Author's note: I'd strongly recommend refreshing yourself on the story because this chapter jumps straight into the action and could be confusing otherwise! :)

Chapter 22 – Trouble On The Horizon

Daniel had been in rehab for three weeks. He wasn't allowed any visitors but someone from the clinic would phone up at the end of each week to update the family on his progress. Apparently he was struggling with the programme, missing Bertie, and had on several occasions threatened to walk out. He was there voluntarily after all, and was free to leave at any time. Carla certainly didn't envy Daniel. She knew from bitter experience how tough those places could be. She just hoped he would stick it out for Bertie's sake.

Although she'd never openly admit it, she was loving having Bertie to herself again. It was a handful with a baby, a puppy that never seemed to run out of energy, and a wedding less than a week away, but by some miracle, she and Peter were making it work. They were both excited for the wedding and starting the next chapter of their lives together.

But as always, trouble was never far away.

It was a cold, crisp Monday morning. Carla was pushing Bertie down the sleepy terraced street when somebody called out behind her. "Excuse me! Excuse me!"

Carla stopped and turned her head.

A woman was running towards her, stiletto heels clapping down the pavement, waving a teddy bear in her hand. She returned it with a kind smile. "I think you dropped this."

Carla was struck by the woman's appearance; She was mid-forties, attractive, well dressed, with long dark hair… It was almost like looking in a mirror.

Realising she was staring, Carla snapped herself out of it and thanked the woman, placing the teddy next to a sleeping Bertie. The stranger then tucked a lock of glossy brown hair behind her ear and peered into the pushchair. Her pretty features lit up. "What a cutie! I'm a sucker for babies, me. How old is he?"

"Just a little over a year."

Straightening, the woman smiled, flashing a set of pearly white teeth. "Your son's beautiful. You're very lucky."

Carla could have corrected her, explained that Bertie wasn't hers and that she was simply looking after him for a while. But it wasn't like she was ever going to see this woman again…So what was the harm in pretending?

"Yes, I'm very lucky indeed."

The stranger became distracted by her wristwatch and it was clear she had somewhere to be. "Ugh, I'm running late for a meeting. Typical me, I can never be on time for anything! Anyway, I better dash! Was nice meeting you!"

She started hurrying away and Carla continued in the opposite direction, a warm, fuzzy feeling inside her at having someone think Bertie was hers.

That afternoon the women ran into each other again. Carla was working when the woman came and sat down at the bar. She pulled a compact mirror from her handbag and touched up her rouge lipstick. She didn't clock Carla behind the bar at first, but when she did, she gave a huge smile of surprise. "Ah, it's you! The lady with the lovely baby!

Carla smiled and extended a hand towards her. "Carla Connor."

The woman shook it gladly, then laughed, "I promise I'm not stalking you! I've just come from a meeting over the road."

Carla's brow shot up. "At the factory?"

"That's right. Why? Do you know it?"

"Know it? I used to own it!"

The woman seemed visibly impressed. "You sound like quite the businesswoman. First the factory and now this place. That's assuming you own this place?"

"That's right." Carla nodded. "Me and my fiancé, Peter, we run it together."

All of a sudden the smile dropped from the woman's face and was replaced by a scowl. Carla didn't know what had changed. They'd been laughing and joking moments ago and now a tension hung between them, a hostility she couldn't quite explain. With their small talk having come to an end, Carla asked, "So can I get you something to drink?"

As if remembering where she was, the woman said, a little flustered, "Oh, um, yes, a glass of pinot noir."

"Coming right up. "

Over in the corner, Leanne and Toyah were having a girlie lunch. Toyah kicked her sister under the table to get her attention. "Ouch! What as that for?"

Trying to be as subtle as possible, Toyah tipped her head towards the bar. "Don't make it obvious, Lee, but check out who's talking to Carla."

Leanne looked over and her eyes nearly burst from their sockets. She spluttered her coffee. "Oh my God! Is that who I think it is?!"

"Keep your voice down," Toyah hissed. "We don't want her to see us."

Back at the bar, Carla tried once more to make conversation. "So do you live around here?"

The woman snorted into her wine glass. "Me? Live around here? You've got to be joking! Terraced houses are most definitely not my thing."

Snob, thought Carla.

The woman's eyes were searching the bar as she lowered her glass. "So where's this fiancé of yours? Don't tell me he's left you holding the fort by yourself?"

"He's at home catching up on a few emails. Which, if I know Peter, probably means he's sat with his feet up watching the footie."

The woman laughed but it sounded hollow and insincere. "How long have you been together?"

"That's a complicated question." Carla laughed nervously, then it occurred to her, "I'm sorry, how rude of me, we've been talking all this time and I don't even know your name."

Panic flickered in the woman's eyes and she jumped up, pretending to throw a look at her wristwatch. "Gosh, is that the time already? I've got places to be!"

She gathered up her coat and scarf and bolted to the exit, leaving her glass of wine practically untouched.

Before heading out the double doors, she paused, taking a moment to address Carla. "It was nice meeting you. Who knows? Perhaps we'll run into each other again sometime."

It sounded like a promise and Carla felt strangely unnerved.

A few minutes after she'd gone, Carla was polishing glasses behind the bar when Toyah approached. "Can I have a word?"

"Sure." Carla smiled. "Is everything alright with your food?"

"Oh, the food's lovely, it's not that, it's um…" Toyah couldn't keep her hands still as they pulled at the sleeves of her chunky knit cardigan. "It's actually about the woman who was just here."

"What about her?"

Toyah gave Carla a serious look. "You know who that was, right?"

"Should I?"

"Carla…" She swallowed. "That was Chloe."

"Chloe who? Kardashian?"

"No, Tipton."

Toyah said it like it was some grand revelation but the impact was lost on Carla. She shrugged her shoulders in obvious confusion. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

"No, but it means something to Peter." Toyah looked over at her sister who was watching them from the booth, then she leaned over the bar and lowered her voice. "I'm not sure how else to say this… but a few years ago Chloe accused Peter of assaulting her."

The glass in Carla's hand slipped from her nerveless fingers and smashed on the floor. "What?"

"The accusation was a pack of lies," Toyah added quickly. "Chloe fancied Peter like crazy, to the point of obsession. The woman's nuts, Carla, and that's not a term I use lightly. Whatever she's doing back here, I'll bet you any money Peter's got something to do with it." Toyah faltered, already feeling like she'd said too much. "I just thought I should warn you."

Carla nodded slowly. "Well, thanks."

Now it all made sense; why Chloe had been so reluctant to give her name, why her entire demeanour changed at the mention of Peter, why she'd been asking all those questions about their relationship…

Why had Peter never mentioned Chloe before? Having a crazy stalker accuse you of assault wasn't the sort of thing you forgot. What was the full story between Peter and Chloe? And what was Chloe doing back here? Was Toyah right, was she after Peter?

Carla didn't know what to think. Her head was spinning from it all. But one thing was certain; she and Peter would be having words later.

Claudia had whisked Ken away on a romantic trip to Venice and Tracy had been left the keys to No.1 to walk and feed Eccles. Her father had given her strict instructions that under no circumstances was Rob allowed to set foot inside the house. But since when did Tracy Barlow follow orders?

She'd moved Rob in as soon as she waved her father off in the back of a taxi, and for the past week they'd been living in total uninterrupted bliss.

Ken was due back in a few days so they were making the most of their time together.

Tracy had bunked off work so she and Rob could spend the day in bed. They were lost in the throes of passion when they were rudely interrupted by a knock at the door. "Ignore it," Rob mumbled against her neck. "It's probably just the Jehovah's witnesses. They'll go away in a minute."

But much to their annoyance, the knocking persisted until they could no longer ignore it. Rob moaned as Tracy slipped out of the covers. She threw on her father's kimono before heading down the stairs. "Alright, keep your hair on!"

She opened the door, ready to give whoever it was a piece of her mind, but was met by a woman with dark tousled hair and a pleasant smile. Tracy looked her up and down, taking in her designer clothes and gold wristwatch. Her handbag alone probably cost more than the entirety of Tracy's wardrobe. "Well, you don't like you're here selling bibles."

"I'm looking for Peter Barlow." The woman's voice was soft and well-spoken, far too posh to have been from around here. "I was told he lives here."

Tracy cocked her head to the side, eyeing her with suspicion. "Who wants to know?"

"An old friend."

"An old friend? An old flame more like." Rob appeared next to Tracy in the doorway, dressed in only his boxers. The woman's eyes were immediately drawn to his golden six-pack, something which didn't go unnoticed by Tracy who stiffened with jealousy.

Rob seemed to relish the attention he was getting and flashed her a dimpled smile. "If you don't mind me asking, how do you know Peter?"

"We knew each other from a support group. We lost touch a few years back. I was told he lived here but it appears I was mistaken. I'm sorry to have bothered you."

"Well, ta-ra then!" said Tracy, eager to shut the door.

Rob stretched out a muscular arm and pointed into the distance. "If it's Peter you're looking for, he lives at the fancy looking apartment block on the end of Victoria street. Apartment 17."

The woman flashed him a seductive smile. "Thank you."

"Any time," Rob said, winking at her, before receiving a sharp elbow to the ribs from Tracy.

Having got the information she needed, Chloe Tipton took off in the direction of Victoria Street, smiling smugly to herself as Tracy called after her, "Oi! Who the hell even are you anyway?"

Peter had spent the last few hours staring down at a blank piece of paper. The wedding was less than a week away and he still hadn't written his vows. Last time he'd stolen them off the internet but this time he wanted to write his own, something personal and from the heart. There was plenty he wanted to say, his reasons for loving Carla were endless. The problem was putting it into words…

His pen hovered over the blank page, willing himself to write something, anything, but his mind remained as blank as the page before him.

Perhaps he was overthinking it? He needed to try to relax. But there was such an enormous pressure to get it right.

The knock at the door came as a welcome distraction. He ordered Sadie into her basket as he went to answer it. His smile fell instantly at the woman stood before him, grinning at him like an old friend. "Hello, stranger. Long time, no see."

For those first few seconds, Peter was floored. He forgot how to speak as his jaw hung slack. "What… what are you doing here? How do you know where I live?"

"A neighbour kindly pointed me in the right direction." Chloe slipped past him into the lavish apartment. She whistled appreciatively as she took in her surroundings. "Wow, it's a nice place you've got here. The bistro over the road is nice too, a real step from the Rovers, that's for sure. Your new fancy woman's an improvement on the last an' all…" She smiled as the colour drained from Peter's cheeks. "That's right. Carla. I've met her." She laughed. "It's upgrades all round with you, isn't it?"

She wandered over to the sideboard and picked up a framed photograph of the couple from their time in the Caribbean. Peter was standing ankle-deep in clear blue water, smiling over his shoulder at Carla who was on his back, her head thrown back in laughter, her long, dark hair blowing in the tropical breeze. They looked so happy together, so perfect. Jealously bubbled up inside Chloe.

"She sure is pretty," she remarked, admiring the photograph. "She reminds me a lot of myself actually. Headstrong, self-assured, and dare I say it, a little bit sexy…" She was grinning at Peter now. "Guess I was your type after all."

Peter hadn't moved from the doorway. Arms folded, he glared at her. "What do you want, Chloe?"

"What do I want?" She started to move towards him in a slow, sultry fashion. "I've missed you. Don't tell me you've not missed me? Not even a teeny, tiny little bit?"

"I think you should leave. We wouldn't want another misunderstanding now, would we?"

She caught onto the meaning of his words and hung her head. "Ah, you're still bitter about the assault accusation? Look, I hold my hands up. I might've taken things a bit far last time, but what can I say? My pride was hurt. I dropped the charges in the end though, didn't I?"

"Only because Toyah held a gun to your head! You would've gladly destroyed my life. I'm not about to let you do it again. Now I've asked you to leave."

She took no notice of his warning and once again her eyes began searching over the apartment. "Where is he then?"

"Where's who?"

"That adorable son of yours."

Peter frowned at her. "Simon?"

"No, not Simon," she laughed. "The baby."

Peter's face scrunched up. Now he was totally lost. "Baby? I don't have a –"

"Don't lie to me! I saw Carla pushing him down the street this morning so don't you dare try denying it!"

Her temper had jumped from calm to explosive in a matter of seconds, a reminder of just how unstable she was.

"That's not my…" Peter went to correct her but stopped himself. He stared at her, shaking his head. "Wait a minute, why am I even explaining myself to you? What I do with my life has got nothing to do with you! Nothing at all."

"You're right." She calmed herself and was soon smiling again. "How about I stick the kettle on and we continue this catch up over a cup of tea?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Fine, coffee then."

"Not going to happen."

Chloe had gotten dangerously close and her eyes began gravitating towards his lips. Whispering his name, she leaned in, but Peter coldly rejected her advances, turning his face away. "I mean it, Chloe. If you're not out of this door in the next five seconds, I'm calling the police."

However, this only seemed to excite her. "I think someone's bluffing."

"Try me."

He took out his mobile and started counting down from five. Chloe waited until the very last second before backing into the corridor. "Alright, alright, I'm going, I'm going. Let the games begin!"

"No games. I'm warning you, Chloe, stay away from me and Carla. Leave us alone. I don't want to see you again. Do I make myself clear?"

"God, you're sexy when you're angry, do you know that?"

"Stay away."

"Or what? What are you going to do..." She left a deliberate pause, before whispering, "Hit me?"

Her words instilled fear in Peter. He shut the door in her face and slumped against it, releasing a shaky breath. Even now the woman terrified him. And her being back in his life meant only one thing… Trouble.

That evening, after putting Bertie to bed, Carla sat Peter down and made him tell her everything. Once he'd finished talking, she nodded slowly, feeling like she'd become embroiled in the plot of Fatal Attraction. "So let me get this straight, you started out as her driver then the two of you came up with an arrangement where she'd pay you large sums of money to flirt with her. Is this correct so far?"

He pulled a face. "Don't say it like that."

"How else do you want me to say it?"

"Me and Toyah were going through IVF at the time," he explained. "The cost of that doesn't come cheap. I couldn't afford to turn Chloe's money down. But nothing ever happened between us."

"I wouldn't say that, Peter. You kissed her."

"No, she kissed me," he insisted. "It was one kiss. One meaningless kiss. It was a mistake and I told her that at the time, but she wouldn't take no for an answer! Then she started showing up around here, trying to cause trouble. She tried to buy the Rover's off me and told my dad we were having some kind of sordid affair! One day I finally had enough and I told her I wanted nothing more to do with her."

"How did she take that?"

"About as well as you can imagine. She went ballistic. Started smashing the place up. Then she went for me… I pushed her away and she slipped and cut her face, quite badly as it happens. It was an accident, I swear. But the next thing I know, she's telling the world and his wife I attacked her!"

There was something about Peter's version of events that didn't quite add up for Carla. "Tell it to me again, how exactly did she end up falling over?"

"It's like I said, you know… she came flying towards me and I defended myself. I pushed her, not aggressively, just with enough force to get her off me. But she lost her footing and fell backwards…." He trailed off and fear clouded his expression as he looked at her. "You do believe me, don't you? You don't seriously think I'd hit a woman?"

Carla quickly reached for his hand. "Of course not."

Peter was capable of a lot of things, but not that, never.

Relieved that she was on his side, he continued, "What made it worse was that around the time this all kicked off, Daniel pushed my dad down the stairs. Chloe's accusation put me well and truly in the frame for dad's fall. I had two hefty assault charges hanging over my head. I begged her to come clean and tell the coppers she was making the whole thing up, but she wouldn't. She was hellbent on destroying me, all because I turned her down. The woman's a nutter, a total fantasist."

His account tallied with what Toyah had said. Carla had no doubt in her mind that he was telling the truth.

"So what does she want now?" she asked.

"Isn't it obvious? Me."

Carla swallowed, a little uneasy. "What did she say when she came round here?"

"She made her intentions pretty clear if that's what you're asking. Chloe's not exactly shy about that sort of thing."

"And what did you tell her?"

"I told her to do one. Said I never want to see her around here again."

"Do you think she'll listen?"

"The thing about Chloe is she likes to play games." With a sense of foreboding, Peter added darkly, "And I get the feeling this is only the beginning."

Having exhausted themselves with a day of lovemaking, Rob and Tracy settled on the sofa for a quiet night in front of the telly. Eccles was curled up in her basket, snoring away. The ten o'clock news was on in the background but Rob wasn't paying it much attention. His mind was elsewhere, thinking about the woman who had shown up on their doorstep earlier that day asking about Peter.

"Who was she?" he wondered out loud.

"Who's who?" Tracy asked.

"That woman from earlier, the one asking after your brother."

"Oh, her." Tracy said it with obvious disdain. "Who flamin' cares?"

"I do if Peter's up to his old tricks again."

Tracy scoffed. "As if!"

"I'm serious, Trace."

"So am I," she said. "Peter's not like that anymore. He's changed."

Now it was Rob's turn to laugh. "You can't seriously believe that? I've known addicts like your brother all my life. Hell, I grew up with one. They never change. You know why? Because they're incapable of it." He bit his lip in anger. "I swear, if he's messing Carla about after everything—"

Tracy sat up with a jolt, whacking his knee for him to be quiet. She snatched the remote from his lap and turned up the volume of the news report that was playing; "And now for tonight's breaking news. A manhunt is underway in Greater Manchester as two convicts escaped from her Royal Majesty's prison in the early hours of this morning. The police have named the prisoners as Richard Silverman and Gary Windass. Both men are believed to be highly dangerous and the police are urging members of the public not to approach them. Anyone with any information should get in touch with the authorities immediately. There's a number down below. We'll have more on this story later but now let's move onto our next story this evening—"

Tracy switched it off and for what felt like an eternity they sat staring at the blank screen.

"I don't believe it," she said finally, her voice barely a whisper. "He's escaped. Gary's escaped. How's that even possible?"

Then a terrifying thought entered her head. She turned to Rob, clasping a hand over her mouth. "What if he comes after me? I'm part of the reason he got put away, you know. What if he comes back here and - I don't know! - tries to exact his revenge or summat?!"

She waited for Rob to say something but he was unusually quiet.

"Well? Aren't you going to reassure me? Tell me I'm being daft? That I've been watching too many Tarrantino films?"

That's when Tracy noticed he was shaking. And it wasn't just his hands, but his entire body. Her eyes narrowed at the sweat building on his forehead. "Babe, what's wrong?"

She reached out to touch his forehead. "You're burning up..."

"I'm fine." He batted her hand away and jumped up off the sofa, feeling on the verge of collapse as the four walls of the living room spun around him. "I ugh… I need some air."

In the back yard, Rob collapsed against the brick wall of the house. His heart was racing as he tried to gather his thoughts and get his breathing under control. His hands shook as he scrolled through the contact list on his phone. Eventually he found the name he was looking for.

As it started to ring, he held his breath, praying for an answer. Just when he feared it would go to voicemail, a gruff voice he hadn't heard in years answered. "Hello?"

Rob felt an outpouring of relief and his grip tightened around the phone. "Stu, it's me… don't hang up. I know we promised not to contact each other unless it was an emergency, but mate, this is an emergency. I've just seen the news. Please, Stu, I need to see you. Can we meet?"

Later that night, when Tracy was asleep, Rob snuck out and waited on the corner of Huck street, the place they'd agreed to meet. He stood under a streetlight and shoved his hands deep into his pockets for warmth against the biting cold. It wasn't long before a set of headlights came around the corner, blinding him.

A silver car pulled up in front of him and rolled down its window. "Get in," said the driver.

Rob hopped inside and, removing his hood, came face to face with his former cellmate, Stuart Rodgers, a bald-headed ex-con in his sixties whose muscular arms were covered in faded tattoos.

"Thanks for coming, Stu."

The older man kept a watchful eye on the rear-view mirror. "No surprises as to why you asked me here. You must be shitting bricks."

Rob couldn't bear the suspense any longer. "Look, I need to know, is Ritchie coming after me? Am I in danger?"

"Oh, he'll be coming for you all right. Might take him a while, he'll have to lay low until this manhunt blows over, but once things die down, he'll be after you, ain't no two ways about it."

It wasn't what Rob had wanted to hear and his head dropped against the dashboard. "I was hoping he might've—"

His friend's mocking laughter cut him off. "Might've what? Forgotten what you did? Let bygones be bygones? You know as well as I do that Ritchie Silverman never forgets. And forgiveness ain't his strong suit either. You've got an X marked on your door, Donovan… and one of these days Ritchie's going to come knocking."

Rob could feel the panic rising up inside of him. "So what do I do?"

"You want my advice? Pack a bag and get the hell out of town. Go somewhere remote. Get off the grid for a while. A dog without a scent soon gives up the hunt."

"But it's not that simple for me, Stu. My girlfriend lives here. She's got a daughter, a family, a business… I can't expect her to up sticks and leave."

"Then go without her."

"What? No way!"

Stuart turned to face him fully. "I don't think you're grasping the seriousness of the situation here, Rob. When Ritchie finds you, and mark my words, he'll find you… he's going to put a bullet in your brain. He'll put one in your girlfriend's too. Is that what you want?"

The thought of anything happening to Tracy made Rob's insides twist painfully. He raked a hand through his hair. "God, this is all such a mess…"

"I warned you, didn't I?"

Rob rolled his eyes. "Oh here it comes, the 'I told you so' speech."

"Well, it's true! I said don't cross a guy like Ritchie Silverman because you'll live to regret it, but you thought you knew best…and now look where we are."

Stuart threw another cautious glance at the rear-view mirror. He needed to be sure nobody had followed them.

"Listen, Rob, I came here tonight as a favour to you, because you had my back when we were inside… but this is where it ends. If they find out I've been talking to you, they'll stick me in the canal.

"I understand."

Rob knew the score. This was his mess, and his alone.

"Thanks for coming, Stu. I appreciate it."

Pulling up his hood, Rob stepped out of the car into the cold night.

Stuart called to him from his rolled-down window. "It was good seeing you again, my friend. But please, for your sake, take my advice and get the hell out of town. I don't want to read about your grisly murder in the morning paper, got it? Look after yourself, Donovan."

"You too, Stu."

The car sped off and Rob watched it vanish into the night with an uneasy feeling. He felt it in his bones. There was trouble on the horizon.

Author's note: Yes, I know, it's been a while, but I'm back and will try my best to complete the story if anyone's still interested - let me know! Oh, and for those that weren't watching at the time, 'Crazy Chloe' was a character introduced in 2017 who basically stalked and accused Peter of something he didn't do - a great character by all means who I'd love to see back on the show! I wonder what trouble she's going to cause for Peter this time...

As always, thanks for reading.