. He couldn't wait; his pulse lurched with every sound, his mouth was dry and his hands clammy. He could hardly think straight, let alone come up with a convincing lecture on the Duchess of Malfi. Which left only one thing for it…

'Here's your homework for next week,' he announced, turning to write Discuss the different levels of disguise found in the Duchess of Malfi on the board. The class groaned loudly. 'Stop complaining, you lot. This is the kind of thing you could face in the exam, at least I'm not expecting you to exercise your brains over it by yourselves. Take ten minutes to draft a plan and exchange it with your neighbour, see if they have different ideas.' He glanced at the clock again and sighed; the hand was creeping with agonising slowness towards ten-to. 'Time starts—now!'

Year 12 grumbled but settled to the job quickly enough, and Tom was able to sink back into a happy daze. If Christine was eating again perhaps she'd like to go out for dinner. Connor and Imogen would be delighted to have the house to themselves, he was sure. If—if!—he and Christine could resolve some of their issues perhaps the time would be right to broach the subject of the little velvet box…

A timid knock roused him from his reverie and he beckoned Lenny Brown in. 'Lenny. What can I do for you?' A vague recollection of the time-table tickled his memory. 'Shouldn't you be with Mrs Mulgrew?'

'That's why I'm here, sir.' Out of the corner of his eye Tom saw Connor lift his head. 'She's s'posed to be teachin' us now, but she's not come!'

'At all?'

Lenny shook his head. 'I tried the office too, an' Sonya says she hasn't seen her, and she's not in the staff-room… I dunno where else to look!'

'Did you get Sonya to try the toilets?' Dynasty called, and Tom threw her a grateful look. He'd been too stunned by Lenny's announcement to even think of it.

The Year 10 boy shook his head. 'She didn't really listen to us, the phone rang—'

Dynasty rose. 'I'll take 'im to the ladies' now, will I?'

Tom managed to swallow the lump of solid fear that had settled in his throat. 'Thanks, Dyn.' He pulled his features into something he hoped resembled a reassuring smile. 'Let us know, will you?'

'She's not answerin' her phone,' Connor said and Tom's stomach lurched, but he held up his hands.

'Let's not panic yet, OK? Dynasty, go with Lenny. I'll go to Chris—Mrs Mulgrew's room now. The rest of you, just stick with this until the bell goes, Miss Boston's next door—'

'I saw her in science,' Lenny blurted into the middle of Tom's efforts at calm. 'Mrs M, I mean. She was leaning over the rail, she looked dead sick, sir, but Miss Spark wouldn't believe us when I told her.'

All the strength went out of Tom's legs at that and he collapsed limply into his seat. Dynasty put a hand on Lenny's shoulder and propelled him from the room, calling back that she'd see him in Christine's room.

After staring at the wood grain of his desk for an endless while Tom stumbled to his feet. 'I, I have to go, Year 10'll be tearing the place up—'

'You're not gonna go looking for my mum?' Connor sounded aghast. 'Anything could've have happened, she's still not answerin' her phone—'

'I'm Deputy Head, I have to go to Year 10,' Tom repeated numbly. 'Your mum would understand that better than anyone.'

''Course, stupid me, work comes first, eh?' Connor spat. 'Thought you were supposed to be different from Byrne. You can do what you like, mate, but I'm goin'. I'm not leavin' Dynasty to look for my mum by herself!' He lifted his bag and stormed out, followed by Imogen who flashed Tom a glance that could almost be described as apologetic.

'If you're going, you'd better go, sir,' Kevin pointed out. 'Like you said, Year 10'll be runnin' wild. We'll be good here, won't we?'

A gentle murmur of agreement from the class at large gave Tom the strength to rise, clumsily pulling his books into his briefcase. The lump in his throat seemed to become larger and harder as he caught a glimpse of the soft sheen of the velvet covered box, and he had to blink to clear his eyes from the dampness gathering there. He couldn't show the kids how upset and scared he was, even if they were practically adults…

'Sir?' Louisa's voice made him pause at the door. 'Look after yourselves. We'll be thinking about you.'

Tom gulped. 'Thanks.'

Later he could never remember how he got to Christine's room. All he knew was his profound disappointment when he opened the door and found Year 10 behaving like hooligans as predicted; until then he'd hoped against hope that Christine would greet him with a raised eyebrow and send him on his way with a wry comment—but no such luck.

He gained some refuge from his emotions by terrorising 10M into silence. At ten past three, Dynasty returned with a downcast Lenny.

Tom bounded to his feet. 'Did you—'

Dynasty gave a single shake of her head. 'She's not there.'

God, oh god…. Once again he collapsed into his seat, dropping his head into his hands and raking his fingers through his hair. What had happened? He pulled out his own phone and pushed Christine's name.

It rang out.

He sat and watched the second hand tick its way through five rounds.

The bell rang for the end of school and it was Dynasty who chivvied Year 10 out; Tom could only sit and stare blankly at the screen of his mobile.

When he was alone he tried again. And again. And again.

On the fifth try someone answered.

'Christine?'

It was not Christine. It was Connor.

Mulgrew Household, 3.20pm

'Mum? Mum!'

'At least the car's here,' Imogen commented and Connor threw a distracted glance in her direction. 'Whatever it is, it can't be that bad if she was able to drive home.'

'Yeah.' He couldn't disagree with that, but it did nothing to ease the strangling fear welling within him. He swallowed hard and pointed to the kitchen. 'Let's try—'

Imogen brushed past him, her pressure on the door pouring a pool of light into the dark hall. Connor blinked.

'She's not here,' his wife called. 'There's no sign she was ever here, everything's just as we left it this morning—no, wait. There's a pile of dishes in the sink.'

'Dishes?!' Connor stuck his head around the door. 'What di—Oh.' All at once he couldn't speak; the little pile of crockery indicated that his mum had tried to make herself a proper breakfast for once. He came forward to inspect a bowl, grimacing at the congealed bits of egg around its rim. 'She did listen.'

'Huh?'

'This morning. I had a go at her, told her she had to realise we love her and we're only worried about her—' He couldn't continue, twisting away from the sink and its contents, away from Imogen's concerned gaze, and headed for the stairs. When he reached the top he almost fell headlong over his mum's big black handbag and he grabbed it, holding it to his chest.

'Mum!'

No response.

Still clutching the bag, he stumbled towards his mother's bedroom, kicking the door open. It bounced back against the wall, denting the plaster, but Connor wasn't thinking of that. His attention was focused on his mum, lying in a crumpled heap on the carpet, apparently unconscious. The handbag slipped from nerveless fingers as he flung himself beside her, gently turning her over so that she lay on her back. The smell that wafted towards him as he did so made him recoil; it was sharp and sour and gut-churningly familiar.

'You found her,' Imogen said unnecessarily from the door.

His throat was so stretched and taut inside it hurt to say, 'She's been drinkin'.'

'What?' His wife came closer. 'Did she pass out? Do we need an ambulance?'

Annoyance boiled as Connor realised she hadn't heard. He turned his head, just enough to allow her to lipread. 'I said, she's been drinking. She doesn't need an ambulance, she's brought this on herself—as usual.'

Imogen was edging around his mother, choosing her steps with catlike consideration as she studied the scene before her. All at once she swooped.

'She can't have drunk much, Con, there's a glass here. It's a bit smashed, but there's vodka around it. Quite a lot of it, too, judging from the carpet.' She lifted her head to look at him. 'Did you find a bottle?'

'A bottle—' His heart thumping painfully, Connor tried to relax as he forced his eyes to seek the out the well-known and much-loathed shape. Imogen was moving his mum into the recovery position, he couldn't bear to go near her, but if his wife thought it was important to find the bottle… Finally, he spotted it, lurking underneath one of the bedside cabinets. He made a long arm and grabbed it, his brows coming together when he saw that not only was it more than half full, but the cap was tightly screwed. 'What—?'

'Urrghh…' Imogen wiped a hand on the carpet. 'Oh, my god. Connor, you've got to call Tom, you've got to call the doctor now—'

Right on cue a phone rang, but Connor ignored it.

'Call the doctor for a hangover?' he snapped, his fury returning full force. 'Waste of time, tried that before.'

His wife was shaking his head. 'I think we've got this all wrong. I think she was drinkin', but she can't have had much. Not enough for— There's all that vodka and…' Her expression twisted. 'I've just stuck my hand in a pile of sick and she hasn't moved once.' She gestured towards the bottle Connor had dropped. 'That's too full for a drinking binge … There's somethin' else going on.' Her eyes went wide. 'Connor … what if she's miscarrying?'

'No.' He shook his head. 'No, she said she was gonna be careful—'

'It would explain everything! She'd be so upset, she really wanted this kid. If she thought she was losing it that'd be enough to send her back to the bottle, you know it would—'

'It can't happen,' Connor insisted through stiff lips. 'It can't. It won't.' He crawled back to his mother's side. She was white to the lips and he stroked a finger down her cheek. 'Wake up, Mum. You've got to wake up. I'm so sorry, please wake up and tell us you're OK, you and Squirt—'

Once again came the annoying jangle of a mobile's ringtone, and Connor's brain creaked into gear as he recognised it. That was his mum's phone; perhaps it was Tom. Imogen was right, if this wasn't just the effects of too much alcohol they'd delayed long enough… His hands shook as he fumbled through his mother's bag, coming dangerously close to tears of relief when his fingers closed about the smooth plastic curves of her iPhone.

He lifted it.

'Christine?' Tom sounded frantic, but never had his voice been so welcome to Connor's ears.

'Tom, it's me.' He had to stop to pull himself together, to speak clearly instead of shrieking. 'We've found her, we're at home … but you—you have to come now, mate. And… and … bring a doctor.'

TBC

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