Chapter 3 - Battle Lines

It was Peter's first day back from rehab and Simon had come to pay him a visit. He found his father sat at the table, a blanket draped over his shoulders, hunched over a jigsaw. His face was pale and unshaven and had a yellowish tinge to it. Every time he picked up a puzzle piece, his hand would shake uncontrollably. It was hard for Simon to see him like this. He had always thought of his dad as being invincible, but now, seeing him so frail, it hit him that he wasn't… and that scared him.

Simon made them a cup of tea and they sat drinking it at the table. Trying to remain upbeat, he asked, "So how are you feeling, dad?"

"I'm all the better for seeing you." Simon rolled his eyes at the cheesy remark and Peter laughed, "No seriously, I'm much better than I was, even if I don't necessarily look it. The seizures have stopped and my cravings are back under control. It's all good, kiddo." He smiled again in an effort to reassure him. "But that's enough about me, how are you? Anything exciting happen while I was away?"

"Nothing much," Simon lied.

"How's the job going?"

"Oh, erm… I quit."

"How come?" Peter asked, sounding disappointed. "I thought you liked it there."

"I did, but mum thought I needed to concentrate on my studies."

"Fair enough. And how is your mum? Is she getting out of the house?"

"She's…" Simon wasn't sure how to answer. He was desperate to tell his dad about what was really going on, about Jacob and Harvey, about the five grand they needed to come up with by the end of the week and what his mum was doing to get it, but he could see how ill his father was and he didn't want to risk jeopardising his recovery. It was better to keep him in the dark, so Simon simply said, "Mum's doing okay."

"That's good," Peter said, sounding relieved. "And is Nick still in London?"

"Yeah he is." And no one knows when he'll be back either, Simon thought about adding. "So it's just been me and mum."

"I imagine that can't be easy," Peter said. "Listen mate, I know me and your mum are going through our own issues but that doesn't mean we're not here for you. It's important you know that." Peter paused, staring at him. "You do know that, don't you, Si?"

"Now you sound like Carla."

"Huh?"

"She took me out for lunch yesterday and went into counsellor mode on me."

"Lunch eh?" Peter said with a smile. "It's good to hear two are getting on again."

"Same goes."

Peter looked surprised by this. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Simon said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. "I know Carla messed up but we all do sometimes. We all make bad choices, do things we regret… but that doesn't mean we don't deserve a second chance." He wondered if he was talking about Carla or himself. "I'm glad you've worked things out." Then he added, "But please, no more splitting up and getting back together, it's exhausting!"

Peter chuckled. "Okay, it's a deal. Actually, there's something I wanted to show you…" He stood up from the table, stumbling slightly as he did so, and headed over to the antic cabinet. He finished something out from one of the drawers and brought it over to the table. He slid a small velvet box over to Simon.

Simon lifted the lid and was blinded by a rock of a diamond. "When did you get this?"

"A while back," Peter told him. "I passed it in a shop window one night and just knew it was the one. I was going to give it to her when we had the blessing in Greece but things didn't quite to go plan on that score so it's been collecting dust in that drawer ever since." Peter was anxious for his verdict. "So what do you think? Do you like it?"

"Yeah, it's nice."

"Let's hope Carla thinks so an' all," he laughed.

"But dad, with everything that's going on… do you really think now's the best time to pop the question?"

"In case I croak it, you mean?"

Simon wouldn't have put it quite like that. "No, I just mean that a lot's happened, not just with your health, but with you and Carla. Don't you want to wait a while, take things slow?"

"To be honest, Si, I'm tired of taking things slow. If all this stuff with my liver's made me realise anything, it's that life's too short to be umming and arring. When you find happiness, true happiness, you can't let it pass you by, you've got to grab it with both hands."

It was a touching sentiment and Simon smiled. "In that case, I say go for it."

"You think so?"

"Definitely."

Peter smiled and patted his shoulder. "Thanks, Son. That means a lot coming from you. It really does."

Simon looked back at the ring. "Bet this must've cost an arm and leg."

"It's definitely the last of the big-spending I do for a while, put it that way."

"How much was it?" Simon couldn't help asking. "A grand?"

"A grand?" Peter laughed. "You've got to be joking! Try three and a half! But what can I say? Only the best for my missus."

Leanne's words from last night echoed in Simon's ears: 'We need five grand by the end of the week or who knows what he'll do to you!'

Then a thought occurred to Simon, one he quickly shoved to the back of his mind, disgusted at himself for even thinking it.

"So when are you going to ask her?" he asked, realising he'd become distracted.

"I'm not sure yet," said Peter. "The timing's got to be right. But I wanted to you to be the first to know."

"Well, I'm honoured."

Peter offered to make them lunch and as he staggered towards the kitchen, Simon did something unforgivable; he pocketed the ring.

That afternoon, after leaving his dad's, he cycled into town and sought out the nearest pawnbrokers. He offered up the ring to the man behind the counter who inspected it with a magnifying glass. "Very nice this," he said, holding it up to the light. "How did you come across it?"

"What's it to you?" Simon snapped defensively. "Are you going to buy it off me or not?"

He lowered the magnifying glass. "I'll give you £1,500 for it."

"Are you having a laugh? It's worth twice that, at least!"

"£1,500's my final offer," he said. "Take it or leave it."

It was an insulting offer but Simon couldn't afford to turn it down and so he reluctantly accepted. He felt like he'd done a deal with the devil as he pocketed the cash and watched the ring be placed in the display cabinet.

He stared at it behind the glass, the ring his father had chosen, the ring he'd been so excited to show him. Simon imagined the look on Peter's face when he realised it was missing. God, he hated himself. This was a new low, even for him. He hurried out of the store and cycled home.

The end of the week came around quickly and they were out of time. Leanne held tightly onto her handbag as she made her way down the ginnel, eyes darting from side to side, scared that one of the neighbours might spot her. Harvey leant against the wall, smoking a cigarette. As she approached, he tossed it to the ground and blew a cloud of smoke into her face. She scrunched her nose up in disgust and batted it away. "So," he said, eyes looking her up and down in a predatory fashion. "Have you got me what I asked for?"

She opened up her handbag, revealing the bundle of cash. "It's all there," she said as he snatched it out of the bag. "Feel free to count it."

He did exactly that and once he was satisfied she hadn't tried to short-change him, he pocketed it with a sly smile. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"So are we square now? Are you going to leave Simon alone?"

"See, here's the thing," he began, and immediately she regretted asking. "I don't like it when my boys go crying to their mummies. And I especially don't like it when their mummies come to me thinking they can call the shots, especially when they're a dirty old slapper like you." His words were scathing and Leanne flinched. "So for all those reasons, and because your son's nothing but a liability, I've decided to add interest…"

She shook her head in disgust. "You're unbelievable."

"I want another three grand," he said. "Get it to me by the end of the week and I'll get out of your hair."

Leanne had tried not to lose her temper but enough was enough. "Who the hell do you think you are? I slogged my guts out getting you that money! The hoops I've jumped through, the lows I've sunk to… and now you're telling me you want more?!"

He laughed. "Oh come on love, you hardly slogged your guts out. You earned most of it by lying on your back."

Leanne went to strike him but he caught her wrist. The next thing she knew he had her pinned against the wall. He was standing so close she could feel his breath against her cheek. It stank of cigarettes and whiskey and she turned her face away, blanching slightly. He pulled out a blade and held it to her throat. "Let's get one thing straight shall we? I call the shots here, not you. If I say jump, you say how high. If I say get me my money, you do exactly that, no questions asked, otherwise I'll give you another dead kid to cry about. Are we clear?"

Leanne nodded stiffly, eyes on the blade.

"Good." He slipped the knife into his pocket with a smile. "Glad we understand each other. See you around, Leanne."

Leanne waited until he was safely out of view before releasing the breath she'd been holding in. Her entire body was shaking from the encounter.

When she arrived home, Simon was waiting for her. "How did it go? Is he going to leave us alone? Is it over?"

Leanne's hands trembled as she poured herself a large whiskey.

"Mum, talk to me. What happened?"

"He wants more."

"More? But I don't understand, we gave him what he asked for."

"He was never going to stop there, was he? Men like him never do! All we've done is play right into his hands!"

She knocked back the whiskey but it didn't even touch the sides. She quickly poured herself another and swallowed it down before dropping her head in her hands. "I don't know what to do..." she said. She had reached her breaking point. "I really don't."

Simon went to comfort her. "It's going to be okay, mum."

"No it's not!" she said, shrugging his hand off her shoulder. "I thought I could handle this by myself but I was wrong…" She shook her head at him, for the first time letting him see how scared she was. "I'm out of my depth here, Si. I need help."

In that moment it dawned on her what she needed to do.

She stood out on the darkened street, hammering on the door of number one until someone answered. The door opened and Carla appeared in a red cable knit jumper. She squinted at the woman standing out in the rain. "Leanne?"

"Is Peter in?"

"He's having a lie-down, he's not feeling so good…" Carla trailed off, her expression taking that of concern. "Is everything alright?"

"No it's not, but if Peter's sleeping then I'll come back another time."

She went to turn away but Carla called her back. "Leanne, why don't you come in for a cup of tea? You look like you could do with one."

In the Barlow's living room Leanne sat shivering at the table, dripping wet from having been stood out in the rain for so long. Carla brought her over a cup of tea and an awkward silence followed as she joined her at the table. It was no secret the women weren't the best of friends, but they had been, once upon a time. Carla awkwardly cleared her throat. "Leanne, I've not seen you in person to say how sorry I am… you know…about Oliver."

Carla's condolences were genuine and heartfelt. After all, she knew what it was like to lose a child. It wasn't quite the same thing - she'd never brought her baby girl into the world, hadn't raised her for three years, but it still gave her some understanding of the pain and loss Leanne was experiencing.

"How are you coping?" she asked.

"I'm not sure that I am," was Leanne's honest answer.

Carla didn't know how to respond to that so instead she changed the subject. "So what did you want to talk to Peter about?"

"That's between me and him."

"Is it about Simon?"

Leanne shot her a glare. "Why, what do you know? What's Simon told you?"

"Nothing," Carla assured her. "It's just when you asked me to pick him up the other day I noticed he seemed a bit down, that's all." But now Carla's suspicions were aroused. "Why, is something going on?... Leanne?"

Leanne couldn't keep it bottled up any longer and she burst into tears. "God, this is all such a mess…"

Carla stood up quickly and shut the door to the landing so they wouldn't wake Peter and rushed back to the table. "Okay, calm down," she said. "Tell me what's going on."

Leanne shook her head. "I can't. I need to talk to Peter."

"Well you can't right now, so I'm the best you've got. Come on, spill. What's going on?"

Leanne's eyes met Carla's in desperation. "Simon's got himself involved with some really nasty people."

"Like another gang you mean?" Carla remembered their dealings with Tyler.

"No, this is worse," said Leanne. "He's dealing drugs."

Carla's jaw slackened. "What?"

Leanne wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her coat. "He was skipping college, coming home late, and he was paying for things he should never have been able to afford…" Looking back it had been staring her in the face but at the time she'd been too caught up in her grief to see it. "Anyway," she went on, "one night he came home covered in bruises. That's when he showed me the drugs in his bag and told me how Jacob from the chippy had roped him into dealing drugs. But Simon messed up a delivery and now he owes this gang money."

Carla sat, completely shocked. "When was all this?"

"A few weeks ago now."

"What have you done about it?"

"The first thing I did was make Simon quit his job. I didn't want him to have anything more to do with Jacob. But these people, Carla… they don't give up. I came home one night and found the flat trashed. Oliver's bedroom and all of his things…" She broke off in tears. "They wanted five grand by the end of the week and promised if I got them the money that they'd leave Simon alone."

"So what did you do?"

"Well I got them the money, didn't I?" Leanne said it as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

"But how did you get the money together so fast?"

"By selling my soul to the devil, that's how."

Sensing something ominous in her tone, Carla asked, "Please don't tell me you went to a loan shark?"

Leanne shook her head.

"What then?" Suddenly it became clear and Carla threw a hand over her mouth with a gasp. "Oh Leanne, please tell me you didn't… An escort agency?" Leanne cried harder and Carla reached across the table for her hand, gripping it tightly.

Leanne soon straightened and wiped her eyes. "Anyway, I got them the money but now they're saying they want more. It's never going to end, Carla. They're never going to leave us alone. Simon's all I've got left. I can't lose him too. I can't."

Carla gave her hand a comforting squeeze. "You're not going to lose him, okay?" A plan began to take form in her mind. "Here's what we're going to do. We're going to get Simon and the three of us are going to go to the police station—"

"No!"

Carla was confused by the sudden outburst. "Why not?"

"Because the police don't have a good grasp on these things," Leanne argued. "And if Simon spills his guts he'll be known as a grass and then he'll become a target. All it'll take is for him to be walking down the street one day when his guard's down and…"

Leanne couldn't finish, the thought was too terrifying.

"Fine, no police," said Carla. "But what are we going to do then?"

"I don't know!" Leanne raked a hand through her blonde hair. "That's why I wanted to talk to Peter."

Worry flickered across Carla's face at the mention of Peter, then she shook her head. "Peter can't know about this. He's not well enough. Something like this could tip him over the edge."

"But he's Simon's dad, he's got a right to know what's going on!"

"Exactly right."

Both women turned their heads as Peter appeared in the doorway.

He looked awful; pale, clammy and exhausted.

"You're meant to be in bed," Carla chided him.

"I heard voices." He joined them at the table and his eyes shifted between them with suspicion. "So would one of you like to tell me what's been going on with my son? And I want the truth."

Leanne told him the full story and Peter listened without interruption. Once she'd finished speaking, he nodded slowly, needing a moment to process it all. "So this Harvey fella, you've met him?"

Leanne remembered her frightening encounter with Harvey that morning and gave an involuntary shiver. "Once or twice."

"Where can I find him?" Peter asked.

"Your best bet at getting to Harvey is through Jacob, the lad who works at the chippy. But Peter, you need to be careful," she warned him. "These people are dangerous. The stories Simon's told me about them…"

"Don't worry about me," he assured her. "I know how to handle myself."

"I'd beg to differ." Carla's earned herself a stern look from Peter but she refused to be silent. "Peter, you're not superman! Or Marlon Brando! You're an alcoholic with liver failure for goodness sake! You can't take these people on, it's too dangerous. We need to go to the poli—"

"No!" He cut her off sharply. "I'm his dad, and I'll protect him. Nobody messes with my family. Nobody." He turned to Leanne. "Where's Simon now?"

"At the flat."

"Right, you stay here with Carla. I'm going round there. I think it's time me and Simon had a little chat."

Simon lifted his head when he heard the front door go. He sat up, alert. "Mum?" But it wasn't his mother who had walked in. He frowned at the man standing before him. "Dad? What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you." A pause. "Your mother's put me in the picture, I know everything."

Simon ran a hand over his face. "What did she do that for?!"

"Because she's worried about you."

"I didn't want her getting involved!"

"Tough!" said Peter. "I'm your dad. I've got a right to know about these things. And just so you know, I'm not angry with you. I'm worried, that's all."

Peter joined him on the sofa and draped an arm over his shoulder. Simon lifted his head to look at him. "Mum hates me doesn't she?"

"Of course she doesn't."

"Fine, resents me then," Simon said. "I was just trying to help her out, earn a bit of extra money to put towards bills," he explained. "But it's all gone wrong and now all these people are after us and mums had to do things…" He stopped himself from saying too much, then lowered his gaze to his lap. "Dad, there's something I need to tell you…" Taking a deep breath, he confessed, "I stole Carla's engagement ring and I sold it to a pawnbroker." He cringed as the words left his mouth. He added an 'I'm sorry', not that he expected it to make a blind bit of difference.

To his surprise Peter didn't shout, didn't pull away, didn't shake his head in disappointment - he did none of those things. Instead his hand remained on Simon's shoulder and he said, "I know you are, son. I know."

Simon hadn't been expecting such a response and he started to cry. He was crying over the guilt of the ring and in utter despair at what his life had become. Peter's strong arms settled around him. "Shh, it's alright. Everything's going to be alright. I promise."

Later that night once Leanne had returned home to Simon, Carla cornered Peter in the kitchen of number one. "How did your talk go with Simon?"

"I've told him he's got nothing to worry about, that I'll sort whatever's going on."

She folded her arms, brow arching quizzically. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

"By meeting the big boss." He gave a crooked smile.

Carla shook her head at his words, a sick feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. "This has got disaster written all over it."

"I know what I'm doing."

"Well let's hope so, for all our sakes."

Author's note: Let me know your thoughts by leaving a review. Thanks for reading!