"I don't see why I have to spend my summer working," Jean grumbled, as Joe drove towards Tate Haulage in Skipdale.

"It's good experience for you."

"I already did my work experience, remember? You threatened to fire me."

"That was a joke. I wouldn't fire family. Anyway, what else are you going to do with your summer? Hang out with your deadbeat dad?" When Jean didn't reply, Joe added more gently, "It's the family business, Jean. Grandad built it up from scratch."

"I know, I know."

"My dad employed my mum there," he went on nostalgically, "and he and Aunt Zoe ran the business together when I was little. Just think how proud they'd be, you and me, running the family business again?"

They arrived at the yard, Jean's heart swelling as they entered the waiting area and passed the photo of their family, pride of place on the wall. A blonde woman was sat on one of the chairs.

"Mr Waterhouse?" She stared at Joe, who turned sharply to see her.

"Er, yeah? Hello?"

"Sorry, you probably don't remember me?"

"I remember everyone I've ever fired." He responded coolly, "Mel, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it was. They sent me from an agency, I didn't realise—" She glanced at Jean, "oh, Miss Waterhouse too?"

"That's right. My cousin." Joe patted Jean's shoulder proudly, "so, what can I do for you?"

"As I said, I'm here from the agency?" She cast a look over Jean.

"Employment agency? Insurance agency? Talent agency?"

Jean stifled a snigger.

"You wanted an assistant?" The woman went on briskly, irritated.

"Yes, yes I did. However you'll forgive me if I say I have some reservations about hiring someone I fired a few months previously," he pulled a sympathetic face, "doesn't look good, does it?"

"So you're not even going to give me a chance?"

"Well you did so little work at Waterhouse International, you can see I'm struggling with merit?"

The blonde scowled.

"Right, so I'm wasting my time."

"I'd say that's a fair estimation." Joe smiled, nodding at her to leave.

"Cosy set up you've got here?" Mel observed, looking around, catching a glimpse of the photo on the wall over Joe's shoulder. "I thought you were primarily property-based."

Joe's smug expression dimmed.

"I have a multitude of interests, not that it's any of your business."

Mel scoffed.

"So you won't mind telling me why your office reads "Joseph Tate" but at your other business we called you Tom Waterhouse?"

She folded her coat in her arms, taking on a satisfied smirk that chilled him.

"It's not illegal to take an assumed name." Jean spoke up.

"And who are you?" Mel sneered.

"He told you. His cousin. Jean Tate."

Mel looked between them, reading the situation.

"Oh, family interest." She mused, "so, you got yourself a bad name so you've set up this little scheme."

"There is no scheme." Joe told her, chin raised, "and I think we can agree, you're not going to pass this interview, so I'd like you to leave. Jean, will you see Mel out, please?"

Jean went to move.

"I'm perfectly capable of opening a door, thanks." Mel snapped at Jean, stepping into the porch with a vicious look.

"Thank you for seeing me, Mr Waterhouse." She added sweetly, sauntering out.

Jean closed the door, looking at Joe, who was perplexed and disturbed by Mel's appearance.

"Joe?"

"It's fine. She's just an ex-employee with a grudge."

"That was weird." Jean admitted.

"It's fine."

"I'll call Graham, shall I? Let him know?" She got her phone out.

"No. No, there's no need." Joe insisted.

"But he should know. What if she starts, I don't know, stalking us?"

"Then we'll deal with it." Joe replied, still shocked from their encounter with Mel. There was something oddly familiar about her, apart from the obvious. Ex-employees didn't normally leave that kind of impression. This was different.

"But Joe—"

"Stop, Jean. Graham doesn't need to know, okay?" He held up his hand, "get me a coffee, will you? Milky, no sugar."

"At once, sir." Jean rolled her eyes.

It wasn't until midday that Jean noticed anything amiss.

She saw an email from a recruitment agency flash up and opened it, confirming the details of some candidates that the agency felt would be suitable for the post of assistant and read through the applications as best as she could, noticing that Mel's appeared to be missing.

"Joe?" She called through to him.

"I'm extremely busy at the moment, Jean." Joe answered, struggling to concentrate on a proposal from a prospective contract.

"I just got the list of candidates through from the recruitment agency."

"I'll take a look at them tomorrow." Joe told her.

"It's not that—"

"Look, just put them in an email, send them over." Joe instructed, a little more sharply than intended, "sorry, I'm just trying to concentrate."

"It's okay."

"Look, if you're bored, give Graham a call and he'll pick you up."

"I'd rather be here." Jean admitted.

"Good. Forget Mel. She doesn't matter. She's just bitter because I sacked her."

"She was looking at our picture." Jean pointed out.

Joe let his face fall into his hand, exasperated.

"So? What difference does that make?" He asked in irritation.

"What if she's a spy?"

"A spy?" Joe scorned, "Jean, what could she do?"

"Destroy our reputation?"

"You've been watching too many spying shows, little cuz. Trust me. It's all good. Who would want to sabotage us? We're still a new company."

"Robert Sugden?" Jean suggested.

Joe's expression changed, becoming serious.

"You could be right. But how would he know Mel?"

"I don't know. Maybe he was going to hire her and found out about you firing her? Great leverage."

"You have a very suspicious mind, young Tate." He quirked an eyebrow.

"That comes with being a Tate." Jean smiled, at ease with the conversation.

"Hmm." He tapped his desk, "I think I'd better have a word with Sugden. You can come along if you like?" His eyes glittered with mischief.

"No thank you," said Jean primly. "I've had enough of your feuds."

"This isn't about revenge, this is business."

"You don't really know anything about haulage," Jean pointed out. "You only wanted this business to get back at the Kings, and most of them are dead."

Joe glared at her. "Auntie Zoe ran the business alone after my dad. How hard can it be?"

"Don't start on Mummy!"

"Okay, okay." Joe stepped forward, placing his hands on Jean's shoulders. "Sorry, I'm just stressed. I'll go and deal with Sugden. Leave it with me."

…

Joe left the office and climbed into the Bentley. He relished the old rivalry, the challenge that lay ahead. If someone was responsible for sending in a spy, it had to be Robert Sugden.

He started the car and drove back to the village, pulling up behind Holdgate where the scrapyard was based.

"Hey Sugden!" He called out.

Robert's blond head jerked up from a clipboard he was checking.

"What do you want, Tate?" he called.

Joe strode over, his hands in his pockets. "I know what you've been up to. Did you think I wouldn't work it out?"

"What are you on about?"

"Mel," Joe enunciated. "Your little spy."

"Mel? Sorry, dunno what yer talkin 'bout, mate?"

"Come on, you're not that good."

"No? Then why are you 'ere then?" Robert taunted.

"I just can't keep away." Joe smirked. "You're telling me you don't know anything about my receptionist?"

"Why would I?" Robert shrugged.

"I know you want to destroy my business."

"Don't flatter yourself. Why would I care about your business? Trouble wi' you, Joe, is that you think people care about your life. Well, newsflash, they don't. Not everything revolves around you."

"Don't push it, Sugden." Joe grit his teeth.

"What is she, your new protege?" Robert winked, "doing overtime?"

"Not anymore. I've fired her." Joe turned and started to walk away.

"Maybe I'll offer her a job," Robert suggested. "Mel, you say?"

Joe turned sharply.

"You could never afford her. She may look cheap, but she's looking for more than this hovel."

"See yer, don't come back anytime soon, yeah?"

"Oh, don't worry." Joe got into his Bentley and kicked the car into gear, revving it loudly to declare his presence.

As he was driving, he received a call.

"Jean? You okay?"

"Joe, that woman came back, Mel. She came to see you."

"What does she want?"

"I dunno. She's in your office."

"Alright. I'll be there in five. Gotta go, I'm driving."

Joe hung up and drove back to Tate Haulage, ready to get rid of Mel for good.

…

"What did he say?" asked Mel, sweeping around the desk to take Joe's chair. "I could get used to this."

"Well, don't. Joe will be back soon." Jean warned her, folding her arms.

"So this is your business, right? I mean, Tom's of course?"

"It's my cousin's, yes." Jean glared at Mel as she swung in Joe's chair.

"Cousin," Mel repeated thoughtfully. "So your parents..."

"What's it got to do with you?" Jean snapped.

"I was just wondering how you're related to the boss."

"We're a family. It's a family business." Jean emphasised curtly.

"I can see that. So those two?" She nodded toward the photo on the wall.

Jean glanced at it.

"His dad and my mum. They ran it together." She explained quickly.

"Wow, a dynasty." Mel quipped.

"You must have a family too," Jean pointed out.

"I never knew my dad," said Mel, looking at Chris's photo.

Jean softened slightly. "Me neither."

"Where is Joe?" Mel got up and started pacing up and down.

"He'll be here."

"So what's it like, living with a millionaire?"

Jean frowned.

"How do you know I live with Joe?" She caught sight of the car coming into the yard and rushed out.

"Joe!"

"Hey, what's going on?" He asked.

"I don't know. She just turned up again."

"Some people don't give up." Joe strode into his office while Jean hovered in the doorway.

"Well, look who it is." She smiled.

"Look, I know Sugden sent you. There's no point trying to worm your way back in."

"Sugden?" Mel scoffed. "I have no idea what you're talking about?"

"Come on, you bluffed your way through an interview with Graham. You can do better than that."

"I'm here to see you. Whoever this Sugden is, he's nothing to do with me." She looked around as he hesitated. "I came here because of the Tate name. I didn't know you were Tom Waterhouse."

"Do I know you?" he asked. "Did I meet you in a club, or something..."

She laughed. "No. I'm not one of your hook-ups."

"Who are you, then?" He stared at her.

She hesitated. "I'm your sister."

There was a silence.

"What kind of sick game are you playing? I don't have a sister!" Joe spat.

"Shall I call the police?" asked Jean.

"For what?" Mel demanded.

"Being delusional?" suggested Joe.

"It's true!" she cried. "Your dad was my dad too."

Joe shook his head. "Nice try. My dad was paraplegic. He may have fathered me and Noah, but a third miracle child..."

"It was before the accident. He met my mum before the plane crash."

"You're lying!"

"I'm not!" Mel retorted in a sharp voice that reminded Joe of someone.

"Joe, shall I call them?" Jean was still hesitating at the door.

"No. Just, wait." He told her, holding up his hand, "get me a coffee."

Jean withdrew from the room, closing the door.

"30th December 1993." Joe looked at his father's photo, "that was the night of the plane crash."

"I was born June 1994." Mel replied.

"June 1995." Joe looked at her curiously. "You're a year older than I am."

"I was conceived November 1993. Born two months premature."

"What makes you think my father was your father?" he asked.

"I've got my birth certificate." She nodded at her bag on the desk, "and I met my birth mother and she told me about... Chris."

Joe nodded.

"And he had no idea, about you?"

"No. I don't really know much." Mel shrugged.

"So why come here?" Joe looked her over. "I mean, I get you're lost, you're confused."

"I just wanted to meet my family." Mel's voice shook.

He hesitated. "Let's see your birth certificate."

Nodding, she drew it out of her bag and handed it to him. The father's column was empty.

"So your Mum..."

"I don't know her either. She gave me away, right after signing that."

"Sadie Campbell," read Joe grimly. The name gave him an uneasy feeling.

"She's Sadie Sinclair now. She was Sadie King for a while. You know her?"

"Unfortunately, yes. She blackmailed my aunt into signing over Home Farm."

"I don't know anything about that." She shrugged unrepentantly.

"Bet you didn't. She's pretty much the same as Kim." Joe eyed her suspiciously.

"So, where does that leave us?" Mel asked hopefully.

"Us?" Joe scorned, "you think a birth certificate and some story you picked out of a reality show is going to convince me? You've got a lot to learn."

"But it's true!" Mel exclaimed.

"Come on. You don't think I've had people trying it on before?" He put on a high-pitched voice. "Oh I'm a long-lost Tate, I'm entitled to a hand out..."

"I don't want your money!"

"As entertaining as this has been, I'm going to ask you nicely to leave. Then I'll have you physically thrown out." He reached for the phone on his desk.

"Don't." She clasped his hand on the phone.

"Let go, Mel."

"Firstly, my name isn't Mel. It's Georgina. Georgie. That was the one thing Mum did give me."

"I suggest you take your hand off my phone." Joe warned, his glare cold.

Their eyes locked on each other and for the first time, Joe saw himself in Georgie.

"You and me. We're the same." She told him.

Joe hesitated. "I don't know what kind of game this is..."

"I'll do a DNA test. I'll prove it," she insisted.

"Let's say we are related," he conceded. "What do you want from me and Jean?"

"I don't know, just wanted to tell you, I suppose." Georgie shrugged, "it's not been easy."

Joe's hand slid off the phone, taking Georgie's with it.

"I want to know about my dad." She said eventually.

"The truth is, I didn't know him that well," said Joe, with a catch in his voice.

"What do you mean? He died when you were..."

"Eight, yes, but I'd already been at boarding school for a couple of years." Joe shrugged. "He was always more interested in his women and his businesses than me. You didn't miss anything."

"I'm sorry." For the first time, Georgie actually sounded genuine.

"Yeah, well. Ancient history now. You would never have been Daddy's Little Girl."

"I wasn't Mummy's Little Girl either." She admitted, "I went to see her. Asked her about Dad and she said the same. He wanted nothing to do with me."

She sighed slowly, deeply.

"Do I look like him?"

Joe considered. "You do, a bit, actually."

"You do too." Georgie looked at him closely. "You really look like him."

"You look a lot like your mum too," Joe added. "Is she still a conniving bitch?"

"I'm afraid so." Georgie nodded.

"I still want that DNA test," Joe warned.

"How do we do that?" she asked.

"Well, since Dad isn't here, we'll have to just test to see if you're related to me. I think you can order a test on the internet."

"I can do that," she offered.

"No, I'll do it. No tricks." He glowered at her and she glowered back. "I'll just need a swab from you."

"Ew. What kind of swab?"

"From the inside of your cheek will be fine." He rolled his eyes. "God, I hope it's negative."

"The feeling's mutual." Georgie shot back as quickly as Joe.

He tilted his head, observing her side profile. She had the Tate chin, that slightly haughty look.

"Open your mouth." He instructed. "Say ahhh?"

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"I've never had so much fun," Joe muttered snidely. He reached into his desk, opened the first aid kit and drew out a cotton bud. As Georgie opened her mouth wide, he swabbed the inside of her cheek with distaste, then took an envelope off his desk and dropped the sample in.

"Aren't you going to swab yourself?"

"Later. You can go now. Leave your number with Jean."

"You will send off for the test, won't you?" she said suspiciously.

"Believe me, I want this cleared up as soon as possible." He nodded at the door. "Bye then."

Georgie stood.

"I know this is a lot to take in."

"Not yet. I'll call you when I get the results."

"Thanks." She gave him a hopeful look as she went to the door.