"You alright Gucci?" Jackson was stood in the entrance way of Carla's cell, as Carla led on her bed flicking through the fashion magazine she'd already read ten times over since being banged up. Gucci was the nickname Jackson had created for Carla, given her designer lifestyle and glamorous exterior and although it'd taken a while for Carla to adjust to, she found it quite flattering now. It certainly beat hearing 'Connor' beckoned out 24/7, that was becoming more irritating as time went on

"Never been better" Carla rolled her eyes as she lifted them from the magazine and met the gaze of Jackson. "Listen, erm," Carla sat herself up in the bed, chucking the magazine down onto the concrete floor and tucking her hair behind her ears, suddenly feeling quite awkward "Thanks for earlier ya'know, for sticking up for me like that"

"Ahh, it was nothing. Matthews can be a right bitch when she wants to be, she needs putting in her place sometimes" Jackson wandered into Carla's cell, her hands in her jogger pockets as she plonked herself down onto the end of Carla's bed. Carla took in the woman before her. Her bleached blonde frizzy hair, the badly designed skull tattoo on her upper arm, the clothes that she'd clearly squeezed herself into as layers of skin spilled out of the arm holes on her vest top and over the waistline of her joggers, resulting in her showcasing a muffin top. She certainly wasn't like anybody Carla had ever associated herself with before, but she was kind and that's what Carla needed around her right now. Despite the loud mouth and her brash approach, she'd welcomed Carla, idolised her, made her feel less alone. As the days went on, Carla found herself quite warming to the woman. She was like a plumper version of Becky Mcdonald, a local from Carla's home, and Carla couldn't help but have a little soft spot for her. Not that she'd admit to that, of course. "Hey at least it got me some Barlow action" Jackson nudged Carla with her elbow, a wide grin on her face as she clumsily winked

"Officer Barlow?" Carla found herself giggling at Jackson's blatant attraction to the guard, imagining the pair of them together

"Kooooor yeah, I certainly wouldn't kick him out of bed. Would you?!"

"He's not my type" Carla lied, screwing her nose up at the question in order to appear even more convincing. She couldn't deny to herself that he was a very attractive man but she wasn't about to admit it out loud. His olive skin, his dark hair, his neatly trimmed silver beard that framed his face, his deep brown eyes... them eyes... Carla suddenly realised she'd sat silent for a little too long and brought herself back to the subject "Anyway, I highly doubt he's on the look out for a convict as his bit of arm candy"

"You never know Gucci. You know what they say about a bad boy, can't see why it can't work both ways"

"In your dreams Jackson. Now go drool over Barlow somewhere else, I've got this thrilling magazine to flick through for the millionth time. You're interrupting my flow" Jackson laughed at Carla's sarcasm before attempting to push herself up off the bed. Finally tumbling to her feet, she placed her hands on her hips and stood in a model-like pose

"He won't be able to resist THIS.." Jackson moved her hands slowly down her body "..for too much longer. Just you watch" She flicked her hair over her shoulder and jokingly sauntered out with her hands still on her hips, leaving an amused Carla shaking her head as she led back onto the bed in her cell and thought back to her meeting with officer Barlow earlier. How he'd not judged her or made her feel like a prisoner like everyone else so far had done. She could certainly see why he was a hit with her fellow inmates.

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Peter finished drying up the remainder of the utensils he'd used for dinner, his mind still preoccupied over his first day back at work. He chucked the tea towel onto the kitchen side and made his way over to the sofa in his apartment, slouching down onto it as he put his feet up on the coffee table, flicking through the TV channels absentmindedly. As first shifts back to work go in that place, his wasn't too bad today. No fights, no casualties, and a newbie who had made quite the impression. He couldn't stop thinking about his earlier encounter with Carla. Code Red. There was just something about her that intrigued Peter, something that drew him in. Women inmates came and went like buses in that place but Carla seemed different to any of the others he'd dealt with before. His laptop sat on the coffee table infront of him suddenly caught his eye and before he knew it, he found himself picking it up. This was never something he'd done before. Was he really about to do this? Was it weird? Why did he actually want to do it? What was the point? He sat staring at the screen for a few minutes, multiple moral based questions flying about his mind, before his curiosity won and got the better of him. He clicked open the Facebook icon on his desktop and typed her name into the search bar, scrolling down as he found her. Carla Connor. It was definitely her, her profile picture was unmistakable. Her brunette hair, them razor sharp cheekbones, that smile. He took it all in for a moment before his attention was drawn to her cover photo. A picture of her goofing around, posing on one of them cardboard picture boards. After studying Carla, his gaze wandered to the brunette woman alongside her in the picture. Her sister perhaps. They certainly looked like they were related. They had exactly the same features. The brunette hair with the lighter tones at the end, the tanned skin, the beauty. He clicked onto the album of Carla's profile pictures, eager to see more. He smiled as he flicked through them. She looked happy. Loved. Beautiful. He came across another picture of Carla and the brunette, one of them hugging onto each other tightly. Hovering over the tag on the image, her name popped up.. 'Michelle Connor', this seemingly confirmed to him that she was in fact Carla's sister. He continued flicking through more images. Images of Carla dressed up, glasses of alcohol in her hand. Multiple images of her with this woman Michelle. Then a black and white picture of her and a man with their arms around each other popped up. Peter hovered over to see a tag but there wasn't one. So he clicked onto the comments that had been left on the image.

Michelle Connor

So happy for you Babe. Tell Frank he better treat you right or he'll have me to deal with xxx

Carla Connor

Don't worry darling, he's one of the good ones xxx

This was him. Carla's Ex Fiancé. The man she was accused of trying to kill. The reason she was now in prison. Peter closed the comments and studied the picture again. Focusing his attention on the man. He looked smarmy.. untrustworthy. Peter didn't get good vibes from him at all. Then he took in the whole image, the background behind the pair. Surely it couldn't be? He clicked off the album and found himself back on Carla's profile. His eyes lingering on the place of work she had listed at the top of her page. Underworld, Weatherfield. He shook his head in disbelief as he scrolled further down, shocked as to what he found next.

1 mutual friend. Tracy Barlow

Surely not? Peter's hand instinctively rose to his mouth as he tried to process the information. What were the chances? The chances that the inmate he'd found himself so drawn to after one brief encounter, happened to not only work on the street he grew up on, but was also friends with his sister? He scrolled down through her friends list, finding himself more and more in disbelief as multiple names cropped up that he recognised

Kirk Sutherland

Steve Mcdonald

Sally Webster

Hayley Cropper

And that was just a small chunk of the list. Peter persisted to scroll through the rest of Carla's page, searching for even more connections to his childhood home. He studied the backgrounds of her public images. The Rovers. Roy's Rolls. Them cobbles. He even stumbled across some more images of her and Frank, finding himself growing more disturbed by the man as time went on. After more investigating, Peter had come to the conclusion that Carla actually lived on the street. The street he was so familiar with himself, the location where his family all still resided. He'd moved away when he was 18 and was occasionally in telephone contact with his dad but other than that, he'd cut most ties with the place. The last thing he'd expected from stalking Carla's profile, was that he'd end up taking a trip down memory lane

He silently berated himself for going looking now. Now he had all this brand new information which he couldn't talk to anyone about. Not even Ciaran, and certainly not Carla herself. Before he took himself away from her page, he found himself enlarging her profile picture one last time. Feeling a deep sadness inside him as he looked on at the smiling woman. In this image she looked like she was full of life, no idea of the hell she was about to face. He wasn't clued up on the details of her story, the truth to it, but his instincts told him that something was very amiss with this Frank bloke. With one final glance, he clicked off her profile and deleted his search history, just to be precautionary. But Peter's intrigue had the better of him now he'd gone looking and had discovered the information he had done, and he was tempted to do even more digging. He even contemplated googling their names but suddenly he came to his senses and the weirdness of the situation hit him. This wasn't right. He shouldn't be seeking out information on Carla's case. Not only did he feel it disrespectful to her, despite having only met her the once, but he hadn't ever done it with any other inmates. Why was he so drawn to Carla? He sat quietly trying to process the information he'd discovered that evening. Wondering about all the in's and out's of Carla's story. What had brought her to the street.. what she was like.. what had really gone on with her and Frank.. so many questions that were none of Peter's business yet he found himself craving the answers. He'd already been keen to get to know the woman, even more so now though..