"What the hell, Carla." Peter stared at his wife incredulously. "Tell me I did not hear what I just heard? You're…" he glanced at Olivia. "Who the hell is she?"

"You remember Olivia, don't you, Peter?" Carla tried her hardest to keep her voice upbeat.

"Olivia?" Peter shook his head; the pieces weren't falling into place, not yet.

"Suzy's daughter," Carla explained. "Suzy, my friend, Suzy? From LA?"

"Suzy? Olivia?" Finally the names registered with Peter's memory. "Olivia," he repeated with growing recognition as he looked at her, "I haven't seen you since you were…" he waved his hand vaguely around his knee, "yay high. That doesn't explain," he turned back to Carla, "why…? God, I need a drink."

"Peter, please," Carla began to panic. "You can't! Think of your liver!"

"Do you know how weird that sounds: 'Think of your liver.'"

"Someone needs to," Carla countered urgently. "After everything you've been through – we've been through – you can't let this set you back."

"Stop fussing, will you, I can't–" Peter waved away her concerns. "I'm not gonna drink. I wouldn't, just sometimes I wish…"

"What?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Peter, I–"

"When were you planning on telling me? Hmm?" Peter returned to the matter at hand. "I heard what you said, Carla. I know the truth. Well, who knows what the real truth is with you."

"I… I wasn't planning, I mean, I hadn't thought… I–I didn't know she was gonna turn up like this."

"What you're saying is, if she hadn't turned up, you would've kept her a secret forever?"

"Yes!" Carla cried before repeating calmly, "yes. Of course I was going to keep her a secret. I mean, what good would it do to… to open that particular can of worms again."

"I'm your husband!" Peter cried. "That's exactly the kind of worms I need to know about! I need to know that you've got a kid out there somewhere, that you gave up your own child because… why? Why, Carla?"

"I gave her up because I loved her. What do you think her life would've been like with me, hmmm? You know what I was like when I came back from LA: I was a mess; I could barely look after myself let alone a kid."

"Your kid."

"She was a baby. And I was a… drunk suicidal nut case. You know I was, Peter. And you know what it's like, when the booze turns you into a bad parent. Just ask Simon."

"That's low, even for you."

"It's the truth."

"Maybe," Peter shrugged; "but there's a big difference between you and me. I never gave up on my son, I never gave him up. Well, not entirely."

"I thought it was for the best," Carla asserted. "It was for the best… at the time. And then, by the time I got myself together."

"You? Together?" Peter snorted.

"Very funny," Carla couldn't help but smile. "As much as a disaster like me can get themselves together. How's that?"

"Better."

"By then, it was too late. Suzy was her mother in every way that mattered. Look, I'm not saying there weren't times I wanted to bring her home. I remember when…"

"When…?" Peter prompted.

"When we lost our baby girl," Carla said softly, choking on the words as painful memories flooded her mind.

Peter gently took her hand in his and comforted her as best he could. "Carla, I'm…" But the words wouldn't come; his conscience, still plagued with guilt over their baby's death, made them stick in his throat.

"It was for the best," Carla repeated stoically. "I really do believe that, Peter. Liv, you have to believe me, I–"

It was only now that Carla realised the seat where Olivia had been sitting was now empty. She was gone.

"Where did she go?" Panicked, Carla jumped to her feet and searched the flat. "Liv? Olivia!?" Finally, she turned her face to Peter. "She's not here. Where… she wouldn't have left without saying anything? Would she?"

"We should split up," Carla said decidedly as she stood with Peter on the street in front of their flat, wondering where a teenager, a stranger to the area, would go. "We'll cover more ground that way."

"Okay," Peter agreed, holding onto Carla's hand, even as she tried to shake it off and start the search. "Love, hey, hey, Carla, look at me." He briefly touched her cheek with his free hand; "everything's gonna be okay. We'll find her, okay? Hmmm?"

"Okay," Carla forced a smile. "Listen, I'm gonna check the factory first, it's the only other place she's been around here."

"Good idea."

"Call me if you find her!" Carla called back over her shoulder as she hurried in the direction of the factory. "Call me if you don't! Just… call me!"

With Carla departed on her mission, Peter set out to methodically search every public place on the street, hoping he wouldn't have to expand the search area. Unlikely as he thought it would be for Olivia to go to the pub, he still popped in to ask the startled bar staff if an American teenager – a very likely upset American teenager – had come in recently. Receiving a negative, he followed up by checking in The Kabin, then braved more of his sister's snarky comments by checking the florist, before peering through the window of the kebab shop.

It wasn't until he pushed open the door of Roy's Rolls and stepped into the cosy and comforting space beyond that he finally found what he had been searching for. It was with the man himself – Roy Cropper – that kind and gentle soul who always seemed to attract the waifs and strays of the neighbourhood that Olivia was now sitting with.

"Olivia," Peter said tentatively, approaching the table with caution.

"Ah, Peter," Roy said. "You are acquainted with my guest?"

"In a way, yes," Peter replied before turning to Olivia. "Carla and I were worried, we didn't know where you'd gone."

"I'll leave you two to talk," Roy said awkwardly, rising to his feet and offering his seat to Peter.

"Thanks, Roy," Peter said gratefully. "Can you…" he glanced at Olivia and asked: "Do you want something to eat? Are you hungry?"

Reflexively Olivia refused, not wanting to accept anything from Peter, not yet, not until she'd received an explanation.

"Come on," Peter pressed her gently. "Have you had anything to eat since the plane? You must be starving."

"Well…" Olivia couldn't deny the rumblings of her stomach. "Maybe a grilled cheese sandwich? Is that okay?"

"One cheese toastie please Roy. And what about a drink? Milkshake?" The smile on Olivia's face was all the confirmation he needed. "Chocolate? And one chocolate milkshake for the lady."

"And for yourself?" Roy looked at Peter.

"A tea please, Roy."

"Won't be a moment."

A silence descended over the table while Roy hurried to the kitchen to prepare their order. It was Peter who spoke first.

"It must've been a big shock," he began by stating the obvious; "what Carla said."

But his words were met with yet more silence.

"It'll take some time to sink in," he continued. "Give it some time. Everything will work out," he concluded rather lamely, unsure himself whether his words held any truth.

"Why didn't she want me?"

Olivia's question stumped Peter. How could he explain the complicated sets of relationships that had led to her conception, or Carla's state of mind during her pregnancy, a state he could only guess at; an educated guess, yes, considering his intimate knowledge of her state of mind in the months and years that followed.

"It wasn't a question of not wanting you," Peter tried to explain. "It was wanting what was best for you."

"Giving me away was best for me?"

"Yes," Peter nodded; he truly believed this to be a fact. "Carla should be the one to explain all this to you, but you need to know that, yes, letting Suzy be your mum was the best thing for you."

"And…"

"What is it, Liv?"

"I…"

"You can ask me anything. I promise I'll answer as honestly as I can."

"What… what about you? Did you want…?" Olivia dared look Peter directly in the eyes as she asked her most important question for him. "Are you my dad?"