Carla kept her steely gaze fixed on Simon as he trudged the short distance from the flat to her parked car, his head hung forward in a mixture of shame and discontent at being caught, while his feet scuffed the ground, his final protest over his current situation.

"Get in," Carla ordered, pushing open the car door for him.

Simon obeyed, if grudgingly, and sat, his arms folded, resolute in his conviction of unfair treatment.

"So, young man," Carla began. "Where exactly did you think you were going?"

"Don't matter now," Simon shrugged, nothing mattered now that he had been foiled.

"Humour me. What was your plan?"

"Catch the bus what goes down that street," Simon explained, waving his arm in the general direction of the bus route. "Into town and then catch the train back home."

"This is your home now," Carla said. "With your dad and me."

"Not you."

"Forget about me, Si, and whether or not you want me around–"

"I don't."

"Yes, I know. But regardless, your home is with your dad."

"Not if I live with my mum," Simon countered.

"That's not an option, Si."

"You don't get tell me what to do!" Simon snapped. "You're nothing to me!"

"You're right, Si, that's up to your dad to decide, not me. I am, like you say, nothing to you. Speaking of your dad, he's going to figure out you're missing sooner or later, so how about we get you back inside?"

"You gonna dob me in?" Simon asked, suddenly fearful of his father's reaction.

"Where I come from, we don't grass up our mates."

"But we're not mates."

"Ouch!" Carla grimaced. "That's fair, I understand why you feel that way. But I'd really like it if we could be."

Simon didn't answer, instead he remained in his seat, silently glaring at the dashboard in front of him, studying it as if it was suddenly the most interesting thing he'd ever laid eyes on. Anything to ignore Carla's pleas.

"You know, Si, I'm not trying to replace your mum, if that's what you think I'm doing. I'd never do that. I just want us to be friends. Or at least call a cease fire to hostilities. What do ya say? Hmm?"

"Dunno," Simon shrugged. "I guess."

"Okay, then, let's get you back inside. And we won't mention any of this to your dad."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Promise?"

"I said so, didn't I? You can count on me, Si."

With a shaky truce in place, the co-conspirators exited the car together and approached the front door, whispering to each other the details of their plan.

"Peter?" Carla called out as she entered the flat, letting Simon in behind her before she closed the door.

"In the kitchen!" came Peter's reply. "Perfect timing, love, dinner's almost ready."

"Mmm…" Carla murmured as she hurried into the kitchen. "I am hungry."

But Carla surprised Peter; she wasn't hungry for dinner, she was hungry for him. Reaching out to him, taking hold of his face in both of her hands, she kissed him and, spinning him around so that his back was to the living room, gave Simon the time he needed to slip into his bedroom.

"What was that for?" Peter asked as Carla released him and turned her attention to the food that was simmering on the stovetop.

"Do I need a reason?" Carla asked before nodding at the food. "What's this?"

"Chilli," Peter said. "For tacos. Here, have a taste."

Peter grabbed a spoon and, dipping it first in the chilli, fed a mouthful to Carla.

"Ohhhh, that's good."

"You like that?"

"I do."

"Good, now where's Si, ah, there he is," Peter said as Simon walked into the living room from the direction of his bedroom, a little sheepish after his earlier misadventure. "You ready for dinner?"

"Uh huh," Simon nodded, his gaze flickering to Carla who rewarded him with a wink, a promise of her silence. "What's for dinner?"

"Tacos."

"Yum!"

"Sit down, then," Peter urged them, carrying the chilli to the dining table where he'd already set up the tacos and all of their favourite fixings. "And I'll tell you my good news."

"Good news?" Carla looked at Peter curiously. "You never said anything."

"I only found out this afternoon," Peter said. "I got a call from the estate agent and someone's only gone and put an offer on the bookies."

"Was it a good offer?"

"It was what I wanted, so I accepted."

"Oh, babe, that's great. I am pleased for you."

"I'm driving up tomorrow to sign the contracts."

"Tomorrow?"

"I want it sorted right away," Peter said. "Then I can focus one hundred percent on our future. You two will be alright by yourselves for one day, right?"

Carla looked at Simon and smiled. For the first time since her and Peter had come together as an official couple, she felt she could answer this question in the affirmative.

"Absolutely."

"There you are, Mr Sleepyhead," Carla greeted Simon as he slumped down onto a dining chair, a wide yawn overcoming him. "What do you fancy for breakfast?"

Simon shrugged and changed the subject, asking, "where's dad?"

"You know where your dad is, Si. He went to Weatherfield on business. Now, how about some toast? Or would you prefer cereal?"

"He didn't say goodbye."

"He did, but you were asleep. He wanted to get an early start and avoid the traffic. Toast?" she asked, holding two slices of bread over the toaster as Simon made up his mind. "Hmm?"

"Whatever."

"What's with the attitude, Si? I thought we'd had a breakthrough yesterday, I thought you and me had decided to be friends. What's changed?"

"Nothing."

"I don't believe you," Carla said, sitting opposite him and forcing him to look at her. "Tell me what's wrong. Si?"

"I miss my mum," Simon muttered, his voice breaking with his confession, his eyes downcast.

"Oh, Si," Carla tried to comfort him, placing her hand gently over his, but he quickly pulled away from her. "I know all this change is really tough on you and I wish I knew how to make you feel better about it. Just, I don't know, just be patient and we'll sort something out."

"You mean I can see my mum?"

"I'm not making any promises, except that I'll talk to your dad about it. I'm sorry, if it was up to me…" Realising her mistake, Carla quickly added, "your dad's just looking out for you, Si, you understand that, right?"

"I guess," Simon said, looking wholly unconvinced.

"Good," Carla decided to take the win, however insignificant it seemed. "Any chance of a smile?"

Simon looked Carla in the eye and plastered a fake smile on his face. Carla was grateful at least that he felt up to joking around with her.

"I'll take it. Now, how about that breakfast?"

Peter pulled his car over as he cruised into Coronation Street, parking in the empty space outside his father's home, and yawned as he stretched in his seat, loosening up the muscles that had been restricted to the one position for many hours now.

Ken, having long been on the lookout for the arrival of his son, appeared at his front door, a broad smile on his face, his arms ready to embrace Peter as he exited the car.

"Wonderful to see you, son," Ken said. "It's good to finally have you home."

Immediately on the defensive, Peter countered his father's emphasis. "This isn't my home anymore, dad. You know that."

"Let's not get into that right now. When are you meeting with your realtor? I want to spend some time with you, have a proper talk."

"You mean you want to talk me into moving back here."

"And why shouldn't I?" Ken asked, exasperated with Peter's belligerence. "You belong here."

"You know I can't do that, dad. I can't come back."

"Why not?"

"Because of everything that's happened. After what Frank did–"

"You admit it, then, you're only doing all this, turning your life upside down, for Carla?"

"Why shouldn't I? You don't get it, dad: I love Carla, I will do anything for her. And that means keeping her safe."

"At the expense of your family?"

"Carla is my family."

"What about Simon?"

"He'll adjust."

"Peter, you need to put your son first."

"Dad, do we really have to do this now? I've had a really long drive and I'm gasping for a brew. If you wanna lecture me, fine, but can you give it a rest for five minutes? Is that something you can do?"

"I can do that," Ken said. "Come on in, I'll make you that brew. And, Peter?"

"Yes, dad?" Peter asked apprehensively.

"I really am very happy to see you, whatever the reason."

"Me too, dad."

Before father and son could take their conversation inside, a horribly familiar voice pierced the air.

"Well, look what we've got here. Did you not destroy enough lives last time, you've come back to inflict some more damage with your toxic behaviour?"

"Stella," Peter turned to face his estranged mother-in-law, his face as placid as he could manage, determined to hold his ground. "I've said it before, I am sorry for hurting Leanne. I'll regret that all my life, but it's done, we've all moved on."

"Moved on?" Stella scoffed. "Leanne lost everything because of you."

"I understand you're upset that Leanne's gone, but that was her decision. I was more than happy to let her keep the flat."

"Like that's some consolation for losing her marriage and her son."

"Like I said–"

"You really thought she'd give up that easily?"

"What do you mean?"

"Hasn't Ken told you?"

"Peter's only just arrived," Ken tried to explain. "I haven't had time to tell him."

"Oh," Stella smiled, taking great pleasure in witnessing Peter's confusion. "Isn't this delightful."

"If you've got something to say, Stella, just say it and get out of my face."

"Leanne's back," Stella revealed. "You really thought she'd just slink away and disappear from your life. No, she's back, and she's ready to fight."

"Fight what? Our marriage is over."

"Maybe, maybe not. But there's other things worth fighting for. Better things. Better than being tied for life to a loser like you."

"Where is she?" Peter demanded.

"I'm not letting you see my daughter!" Stella cried. "Not after everything you've done to her."

"Stella," Ken tried to reason with her. "They need to talk at some point."

"Yeah, in court."

"Court?" Peter asked.

"Are you scared?" Stella taunted him. "Because you should be."

"Stella," Ken spoke her name again, in a tone this time that caught her attention.

"I'm sorry, Ken, this isn't your fault. It's him! He just, he winds me up."

"That may very well be, but he and Leanne are still legally husband and wife. Isn't it best to let them try and work things out without getting lawyers involved?"

"And make things easier for Peter? No way."

"It's okay, mum," Leanne said calmly, her presence up until that point having gone unnoticed by the warring trio. "I'll talk to Peter. Like Ken said, he is still my husband."